I read somewhere once that,
The most upsetting thing is
when you realize that you've spent every single day with someone,
seeing them every moment of the day
before you go to sleep and even when you wake up
just to have all that thrown away over someone who doesn't even matter.
It hurts when you loose someone you care about
but I think
it hurts even more when you loose that person you care about who,
was not only your everything but also your best friend.

I never meant to pierce with your heart with a spear of hurt.
I wanted to pierce your heart with a sword so that I may obtain your trust and love.
I want to spend each moment of the day with you until I fall asleep
And I want to be the one you lay your head next to.

Because when you wake up…
I want to be the first thing you think about.
I want the letters of my name run across your mind.
When you wake up…
I want you to be assured that each day meant something,
That each day and second mattered.
When you wake up…
I want to be right there and see each centimeter of your eye open.
I want to lie next to so close till I can count each specific eye lash upon each one of your eye lids.
When you wake up…
I want to know that I finished first place at the finish line of your dreams.
When you wake up…
I want to be intimate, not physically, but mentally until our lusts become desired love.
I want our mental copulation to be wrapped in undefined love.

When I look into your eyes I want to see that I am embedded in your mind and you in mine.
I want you to fall asleep the night before and know that I’m here to stay
And when you wake up…
You take a breathe open your eyes, and see me laying in your bed.

I'm lost in times, trying to find the the ties to bind things together,
trying to figure out the puzzle, with a muzzle covered mind,
I stay quite, bundle my thoughts inside,
hiding my expressions through expressive lies,
Sometimes i wonder should I even try,
I ask why the lies to hide the tears that fall from my eyes.

I hear with my ears, but I don't see clear,  
I don't understand why my footprints should be left in sand.
The sun is bright but it doesn't light the day, from far away
I see the cloud covered mountains.
Hoping to climb without a fall, but it's impossible they say.

Raise me up into the clouds, Lord I pray you lift me up,
let me ride the wings of glory,
let  me fly into tour pathway,
may I ask for a better story
you showed me many things, but I want you to show more,
open my eyes, let me ride the tide to the sea shore.

I write another verse to replace the space of the first that has been erased.
Chaotic thoughts roam freely,
I need my Pen, where are you my friend?
I call upon you once again,
I set you down and now I'm lost in the times trying to find the ties  to.....

What do you see when you look at a person?
Do you see the color of their skin?
Or do you look into their eyes, under that flesh,
Pass those bones
And see who they really are.
Inside their heart, inside their mind, inside their soul
In hopes to get to know that real person.

And not how they behave,
Or by their name,
Or even by what they say

We ought to look pass our cultural differences, and notice that we are as one culture.
One body, one mind made of many
You, Me
Him, Her
Male and Female
Black and White
Mexican and Asian
Muslim and Jew
Christian and even Buddhist
No matter who are, what we believe or where we came from we are one
And we all seem to forget one thing that
All of us, together, on this earth share a single breath of life.

We all have one body,
One mind
One soul
How can I begin to stress that we are one
We are…
The air that fills this earth
We are…
The rays that make up the sun
We are…
The stars in the sky
The birds that soar high
We are, all together…one

The only thing that makes us different is our skin tone
That’s only because some of us produces more melatonin
And in my prayers I’m hoping, that
Some of us will see MLK’s dream
And God’s will for us to be…one

The polychromatic features of my mind are shining
as the white light hits my eyes
Bright colors bursts and burns wholes in the black and white images I used to keep,  burning the old periodicals of my past life,
I cease to see the enriching shades of many colors,
like shades blocking rays from the sun,
the colors become an image of my soul,  
a beautiful painting, mounted on a wall, never to move or fall,
only to be posted up at a famous museum for people to stare and criticize,
then theres that one person who looks upon and hopes to buy
but a price for this piece could be priceless
a painting at ease in time, with colors essential to mankind.
Color blind like dogs, to the them images are colorless
No room for peace or an open mind.
A person dripped in black tears falling from eyes of false hope.
Hopelessness becomes the very thing I use to cope.

I am surrounded by a heavily massed army of syringes,
Syringes that pierce my soul, and inject it with the fluid of hatred
Syringes that take from my soul leaving black wholes with in me that swallow up the massive attack of the masses.
Oh you strange syringe, why tempt me into your malice, in hopes that I will grab it, reaching the idiopathic havoc that is sanely insane within my mind.
Oh syringes the pain you cause me, do you not see? You inject me with hatred, but do not expect to be hated, how dare you, oh foolish, and foul syringes that leaves blood dripping from mine own eyes
And I stand in a puddle of tears, in hopes to see the reflection of my sorrow
I see my reflection, but what I see is not me, what I see is dark and cold blooded, could it be really me? How do I save my self from such pain?

I just really need someone to talk to
Long days and nights are starting to get hard too
Spending nights alone was never really my thing,
You see sometimes I like awake and wonder what if my life was different,
But just like always nobody seems to listen,

So I try to channel my trials and tribulations through
Pounding keys, chipping graphite, or spilling ink,
I just want a sympathetic ear just like the females,
But that seems too homosexual for the heterosexual,
You see a lot times I’m told to hang out with the good people,
But the “good” people aren’t so good,
And the “bad” people are the ones who seem to really care.  

I stumble and I fall sometimes I wonder when it will come to and end
And when the times is near and a new tunnel will begin
Inside the tunnel, racing from my death  
I see the light, but the darkness seems to suppress
And it seems as if the clock never stops.
The chime is to loud to block out,
The alarm rings and I hear roars of different sounds

Noises in my head I try to keep quite
But they scream and shout, looking to get out
My thoughts never cease to roam, my mind always wonder
I ponder when the tears will stop, when will they dry up and my thoughts rot
Maybe when I have that person, maybe before they will see the hearses.