I promised myself I would survive this...
This, fatal attraction to insane violence
not physically, but spiritually,
a real demeaning presence in my inner being...
I'm leaning on the brink of going crazy
                    someone save me
                    I'm following the path of destruction religiously

I'd like you to know, I had a dream.
I was falling, and my stomach had been pierced by this beam
Or, spike and it seemed like I had lost the will to fight
So I just kept falling.

On my way down I saw a lot of cool spots
and heard some peculiar sounds, and I couldn't speak
But my silence was loud
and when it's voice had reached it's peak
and started to weaken and my hearing slowly depleted
and my vision became blurred and conceited
selfishness overcoming helplessness,
I looked down at the twig lodged in my abdomen
tore it out with the utmost supreme confidence
and declared to the world
**I AM A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH,
AND I WILL DIE BEFORE I BECOME COMPLACENT!

allow me to introduce myself
I mean, is that okay with you?
I didn't mean to interrupt
or come across as abrupt
but I'm so used to seeing in black and white
and you're emulating a green light --
I can't help myself
I'm Noah
(******, I said my name wrong)

Hey
I just, uh
(think!)
What's up
?Wait!
Where--
o-okay
see you later
--are you going?

(you will say something today!)
yeah, that isn’t stupid
or maybe she thinks it’s cute
when i fumble over my lines
(you’re losing time just say something!)
hey, how are y-
(too generic)
the weather’s nic-
(it’s raining, stupid!)
I-
(you’re fumbling)
but,
she laughed?
(giggled)

Is this what life feels like?
Silent nights, bright red tears strolling by a streetlight?
Fear colored nails
hidden in fists
ready to fight?
What a sight...what a sight indeed.
The smell of decay in newleaf,
Dead souls still dragging their feet
in sync with the star-crossed beat of misery
empty screams echoing through a deserted street of a ghost town
trapped in the masks of crying clowns
forever adding souls to their count...
What will I do when they come for me?
Flee to the taboo tree of visionary ecstasy
Dive into a sea of all seeing entities
Or fight against the horde of everlasting--

It's a sanctuary of temporary forevers and nostalgic promises
A charity snatching what we have to give.
We constantly find ourselves consumed and digested by it
Yet this is our violent addiction to ******
And I'm looking my dealer dead in His sockets asking
Can I live?

There was a time,
A year into the future,
when we used to frolic and dance in the sand.
Usually, I don't like beaches,
I hate large crowds,
Hate 'em hate 'em
and I will 'till pigs fly.
Sometimes I think I'm not like the others
even though I desperately wish to be.
I'd like to donate my shoe collection
to the Salvation Army, or Goodwill,
for them to be put to better use
instead of sitting unused
surrounded by crumpled tissues and overdue books.
Or I could build a time capsule
to be opened the next century.
Hopefully the future Ebenezer Scrooge
finds the Ghost of Frolicking Past
and actually learns to enjoy beaches.

Tired of runnin’
And fussin’
And sparin’ the details.

We got it good now,
A house, a family, you can go to school.
You won’t learn about us, baby,
They don’t give lessons on strange fruits.

The road derails, your smile retains:
Hope.
I pray you’ll never see blood on the leaves.

I have a story. But it’s going to sound like a bad one.
I know I’m not good at them, I make them boring and start to ramble on and use run on sentences but that’s just because I don’t know how to say what I’m trying to become --
Like that.
****.
But yeah. Here goes-

I was lost in a crowd. This crowd,
of, onyx and granite, thieves and bandits and hopeless romantics,
and I was beginning to become one of them…
my voice was losing it’s sound.
But in this crowd of blacks, grays, and whites,
something stood out, this shining light
of green
and I didn’t really know what to do
(as you can see, I’m not too good at explaining things)
That green just so happened to be you
And the way this story goes, you pulled me out of that crowd,
and saved me
from a brief eulogy.

But let’s say, in our story, that green went away
and left me in a state of… disarray.
So I’m watching that green step foot on a different land
with my mind repeating “until we meet again”
Not knowing what I’d do without a yin
to lend a hand to my yang
As I felt the metallic tang of regret, pain, and hellish heartbreak rise in my main vein and artery --
I’m rambling.
Long story medium, I went without the green
and the sun shined a harsh light. The sheen got to me… I was growing crazy.
I had to leave.

I was at a train station, in a bustling crowd
full of gray faces, and black sounds
I couldn’t hear, it was so loud,
But I could see.
And I saw a train stop, doors open, and a ray of green
And that green just happened to be you
And all I remember thinking was
********, you're beautiful.

I got a pair of Starburys when I was ten.
Didn't want them,
I actually wanted some Heelys instead.
Wanted to be like my friends
and trip over pebbles
and get tucked into bed with band-aids.
My mom told me to stop focusing on their plates and look at mine.

I had a fork, spoon, and knives,
grown man portions: eyes the size of my stomach.
She was right --
I never liked training wheels, or cheat codes,
or elbow pads or nightlights.
Grown men aren't scared to fall,
so why am I?
Why am I twenty years old shopping on the Heelys website?

It was spring.
She knew it, and he knew it too,
That none of them had ever felt
the blooming of a myrtle, billowing
through the toxic waste ridden, loose,
unsettled earth. Never once had they heard
the sound of a newborn baby girl,
arms outstretched, wailing and wiggling
desperately searching for her father’s gasp.
It was spring.
No longer was the need for oversized fur coats,
for she now donned high-waisted shorts and a floral headband.
He didn’t understand,
his boat shoes had served him faithfully through the seasons.
But now,
It was spring.
They had ambrosia, and with each sip,
a new wave of blissful intoxication spread through them.
The new hip outlived the old hop,
The beach bodyguard was more trusted than the cop.
She stared deep into the clouds:
Never before had she seen
a cloud carry a continent, colliding
with the twisted, darkening sky.
She knew the smell of rain.
It was spring.

So, what if I told you
reality is the dream.
Are you prepared for the
                                         NIGHTMARE?
Do you want to wake up?
Yes, the key is to open your mind and wake up and become one of the socially conscious higher ups in the anarchy we call
Society,
But with great power comes great responsibility.
Honestly, do you believe in the prophecy that our generation can
RISE THROUGH ADVERSITY
Become the masterpiece that God envisioned when he created this tapestry of writers and athletes?
Actually, better yet
Do you believe in the ghost of the past that rest uncomfortably in it's sanctuary?
Are we the Golden Age or are we gilded
We're livid, vivid, driven toward a goal that looks more like a sign telling us we're going the wrong way.
A wicked testimony.
So we're faced with these two options
To wake up or remain dormant
To be a pawn or be a king
To live on our knees or die on our feet
And I don't blame you if you choose eternal slumber
Because we all love to sleep and it's ironic because that's what we look forward to to during each and every day we spend in this dream --
I mean, reality
But, if you choose to lay off the benadryl and take a dose of this "real world"
You may find that missing key you've been looking for.
Or, the glass can be empty and you find nothing but misery and insomnia.
Again, the choice is yours and even if it may SCARE you
Dying on your feet means you learned to walk.
Isn't that the first thing we learn to do?
So maybe our parents actually taught a life lesson
(to our extreme disbelief)
And do know a thing or two
But still, we are the iPhone generation
And they have no clue how to tweet anti government conspiracies and
scroll for hours on tumblr
So what do they know
For all we know they may still be asleep and in the same cheap hotel room as us
So is there to trust
When we dream of gamemasters loving torturing the lower classes and pitting them against each other in death matches?!
Take this match and spark the cowards
Bring light to the revolution and set ablaze the darkening towers
Let's have lucid dreams and rebuild the democracy
Dreams and reality become synonymous and merge into each other to form a new entity and we shall call it
**GOD? YOUR MASTERPIECE!

It wouldn't be hard, y'know...
Just, float away, really far,
I see your scars, I see your gold
and personality, oh... don't get me goin'.
Just know this
Your pain... I understand, no
it's your biggest strength, you just haven't realized it.
I have... now just listen
I'm coming off as... I don't know, this is stupid
I know I'm not Cupid, I'm simply a Human
But I can be a cloud, and you can too
and we can float away...

I wanted to write this to you a lifetime (or two) ago.
But, my apologies, I couldn't muster up the courage,
The way the ocean pits of Mars glints in your gaze
stops me in my tracks.
I tried running, rushing, ranting, pretending I was amazing,
all to grab a fraction of a second,
the chance to see beyond this planet.
Your soul, the very essence, it’s divine, extraterrestrial,
the sudden urge to maximize my potential while exploring the depths of yours
and, if Mars were to one day collide with Earth,
My only wish is to end up in one of its pools

I hate resorts and I hate vacations.
I hate birthdays, I hate celebrations.
I hate pop radio stations and I hate cajun seasoning

I hate New York I hate the feeling,
I hate being a tourist I hate sightseeing.
I tried being happy I tried doing the right thing,
Until I tried smashing through the glass ceiling and broke my hand on the concrete.

I thought an apple a day keeps the doctor away
I figured out that he's just running late on the subway

If I were to talk to god,
I imagine that he would look like an aging French artist living in Germany,
With a slightly severe case of depression
And also an unsettling smoking addiction.

I imagine he would be living in an apartment room barely big enough for his ego.
With nothing but a bed and a nightstand
with an ash tray and a bottle of whiskey, half full.
And between puffs of smoke he would sip from a lowball glass, and sit.

He’d keep his door unlocked, for no one ever visits,
And when they do, they assume they’ve opened the wrong door
And they would quickly go search for the man they thought he was.
He’d let out a chuckle between sips.

However, if I were to meet this artist,
I would just ask him what he’s done.
And he will reply, with smoke trailing from his nostrils and the tone of a drunk,
"Hell if I know."

We're not kids anymore, and it's bittersweet.
We've changed; I'm not bitter. I pray you're not.

Along the way, we forget that we have to grow up,
and grow apart.
My mother told me life is ever changing seasons,
Winter isn't Spring, and Fall isn't Summer.

Is it not foolish to wear a fur in the rain,
or a swimsuit in the snow?

Seasons will shift on their own,
and we are nothing but clouds.
It is not so wrong to assume
we were only passing through.

I'm on the Empire State Building.
The air has never felt so thin,
my clothes so light,
almost weightless in the way they fit.

It's rush hour.
Below me, the bustling pace
of the Big Apple. New York City
never sleeps, so they miss things often.

It's a Sunday morning.
I can hear the bells...
They're louder than usual today.
Is there a wedding?

Everything's black.
The dresses, suits, the ties, the back of my eyelids.
I'm at the peak of the city that never sleeps.
The angels have begun descending.
I'm ready.

You must let the kids
sing in the rain, darling.

We just sat there.

Talking.

Not much about anything, or anybody,

Just stupid things

Such as coffee shops and Energizer bunnies.

Small talk that I never forgot.

My fear is that you did

See, it’s more of a… hypnosis,
A deep slumber of an everlasting fantasy. Trust me, I love it.
Like a whisk into a different parallel world
Filled with flashing colors that swirl and twirl, in fact,
kind of similar to a dress on a ballroom floor.
Not just any ballroom floor though.
No, this, like Van Gogh’s Starry Night
a masterpiece that cannot be replicated,
and to step foot on it is one of careful deep sea excitement
I wish to step there.

However, I am a tad ungraceful
and my feet are about as elegant as a scuba diver’s flippers.
So I might just impersonate one
and dive deep into the sea of the unknown and secret homes
hoping it delivers an innate whisper of the anticipation, the excitement
of this hypnotic, starry world.

Deeper I go, into this never ending oceanic abyss
With the darkness just as tongue twisting as it gets
Looking for something, anything,
to salvage my reason for going this deep, this late,
Because I have a tendency to procrastinate about the tasks most essential to my fate.

But, if you want, you can accompany me
and we can scuba dive together
into the deep sea of the not yet discovered and shining beacons of wonder
And if we’re lucky, we might find the lost city of Atlantis.
And while we’re there we can search and search for the spoils and riches of the hidden majesty
and wouldn't it be just lovely if we find a treasure chest, something?
With an eye for design we can admire it’s beauty
but we have to open it
because that’s the secret in the treasure.
To open it.
And the contents are the spoils.
*Open it.

I remember,
My usual nonchalant demeanor going completely bananas in my cubicle of a room
After enlisting to deliver you ice cream.
No, not just any ice cream,
Strawberry with bananas and gummy bears.
I thought it as an awkward combination
But when I got in the car,
The sparrows were flying in two adjacent v-shaped formations.
Slightly puzzled, I pondered if maybe one day I'll meet a sparrow, or anything with enough courage to brave the skies,
Soaring, knowing in time, their wings will tire, and locating a perch is then of importance.
Because life's goal, humans and creatures alike,
Is to find a whisper of a nightingale's song,
Or, possibly, the eccentric taste of a spoonful of their favorite ice cream.

“My sole goal in life is to keep racing
down the interstate without a clock
so I can keep going until people forget who I am.”
In my head I knew I was wrong
hypocritical, insane, illogical, but above all I was still
humane!
This, yes, this sole fact is what keeps me
separated from you
draw a straight line down the road we lived on
the squares and the circles.

You, with your fancy plaque and NHS bumper sticker
With the family of four and no reason to feel failure
With your perfect scores and magnificent vernacular
Who let you have it so easy?!

Me, with my Jimi Hendrix poster
family of who knows how many
and the chance to earn my GED in a few years
Why was it me?!

You met your wife in the 10th grade
You gave her a promise ring and everything
Even took her with you on spring break
Who said you didn't have to try?!

I was placed in the wards that year
they said it was insanity
I thought I was just thinking ahead
Why can’t they understand?!

BUT THEY ALWAYS UNDERSTAND YOU!

You, your Shakespeare perfect jargon
Mr. Right, Perfect, next coming of Beethoven
You were made to please everyone and become important!

And that’s what separates us.
Even though it’s the same street that raised us
I bought the Harley and your parents got you the Chevy.
And I recall the one time I was flying down the interstate
And caught up to you as you were going nothing higher than 70.
I stared at you and you kept your eyes on the road.
I don’t blame you, I knew that you just wanted to see my bomber jacket
I have a skull on fire on the back of it
So I gave you a great view
hope you enjoyed it.

It gets... agonizing.
So, very agonizing, and she wonders through the days,
"will it ever end?"
Perhaps, maybe, the divinity of nature
struck down on the undeserving.
A mistake is not a lifetime
                            but a good portion of it
and deep down she knows she couldn't
but each day regrets her decisions
and rubs lamps on nightstands littered with lotto tickets.
To make matters worse, or better,
all around her are visions of joy,
                            happiness, love?
And by accepting her fate,
she embraces, and acknowledges,
that the deed was surely done,
and life in death.

Brilliant.
Life flies by as she walks with resilience.
She's persistent, her mission is critical
in the realm of the spiritual, she's something like a miracle,
But she's a burden bearer, and her limit isn't infinite.
She's placed her heart on a crucifix, taking the blame for others misfits
for years...
                  she's had enough.

She weighs her pros and cons, contemplating actions,
Her soul's an equation, this life is just a fraction,
In life she's a boss, yet in death she's a god,
But now she'***** her wall... she's falling apart...

She wonders, can she go on, for the people?
Or can she be selfish for once
                                                 To be continued

Brilliant.
Life flies by as she walks with resilience.
She's persistent, her mission is critical
in the realm of the spiritual, she's something like a miracle,
But she's a burden bearer, and her limit isn't infinite.
She's placed her heart on a crucifix, taking the blame for others misfits
for years...
                  she's had enough.

She weighs her pros and cons, contemplating actions,
Her soul's an equation, this life is just a fraction,
In life she's a boss, yet in death she's a god,
But now she'***** her wall... she's falling apart...

She wonders, can she go on, for the people?
Or can she be selfish for once
                                                 To be continued

There was something about that memory of that sunset from like 10 years ago
With the summer cold closing in on my parent’s old bones
and the summer bliss embracing my naive young kiss
I just want to go back sometimes,
Sometimes, I miss the lights, sights, frights,
The bruises, blood, and peroxide,
Young minds sanctified by pure fun outside.
I remember playing roller hockey in the street
But I got grounded for throwing the puck at some teeth
Nobody got hurt, and the next day
We were back at it, finding random exotic leaves.
It was fun.
I remember playing video games when it was raining outside
And fighting over who got to be player one
Now I remember when there were perfect clouds in the sky
and we were playing video games until the stories were done
that was yesterday.

(to be continued)

One day... I woke up.
I don't remember how long I was asleep,
or even if I was asleep,
or dead,
or something.
There are just some things in life that can't be understood.
And for a long time, I refused to take that for an answer. I mean,
WHY?!
The unanswerable question and answer.
One day, long ago,
I took a break from the world to visit the cosmos.
I don't remember how long I was gone,
or even if I left,
but what I do know,
is nothing.
Nothing more than you.
And I'm okay with that.

I think I'm finally, truly,
in over my head.
Might as well leave me dead
and lying in a makeshift bed of forgetful threads
                 and memories
hoping I transcend into heavens
even know you know **** well I'm bound
                  to go to hell.
Don't bother saving me.

I became too confident and complacent in my abilities
with a mindset that with limitless possibilities
I could accomplish anything
                  because I'm me...
And nothing's better. Laugh at my stupidity.

And when I'm at the gate to Hell with my back turned to
that cloud of pure brilliance and nirvana
no longer able to keep the plethora of problems that are
                  driving me to insanity
remember my past self; a visionary
who traveled the road of chaotic sanctuary
until his mind imploded and managed to obliterate.
                   Thanks.

I ******* hate every last fiber of your being.
Die.
Do me a favor, before I do the pleasure,
It's now or never, because I can't do it
when the anger subsides.

I just want to say goodbye.

Which is exactly why I'm wishing for your death
while praying for a resurrection
and digging your grave
in search of your affection
right?

Empty bottles of coke
faithfully littering the floor around my
desk, bed, anything they can lay their hands on.
A naive combination of sleeping pills and energy drinks
On my nightstand,
patiently waiting in anticipation,
for their next chance at tempting me into submission,
the poor man's deviled eggs with a side of Hennessy.

Ah, how great it would be,
if the lonely bottles of water by my television
could possibly purge me
Or, maybe, offer a Depression-era baptismal service
So I can find my peace of mind,
as another bottle hits the floor.

So there I was, and there you were, all of us,
everyone, dangling their feet off the rooftop.
Four distinctly different artists caught in the same painting
yet, none of us holding the paintbrush to our passions, yet.

Ambitious, yes, focused, not so much, motivated? Most definitely.

Dedicated to manipulation,
to making a masterpiece for the masses,
a decision to "form a more perfect union".  
To map a new demographic before our deaths.

If our desire was to make a mark, well,
we'd be done already.
The mark's been made, but not engraved,
and for it to stay we need to stomp on it until our own foot decays.

And these days, most pictures will fade,
So as us four sat there, dancing with the devil,
we dared to begin drafting on our canvas.
With no brush, but our own fingers,
our own blood, sweat, tears, and elbow grease,
finally finding the paintbrush to be figurative,
that we were manipulated ourselves.

We learned to picture the paintbrush as our pointer,
our palms the palettes, our pinkies the varnish,
a promise our piece would never be vandalized.

The world is your oyster, they say,
and the city was our canvas,
where we painted nothing but pearls,
rare commodities for the communities to cherish
until our masterpiece, the indefinite work in progress, is completed.

First off, let me start by saying I don't like you
Scared of you, but I'll be ****** if I don't fight you
Problem is, I've never seen you with a losing factor,
You and defeat really aren't benefactors

I remember Uncle Junior and his fight with you, *******
I remember as they put him under, the air filled with your laughter
It was maniacal, but final, another win in your column
And I'm waiting for the day that you'll hit rock bottom

It won't happen, it's saddenin', I'm realizin' what is happenin'
You're already winnin', your hold on me has been tightenin',
It's like you never miss a beat, even worse, you play for keeps
When I think you're figured out, your mask is crawling with deceit

But I hope you get this and memorize every line
Just know the war isn't over, my spirit's still shining bright
I dare you to write back, you're simply an enemy
I'll pray for your defeat...
                            Sincerely, Me

We kinda hop our way along--
with purpose, don't get me wrong--
on a quest to find what we need to survive.
Every now and then, we stop, pause
we think we've found it, but we're surely wrong
and we continue to play this game of hide 'n seek
knowing that if we find it, we'll keep it,
for without it, we're weak...we're incomplete.
And the thing is, we can't stop searching
using this burning instinct to lead us on this never ending journey
To nirvana
Or oblivion

it's been a journey hasn't it?
fascinated by differences that revealed our deepest secrets
that we told no soul yet felt consoled by the meanings
of each others thoughts, opinions, ideals; now I'm dealing
with this crazy sense
that I'll never find anything as fascinating again.

I admit, I was a little over my head
trying to be Superman
tackling problems I didn't even understand
I was your biggest fan, of your ideals
the way you could comprehend
what I tried to explain
when I didn't think anyone could or can.
It's bothering me
that you might not comprehend again.

I guess it's on me
for being too blind to see
that we couldn't be on the same team if I tried chasing a different dream
that I believed was the key for me.
Now I'm sitting here hoping the combination is correct
"only time will tell"

well
while time drifts us afar
just know I'm wishing we'll float back together
some way, somehow
and if you comprehend this
I'll know the magic hasn't ended
between us... whatever it is.
So
until our friendship is mended
I'll be in the distance
my copacetic presence
waiting for you to become my yin again.
                                  

                                                    -*Me

Why am I here?
Am I simply a placeholder
Sitting
In hopes of a way out
Maybe, no, yes, I'm just a placebo
Easing my way through a loophole
Accessing every cheat code
Now it seems I've run out of cheats
Taking them for granted to complete
Task after task after task.
Or, have I just run out of luck
Dreading this day
I guess it has struck
Even though I've been waiting for it.

So many words for you.
But I'll keep them to myself... wrong time, wrong place,
With a mindset that'll leave behind a bitter taste.
This winter was indeed the coldest, showing no mercy
Hopefully the new leaf relieves me of my duty.
It kills me, but I hope it's true.

So which one of us really played the fool?
You broke them, and since you broke them I decided to bend them rules.
Are we both wrong, remember the song, is the answer yes or... is that wrong, too?
It makes me really wonder what was really taboo.

Every word saved for you...
Has been picked from an unknown, uncharted void.
Each of these dead petals I'd rather set fire to
And erase any trace of this little twist in fate.
Wait, would I, could I really say, stay day to day that way?
**** me first, before that's true.

I really wish I was a kid again,
But, it's really shocking,
because I've waited so long to grow up.

I was so wrong to believe
that adulthood was a great place to go hiking.
I really wish I was a kid again.

However, all my goals I've yet to achieve
Make these unknown trails so very enticing,
because I've waited so long to grow up.

Even though I was incredibly naive,
If I said I wouldn't go back, even for a day, I'd be lying.
I really wish I was a kid again.

Time is a **** in a band of thieves,
Who always stole, but I was never crying,
because I've waited so long to grow up.

Aging is a quilt some will never want to weave,
But I want to make more than one. Honestly,
I really wish I was a kid again,
because I've waited so long to grow up.

I remember the days
where we could laugh and play
in the middle of August.
Those days where the sun
had no bounds. We played

until we couldn't breathe, until
our voices were no more than
shallow sounds lost in the breeze
that carried them until they
lost meaning.

Looking back, I wonder when that day came.
When did those voices fall mute?
When did they die?

Or maybe, are they out there?
Still floating on the wind,
lofty clouds that will never rain?

Everyone knew, including him,
that if you sat too close to the TV, your eyes would die.
But nobody knew, but him,
that if you sit too far away, you miss out on the experience.
It's why he plays!

A lot of time spent
having miscellaneous conversations with the air.
Even stupid questions like "how's your day" acting as if it'd give an answer, or, even more,
a whisper of inspiration
It's an obligation, or, maybe a delegation, or, a confirmation?
that we will create a masterpiece before insane peace
With a piece of our minds becoming a little less peaceful by the day.
Soon our minds will turn into violent catapults hurling out sentence after sentence making our paper bleed
                                                     Black, Blue, Red, Gray
Joining a cult created by the letters we created ourselves
falling into the abyss these stanzas and paragraphs invite us into
And don't get me wrong, it sounds terrible, but it's home.
There's no place like it.
Where these words are so much more than words,
they're family.
But frequently, we get into arguments that erupt into something sinister
and our desks become littered with papers that wilt and wither into nothing more than liters upon liters
of a type of alcoholic beverage that'll tempt us into becoming outspoken drunkards
But that's the goal:
*to be outspoken.