Drew was an artist who knew
That self-portraits were easy to do
She posed nearer and nearer
To her studio mirror
And it was there where Drew drew Drew

I watched the paper
soak up the ink
as it blotched
breast strokes
across the page...
suddenly,
street bound
jazz hounds
legs,
pinioned
to pavement,
hand signals
of  July scroll by,
a memory strolls
in reverse as a
name  scrawled contra
across  wheat covered
hills...returned to me
chaotic,
lovely.

A single day
took it's light
from the crayon
colored buildings
laughter ran out
from a beautiful city
where the seagulls  
brushed it's wings
against my cheek
like lovers once
embraced
arm in arm,
long before
infancy.

A memory plucked
from the eye of
golden Roses
littering the street
in irradiant petals
like pieces
of shattered
poetry
in the blood
of a waxing
poet.

I tell my parents, my ex (wishing she was mine), my friends, my siblings,
that "I am sick"

I now know that I'm not like flu, or cold, sick.
I'm so disgusted with myself that it make me feel sick,
It happens most when I look in the mirror, or get dressed, I don't have a point in trying anymore. So yeah..

What have I become?
A person living in the shadows of life
****** into the vacuum of technology
Only to wait in line to be spit out into shreds,
Left in pieces on the ground.

The phone took my life and hid it in a case;
The key is somewhere far away,
But the closer I move to it
The further away it gets.

The pieces of my puzzle are no longer together,
Or they never were,
But as life goes on the pieces get harder to put together.

Coiled up in the corner,
I see my reflection.
It’s slowly dying each day I live,
For my soul is a delicate crystal, fragile,
But it appears strong like a lion hunting its prey.

I convinced myself to believe that everything wrong
Has been my fault.
That I ended up where I am now because of
The choices I made.
I chose to be a part of the secrets;
And I chose to be a part of the chaos;
And I chose to give up my friends for popularity,

But in the end I lost.
I ended up lower than I was
And with very few true friends, I stay.

If life was meant to be this hard
Than why don’t I see everyone else struggle?
Or is everyone like me,
Hiding their feelings in a locked cage underground.

I try to be brave
And I end up with no results.
I try to be bold
And I get put back down.
I try to pull myself out of the quicksand that I am in,
But I continue to suffocate at the bottom
Being used as a stepping stool allowing everyone out,
But me.

I've kept the secrets of many,
Ones that I’ll never tell.
But all of mine have been spread
By the people I've treated well.

I can’t change the past,
And it seems like I can’t change the course of the future.
I have been set on a path down a never ending hill,
One scare after another,
A long road of obstacles leading nowhere.

I've tried to forget.
And I've tried to flee
From the fear.
But I find myself even more near to the things that hurt me most.

If I had a dollar for every time I did something wrong
I would be in Italy with my private jet
Relaxing on the beach,
But I still wouldn’t be happy.
For no matter how many pairs of shoes I have
Or how many vacations I take,
Happiness is never found in the riches you make;
But it is always found in love.

At a point in my life
I even had my own happiness.
He was the only thing that comforted me while I was upset,
But after it got too serious, I broke my happiness
And I left him crushed in tiny pieces on the ground,
And the situation was unfixable.
But now I want my happiness back.
It’s sad to say, but I miss what I wanted to get rid of;
For I curse the man who said love was an easy thing

But of everything I have done wrong,
My biggest regret is having regrets at all.

We sit here with our pitiful little lives
Ants. ******* ants
line our poetry on the left side
Why?
Because it makes me feel safe
when I'm never safe
can't feel safe
I speak lines in my head
waiting for the boom
the rush
the power
that never comes
because I'm an ant
I cry
but tears aren't worth anything
human bodies like gods
goddesses
we destroy them
all of them
minds
spirits
we destroy everything
not sure why
1 in 12
seems corny but these are the teens that will try to die
pick your friends
write their names
now for every 12 pick the one that will die
do you understand?
how's that for ******* real
I sit here
waiting for the bomb to drop
but it doesn't because on this world
the only reasons for me to live
are the reasons I give myself

to be real
for you to feel
for power
to move you
for tears
I feel weak
Vulnerable
if I could only just reach
the well of beauty the musicians do
I could believe again