Not rewriting my history,
I’m literally illiterate.

Incredibly inconsiderate,
this hypocritical little *****.

Pitiful for a minute when,
it took me years to fiddle in,

addiction being sickness,
self acceptance well equipped with it.

My father always told me,
I was gifted as he lit his hit.

I doubt that I should blame him,
for years of being mixed up with,
*****, ****, and pills
that lead me to these distances.

The people that I miss the most,
are missing from my Christmas list.

They’re dead or still so livid with,
this monster that they’re living with.

Imagine how I feel,
feeling nothing when I witness this.

I can peel an onion
and not tear up with the sniffles when,
the layers are discovered to be
years of unforgiven sin.

I pray the lord forgives me,
but the price of his forgiveness is,
giving up the only life
I like, so what’s the difference?
****.

As anger grew inside,
I threw aside a written list,
of empty, broken promises,
scripted by lost innocence.

Your friendship is like a kiss of death
It is better in the beginning
But slowly poisoning me with your affection.

And when I cling to you for strength
And when I need your breath in me
You silently draw away and leave me.

Better put a sting on my tongue
And punch me on the face than
Leaving me in silence and confusion.

A phone call,
small talk,
feelings and emotions,
a desire to know...

Know the person whom,
you say you love,
you say you care,
you say you want to know....
Before a lifelong commitment.

But can you, know and accept
things which you may not like?
Can you know and accept
a world where once you were not there?
Can you know, accept and still love
me with my past and present,
for a future of us?

Till then, I will lock inside,
feelings which I want to share,
with you whom I love.
Till then I will wait..
Till then I will wait...

I hope you never reach
The day
Where you are lost for words
Because they're tangled up in
Agony.

I hope you never reach
The point
Where your innocence of
The world is
Robbed.

I hope you choose
Your friends and
Lovers wisely
So that you never have to
Discover what it feels like
To see those who you believed
Would take a bullet for you
Dance behind the
Trigger.

no one startles a poet
when writing
because everyone knows
a pen is a
dangerous weapon
and when used correctly
can strike so deep
that even the poet
cannot undo its ink
as is it was tattoo'd
onto the fabric of existence
a sign of rebellion and pain
a battle wound for all to see
and to secretly judge
because we all know
when no ones around
is when the true colors
of a poem
come out.

That's the one I was talking about
When he broke your heart and your only escape was the keyboard?
I was listening
I'm being the best brother I can
But we've all got hiccups
And the choppy waters never end

The best we can do is to wait for
Landfall and hold onto hope until the world swallows us
Again and makes us into something new
But I see an awakening for you
In these coming months
So please, don't let go

You’ve changed, in a way that I know you don’t even recognize yourself. I know, because when you’re alone you frown at the floor and your face is absolutely heartbreaking but then she comes around and you put the face away and smile again. I could be delirious, you could just be happy, but are we really ever happy with something we cheated to get? Maybe you don’t see it that way, and you’re the happiest person in the world, but if you really are, then explain that face to me? I’ve only seen that face after your cousin died, when you were questioning God and why everyone was leaving your life. You look lost, but then again you look like a stranger, and I know of nothing in your life anymore, except these gut feelings that something isn’t okay. Is your mom okay? Is your grandmother healthy? Have you thought about suicide? Is she helping you pass with good grades? Is she funny? You deserve endless laughter. You’re changing, but maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s just because I’m on the outside. Somewhere I’m not used to being, and somewhere I wish I wasn’t. Maybe it’s because you said we’d still be friends and you still feel something, and maybe it’s because hope is dangerous. Because after I’d hoped that we’d be better and that you had the repressed feelings that I was experiencing out loud, and then you stopped talking to me, I lost everything. Now, don’t go thinking you are my everything, because you aren’t, but the concept was never something I hated. Back to why I’m writing this, does she have a soul like I do? Because I’d hate to know you’re being handled by someone who doesn’t have a deep soul, and sees the universe when they close their eyes. Are your car rides the same? Do you try to do the same things with them? Is she still pregnant? Isn’t she the good girl? Isn’t that why she’s easier to love and bring home to mom? Honestly, how is your mom? Sigh, I guess it’s okay. Just be careful…you can only change yourself so much before it becomes ******.

-g.e.s.