I am sad again, but I have no idea why.
Living keenly with an idea of what I want out of life.
My favorite season, autumn, is upon us.
And my writing is frequent and fulfilling.
So why am I sad again and why am I an orange juice, spilling?

I miss the days where drugs meant fun. Where ridicule was a pasttime.
Between best friends, and Windows didn't force updates.
The Internet was an escape around which Identity was ignored.
You were your username,
and you were too full to be bored.

I am sad again despite selling two poems to a couple patrons
during an open mic night I frequent.
I hadn't been much, chose instead to spend
my time writing and feeling sorry for myself.
Now that I'm out again and re-befriending familiar faces.
It almost feels like belonging is as lost as context between the spaces.
I'm stark raving sad and I've only just arrived.
One year finally after the middle-age of twenty five.
If I make it until January consider me your unlucky kin.
A day without morbidity, how long has it since last been?

Too long;
So long, too.

i felt tears run down my cheeks as i thought about everything once again.
how the events in my life lead me to this point in time.
how i am the person i am because of my past and the people in life.
i don't know what this feeling is but i'm feeling.
the lump in my throat grows and climbs upwards to the point where i just stare at my ceiling,
mouth opened,
tears running down my face,
i'm paralyzed in this moment.

i deserve to be happy.
it's taken a lot to finally say that.
i wish time would stop.
i wish i could breathe without worry.
there will be a day where i'll wake up to wind chimes and waves softly crashing,
and this is enough for me.
these tears,
these tears are tears of acceptance and this is enough.

Fear no man or his words
only what he's capable of
doing behind your back.
Bow down to no man ,
not only if you attend his funeral
and see him turn and rise.
Consider all men equal
because no matter what he has,
or what position he occupies,
like you, he was born naked
and will surely die some day.

©IvanBrooksPoetry
14/10/2018

Love is like a ****** - it hurts at first
Like a shooting pain from a needle that
****** the skin in a middle of your arm
Like a fire, floating through your veins as it
Burns it's way to a middle of your heart
Before it clouds your mind
You feel your body float as
Free as one will ever be
Unknowingly your mind slows and races
To unimagined peak of ecstasy.

People walk on by and only glance in my direction
unaware that I am suffering from a deep rooted infection.
For don't you see that I'm painfully dying
and in the future you'll know that I could've been saved,
all it took was a simple moment of trying
and to hear the things that I always craved.

They tell you a drowning man will drag you down
but I've always been a strong swimmer,
we can easily take on another pound
just focus on the waves surfing glimmer.
Keep going, keep rowing,
don't inhale that salty sea.
The wind's blowing, exhaustion is showing,
I'll hold you up even when you can't hold me.

People walk on by and only glance in my direction
they aren't the slightest bit shocked at my self inflicted dissection.
For I desperately need to remove my organs of rot,
these days feeling just takes too much of a toll on me,
and they're so badly damaged that no customer has bought,
even when I offered them up for free.

They tell you a drowning man will drag you under
but I've always been gifted with a swift stroke,
how I made it out this far truly is a wonder,
or maybe just another sad tasteless joke.
Keep going, keep towing,
don't you give up so easily.
The wind's blowing, pace is slowing,
I'll hold you up even when you can't hold me.

So call me Ismael 'cause I'm lost at sea,
was caught up in a current very swiftly,
and my white whale has lost all interest in me,
I guess there's some other place it would rather be,
than stuck in my sad excuse for company.
Do I glimpse land's salvation or am I just succumbing to insanity?

I planted a seed
I watched it grow.
I watered it daily
I loved it so.

Every morning I opened my eyes
So I could admire you.
And you used to look back at me
and you admired me too.

But I looked to the horizon,
and I saw death in the sky.
Then, the storm took you away from me
and I couldn't understand why.

It's been a long time
since I lost my sweet, pretty flower
Sometimes I want to plant a new one
But I don't think it will grow.

Sometimes I feel like I've already planted one
Other times I feel like I never did.
Maybe I planted it but never watered it.
I don't really know.

I want to ask you to be my sweet, pretty flower
But I think I forgot how.

The day we met...
They were the water
surrounding an exotic island.
They were calm and peaceful,
sparkling in the sun.
I swam with leisure.

The day we fought...
They were the sea
before a storm.
Swirling currents
chilled me to the bone.
I struggled against the current.

The day he left...
It was like a hurricane hit
our once peaceful beach.
The waves were wild.
They flashed with lightning.
I finally drown.

Everything I write, everything I draw; delete

The things I create, I cannot complete

Is it being insecure or being lazy?                                                            ­                                                                 ­     

I don't know how to be a productive lady                    

I feel stupid                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                  

Since I can't anything executed

My work lives in the recycling bin

It's close in resemblance to a din

The backspace key is faded

My soul is abraded

I hate that I can't articulate

Does anyone else relate?

At least this poem is finished but it has no real end                                                              ­                                

I hope it shows what I intend

Pretty Dolly,
Pretty Dolly,
That's what they called her.
She'd run around in her white gown,
thinking no one could touch her.
Pretty Dolly,
Pretty Dolly,
That's what she'd heard.
As all the people around town tried to control her
Didn't even exist, but people could see her
Her non-existent heart wrenched as she watched people around her.
Pretty Dolly,
Pretty Dolly,
That's what she'd seen.
Figured she'd put them all out of their misery,
Red splattering her gown,
As they bowed down like she were their queen.
She was the talk of town,
As she ran around
Now that she knew she could only be seen
By those who weren't sane in the brain
How cruel of this world to be so mean
Pretty Dolly,
Pretty Dolly,
That's what they called her.
Her white gown turning brown from the dirt of the world around her
Pretty Dolly,
Pretty Dolly,
Just a ghost of what those who wanted help wanted.
A cruel reality-check,
They were all haunted.
Pretty Dolly,
Pretty Dolly,
That's what she'd been seen as
Her ghostly form
She showed no remorse
As she left them in the dirt
Pretty Dolly,
Pretty Dolly.