I am not a poet,
But a poem,
Just trying to complete myself.
Or maybe,
-I am Completing myself..

Waiting for the sun to come
Banish this fog
And vanish the frost
From my shuddering skin
The ice is melting, the sea overflows
The air blows hot and cold, that's something that a lot of people don't understand
Global warming coincides with ice ages
I confide my hate and my hope to adjacent pages
In my manual of how not to be
If I have to burn, I hope the sun swallows me
But the horizon lies and makes promises that it can't keep
And yeah, I feel something moving in the deep
But my world is standing still and
My armor is cracked, retract the knife from my back
Before it corrodes from my acidic soul
The shadows impose upon the earth and
The night, there is no light to go around
I see the ground and the void compromising
I see the sun still isn't rising
And the fog is tenacious, voraciously seeking
Out alveolar spaces in my lungs
If there is a god why does it only help some?
I'm so ******* tired
Just let the end come

Although all poets write well, only those becomes popular who learn to respect the work of others..

Sometimes, I feel like a ghost
Surrounded by people and silently brooding
Between two worlds, trapped like a rat
In a prison of endless sky, horizons encroaching
And closing in, curling into the helical
Bars of my spherical cage
I am the movement in the shadows
Of your soul, only the lost hear
My meaningless whispers and with
Each passing moment, my virulence grows
There is no light, no darkness, only
Shades of each other, blood and bone
Blending together to form the palette of
Your insides, but you see right through me
I am transparent and colorless and simple
In a life so complex and opaque, I aspire to simply
Fade away, to evaporate into nothing
To become residual, like the static
In the background of the infinite heavens
That has always been there

I’m always picking up on the vibes that I don’t like
Get that feeling in my stomach that says something’s not right
It’s oh so very awkward and I don’t know what to say
There’s nothing I can do is there? **** this, I’m not okay

I’m dealing with disappointment; seems to me I deal too much
And I’m fighting back the sorrow, but I can’t hit hard enough
I just shrug my broken shoulders, then lie down and go to sleep
While the pain stabs me again, through flesh and bone so deep

I guess I just can't be your Darcy, you poor Elizabeth
Cause I’m not in your heart, see? Guess I've got nothing left
So I’ll leave you to your books and I’ll leave without my soul
I swear I’ll never read again if you want me to go

I guess I couldn't show you how warm I would've made your bed
I guess I couldn't hold you, write a poem you should’ve read
You thought libraries were quiet? Out in space, silence is bolder
And you thought you were cold? Well, I was ready, space is colder

I guess you never wanted to see the only star-
That I’ll ever reach, the others are too far
And you never wanted to share in each others lives
So guess I’ll just sit here, reaching for the sky

You’ll be in your library; I’ll be out ******* up
You could reach the sky, baby, but I never had good luck
You shouldn't ever be afraid and I just don’t give a ****
You’ll be the one in books one day, I’ll be another broken man

It makes me feel so numb, the fact it’s really all the same
This time was just like all the others, you just had another name
And it makes me feel so sick; it’s ******* hopeless isn't it?
Guess I’ll have to deal till I can get drunk and just forget

And in my lonesome dreams you’ll be my angel on the moon
I wasn't good enough for you, or to walk on Martian dunes
So I'll just drown myself in rocket fuel and you get to be the flame
No, don't look at it like suicide, it's my 15 minute fame...

The Sun shines and the people walk by
While I'm in the shade, sitting
Watching the water ripple and roll
Sea green into the harbor
I feel like I'm watching
God, with its invisible paintbrush
Doing its work, even with the
Filthy city medium

The concrete angles contrasting the fluid water
And the colorful dragon paddle boats
Certainly makes for a nice picture, but
What does this moment mean?
I feel like it should mean
Something

The wind blows and the day grows
Older with each passing moment
The aroma of food is in the air
A pigeon lands near my feet and
Within seconds, three little boys begin
To shout names at it and chase it away
Oh, to be young again

A saxophone player plays here comes the bride
To a gaggle of women, both young and old
And I can't keep my eyes off the *** of this girl
While a performer performs for an impassive crowd
Then he asks for a volunteer
But only a child raises his hand
Oh, to be young again

A *** bums a cigarette off of me, passing thru
While a crazy guy listens to his headphones
And sings out loud to himself
Sounding like autism personified
And maybe he is

I can see the charm

Sometimes, I feel like a ghost
Surrounded by people, silently pleading,
"Liberation."
My very movements seem to  s t r e t c h  a c r o s s  t i m e . . . . .
And my voice always  e c h o e s  across      empty      chasms
Nah, I don't really party, I just haunt
I just linger
And no one ever knows
How long I've been there