How do you do,
Mr. Shadow on the wall,
No rudeness intended,
But I did not miss you,
In your absence.

Remember when I was young,
Remember when I was weak?
You stole my sense of purpose,
I let you in,
And you had your way with me.

One step forward,
Ten steps back.
Each step backward,
I felt your breath on my neck.
This time is different.

I reflect on yesterday,
Today is the day to ponder,
Today I see one small change,
I’m strong,
No longer small.

Same problems, New mind,
Loneliness still haunts my soul.
Your presence gives me agita,
Cramping my style,
In this newfound perspective.

Back to square one,
Back to my square roots,
These exponential problems,
Are not yours to guide me through.
Get away, Stay away.

Fragile Minded,
Gullibility that leaves me in embarrassment,
Causing an obvious departure from my notability.
I weaken as my former friends migrate to someone new,
Forgetting that it is time to move on.

I have struggles to let go from my past,
Nostalgia makes it impossible to achieve,
Those days have been long gone,
But my memory will always cherish them,
Even if they carelessly forget my name.

I'm wondering if my sadness is because I'm moving on from this place,
Or that I'm having trouble giving up the idea of it,
Whichever one my path leads to,
The lost art of smiling behooves me to feel blue.

It's meaningless and useless in regard to my successful future as a man,
But the emotional scarring will always be with me,
Part of me mourns my mistakes and lost notoriety,
But another part of me loathes the other part of me,
As it is someone I never truly wanted to be,
But had to be, in order to survive.

There were as many good times as there were bad,
But the bad times sinfully destroy my chances of retaining bitterness,
I've lost many girls before,
And friends who then became rivals.

Life in these years are like being guided by a safety net,
But the following year the world gets dropped in my hands,
Like a melted piece of clay,
And yet I have to be the one to mold it.

I'm not afraid of being a grown up,
I'm afraid to let go of my youth,
Not matter how petty and senseless these experiences may have turned out to be,
I'll always be me,
The teenager who refused to grow up.

The **** does it really?
The **** does it all mean?
To caren’t oh so freely,
To not aim to read in between.

The **** is this monstrosity?
The **** does this represent?
This self-aware precocity,
Diving and thriving in its own lament.

Possessions stemmed from possessiveness,
Losses that led to lenience,  
No ***** to give and not a **** to lose,
Too many have come and went.

The **** does it matter, truly?
The **** should it matter to me?
These thinking caps are on too tight,
I’ll embrace this coldness cruelly.

Not to say that I am so daft,
This emulation of me is unflattering,
I’ve come to love this newfound craft,
The ***** become irrelevant when they stop mattering.

We question why is it that life,
Has a beginning, middle and end,
Yet space seems continuous,
Could you please help me comprehend?

A small spec of dust we are,
On a sea of psychedelic abstract,
Our universe is quite mediocre,
Comparing it to its extract.

Everlasting... what,
What is it that we seem to admire,
A lack of carbon energy,
Requiring us to wear glass hoods?

Why oh why is it existent,
Why does it ever be,
I still am boggled by this infinite setting,
Can it possibly be part of me?

What does it matter?
These thoughts,
Feelings,
Concerns,
Are merely passers-by,
In this life of uncertainty.

No thought goes unforgotten,
So why do I think so much?

Leaves are falling all around me,
containing such color and beauty.
The smell of the air is crisp,
Like dew on mountain trees.

The temperature outside decreasing,
As does my care in the world,
When I'm drawing smoke,
from such tobacco that is sweet.
It is now my favorite season.
A season I have branded "Pipe Season".

A pipe made of corn,
A heart made from passion.
A hobby I consider gold.
I'll continue to love this pipe of mine,
Until I'm eighty years old.

Rich clouds drawn from flaming leaves,
Leaves seasoned like cucumbers resting in salted vinegar.
The chilled breeze of Autumn flows smoothly,
With my vanilla flavored taste buds.

An odor like heaven enters my nose,
I grow fond of my handheld chimney,
Sitting at my palm as I admire it as a work of art.
Surpassing the Sistine Chapel,
Through my teak colored eyes.

Now I feel that Autumn is here,
This pipe has inspired it's elegance.
But what will become of it when the Winter arrives?
This moment will eventually end,
I fear.

What do I do?
What do I be?
May it simply be,
That I’m just me?

Who do I be?
Who should I be?
Is it always a matter,
Of what I make me?

Why can’t I just be?
What can’t I just be me?
What does everything,
Rely on what to be?

I somehow seem unable,
To be any ounce of free,
With requirements to be,
Everything but me.

Marching up the hill with his fellow troops,
His insides are ready to burst with anticipation.
Growling and bubbling, his stomach seems to sound off as his hands quiver holding his rifle.
The soldier cannot turn back, as he must fight for his freedom against evil,
Though the art of having a choice has been long forgotten.

This soldier knows not of his fate.
He's petrified of what is to come,
Whether he survives or not.
If he dies,
He dies with honor,
yet he's not afraid of dying.
He's afraid of being forgotten.
If he survives,
He survives with honor,
Not expecting of a soul to recognize the sacrifice he has made for his own,
And failing to discover it as he lives on.

His beliefs are meaningless,
His pride is no longer relevant.
What requires quality is the strength to fight,
To fear no man aiming to take away his freedom,
And his life.

Facing what can be assumed as evil,
Yet never needing to know what true evil is really like.
The soldier has seen evil,
Evil awaits again willingly.
But he is not afraid.

Have you ever felt,
The things that I have felt,
Repetition at its finest,
Cycles viciously spinning,
And fires that refuse to go out?

The annoyance of consistency,
Always needing more
                            more,
                           And more,
Until my brain just resists,
The resistance of greed,
But greed is just a substitute for emptiness,
Holes that have been formed inside me,
Craving the very sweetness of joy.

I'm caught on a hook,
A hook of fishermen named desires,
I ache for variety and change,
But the only change is my ability,
To sustain in complexity.

Is it ungrateful to be this way,
Kissing the realism goodbye,
As it drives me to madness,
Leaving me in a state of blue,
And uncertainty?

Independence is what I propose,
But adolescence limits the opportunities,
That have been given to me as a test,
A test of which I continue to fail,
Since I am afraid of responsibility.

Genius talents,
Gifted from god,
I hold him liable of my fate,
Yet since I need this vicious cycle to end,
I must try to take it into my own hands,

Even if I am,
Afraid of the change,
As much as I wish for it.

A primary source of pain is the truth,
though the truth shall set you free.
An addiction beyond recognition,
there is something dark deep inside me.

Inanimate white evil,
has stolen he who is I.
My soul needs cleansing,
Am I close to where I die?

With knowledge comes wisdom,
and wisdom is beneficial.
But knowledge of this darkness,
The last thing I am is superficial.

Reality is no longer near,
As my sinuses fail to clear.
The darkness was formed by choice,
And to die is what I fear.

As the lights rapidly flicker,
While my mind starts to shut down.
Like a married couple who bickers,
There is no peace,
In my own blood I will drown.

The light calmly dims,
The rhythm of the monitor straightens,
And a continuous beeping noise trims,
The sound of silence in the room.

In the name of the father, the son and the holy ghost,
Whoever snorted the fastest got the most.
But was it an escape from reality?
Or reality escaping from me,
I am now forever gone,
But the darkness will linger over my family.

How exquisite it is,
Awaking day to day,
With many bills to pay,
Not a second to lay,
And many passersby,
Come and go my way.

What happened to Spring?
The cold, Winter chill,
Bothersome and bold,
Prolonging sunshine in May,
And a hopeful bloom of flowers,
Early on a Summer’s day.

No longer do I have the eye,
The once vibrant palette,
Has faded to shades of gray,
That vision of what could be,
Has drifted towards the wild cards that I play,
Merry and chipper, not ever,
Not today.

What keeps me at bay,
As my passion for trying becomes fray,
Is the internal defeat from external way,
Way of the ****** that seems to slay,
Every bit of purity in my heart that lay,
Formulating a misery that is here to stay.

All I aim for is to sleep,
That fine sleep on that lonely, inevitable day,
Existing and not existing, I’m sorry to say,
Is the only relief I feel as I hope and pray,
For God to bring me peace,
After a lifetime of disarray.

Mind molded like a block of clay,
Clay that never hardens,
Only my heart hardens like clay,
Youthful spirit and innocently gay,
Is a treasured philosophy,
I strive to regain some day.

The size of the world, on my shoulders that weigh,
Far from purpose and fulfillment I seem to stray,
Happiness is chosen, but not encouraged by they,
He or she of whom that continue to outlay,
My fragile, decaying soul,
I’m not okay.

I really don’t,
Not an ounce,
Not anymore,
Not evermore,
I don’t care.

I don’t care that I’m short,
I don’t care that I’m stout,
I don’t care that I’m poor,
I don’t care much about.

What’s to care for?
Who’s to care for?
We’re carless little bees,
Buzzing away at the lost honey,
When someone is spraying our hive.

Ask me if I give a ****,
Ask me if it is true,
You’ll come to learn and realize,
That even this poem doesn’t rhyme,
And I don’t care.

I search my soul, it's so dark and bold,
Carelessly shunning, those who seek entrance,
I listen but never learn,
I see but not think,
Forever I shall be branded,
One who quits when a situation sours,
And spoils like expired milk.

First I start off with one jab to my own jaw,
Then I kick myself in the nuts however that is possible,
I'll rip and tear my hair out,
Rubbing soap in my eyes to add to the fun.

I twist my ******* until they are good and purple,
Getting a running start so I can jump through a door head first.
I dropkick a wooden slab with nails pointing out of it.

I'll take an razor and rapidly shave my face with no cream,
Then pouring vinegar onto the cuts,
I'll dunk my head into the toilet and pull the handle,
In order to conduct a self swirly.

I open my tackle box for fishing,
And find countless giant hooks for bass,
Sticking one through my cheek,
Then I'll flop around on the ground covered in thumb tacks.

Hydrofluoric acid baths are so heavenly,
Kissing a piranha on the mouth,
He naws on my lips as I slam my body into a mirror,
What happens next, is what I love the most.

I'll lay three boxes of legos on the ground,
Nice and flat they hold with anticipation,
I'll jump on them so gracefully,
River dancing while I stick a stun gun up my ***.

Mixing *****,
Bleach,
And Frank's hot sauce in a bucket,
I dip my feet in them after my lego dance.
The pain is so wonderfully jolting through my body,
As I jump into a pool with toasters and microwaves plugged into a power strip.

I wanna tickle the *** of a horse with a feather,
So it kicks me straight in the throat,
Then have the New York Giants run across my body In their cleats to the field,
After the game, they wipe the dirt off their cleats on my face.

I'd like to look down the barrel of a Red Ryder,
Then pull the trigger as the BB bounces off of my pupil,
I'll wash my eye out with nail polish remover,
Following that,
I'll drive a car down a hill with no breaks.

I want Freddy Kruger to play with my hair,
While Edward Scissorhands massages my back,
I'll kiss medusa with ******,
And have her snakes nibble on my ears.

I'll take a double headed cobra and floss my **** cheeks with it,
I'll tongue punch the **** box of Honey Booboo's mom,
I'll stick my head in a bee hive,
And run on a treadmill shaking it,
Until each bee stings my entire face.

I'll pull my own teeth out with pliers,
And have the same act done for my finger nails,
Rubbing my hands together covered in mineral ice,

Spray painting a target on the ground,
I'll set a ten foot ladder up next to it,
Climbing to the top of said ladder,
I jump off head first,
Landing straight on the bulls eye.

I'll swim right into a hurricane,
After I ate an entire steak dinner,
An earthquake causing the hurricane to become a tsunami,
I ride the tsunami straight into a building, where the building collapses onto my back.

I'll line up salt like *******,
And roll a dollar up snorting it continuously,
I'll take a razor blade and cut the lines off of my fingerprints and hands,
Then play the guitar like Eric Clapton.

I'd tie a rope to my genitals, then set up a stool to a ceiling fan,
Where the other end of the rope would be,
And kick the stool,
Leaving me hanging by my ******* and ***** from the ceiling.

I would do any of these sadistic,
horrific,
agonizing,
painful,
evil,
Atrocious things to myself,
Before I'd ever take you back again.

The things that you seek,
The things that you feel,
What makes you feel like you,
Would never be what will heel.

He might flatter you,
He might make you feel pretty,
But will he be there most of all,
When you’re feeling down and ******?

I did it all,
I did it true,
What the ****,
Is wrong with you?

When that spark burns out,
When that new guy retreats,
You’ll have nothing and no one,
You especially won’t have me.

The pearly gates seem foreign,
A daydream away from today,
He talked about Hades like Sin,
But what he neglected to mention,
Is that Hell is from within.

A dystopian travesty,
Civilizations amuck,
We fight,
We ****,
In pursuit of happiness,
Whatever that is.

Fruits of my existence causes a sensation to ratify my soulful being.
A feeling so warm and so deluxe that I fail to contain it in entirety.
While I may misunderstand aspects of this mystery I continue to ponder,
I do entertain keeping faith.

A great deal of gratefulness for love and lust as it pumps gracefully through my heart,
Leaving me incapable of discovering a detainer of joy.
She's known to have many flaws,
But I mustn't exceed an investigation of what they are to be.

Life, she's such a beauty.
A beauty no man should take for granted.
For I am a man she treats with royalty and favoritism.
I do not dare question why it is me,
That she adores so dearly.

Flowers bloom in April,
A month of my debut on Earth.
I'm blessed by god and the angels above,
With a lack of remorse and fear.

I'll shamelessly thank whomever is responsible,
For this happiness I've been gifted this year.
No being should challenge the strength of her power,
It is I who can appreciate the loveliness about her,
And will forever hold a smile when she stumbles across me.

The modern poem,
Is a minute, edgy,
Motivating, philosophical phrase,
About how you should change,
Your belief system,
On love,
In the format of a poem.

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall,
How I’d wish to love them all.
An angel for a night to sleep,
A passion for my heart to keep.

Fluids drip drop down her spine,
How lucky I am to call her mine,
Whomever her may seem to be,
Resulted from my fantasy.

Its lonesome here in darkest night,
I’d love to come…
And take a bite,
Of forbidden fruit as sweet as lore,
Tasting lips and basting more.

It’s hot and heavy in this bed,
I’m solo here with marvel dread.
Reflecting on my loveless life,
I crave the scents of a luscious wife.

Psychedelic dreams,
Images that flash rapidly,
           Tap
           Tap
           Tap
Like a 16 millimeter camera.

I have the sound of ringing in my ears,
Her eyes are endearing,
Her Lips are motioning,
But no sound can be detected.

I'm somewhere not near my current location,
A place of my own,
Created by preferences pertaining to me,
I laugh instead of cry,
I feel instead of hurt,
I dream instead of sleep.

A place of my own,
No man should require skill,
As it is my own mind that does the accepting,
the judging,
    the dreaming,
          the creating,
A harsh reality creates the ideal fantasy,
The question being if the fantasy can become a reality,
Not by the grace of god but by the grace of my own,
To have and to hold,
A place of my own.

The third eye,
Is a bird’s eye,
View on a hurt guy,
Within a dirt life.

Since first flight,
Cut with a big knife,
By Dad and his wife,
Who gave me life.

What hurt Dad?
Who hurt Dad’s wife?
So much strife,
In this foul scented life.

Bitterness so rife,
In these brown eyes,
Since all that I,
Know is to,
Trust that third eye.

I had seen a woman that I once knew.
She shattered my heart,
Leaving me cold and blue.
Although it was yesterday since I last cried,
It has been a decade since she had died.

Sanity abandoned my life,
The minute I asked her to be my wife.
Once she fell for a new man,
I then became her biggest fan.

Photography became a hobby of mine.
Oh how her eyes were beautiful when they shined,
In the lenses of my polaroid.
It was my heart she viciously destroyed.

Her lips pressed passionately on her new love's,
As if they were two white Turtle Doves.
He pulled her clothes off,
One by one.
In my car I sat,
Loading my gun.

The smell of fear was loud,
In the atmosphere gliding in a crowd,
Of particles kissing spatters of blood.
Her screams could wake the neighborhood.

On this day I weep in pain,
As I recall an abundance of blood to drain.
Though being reminded is not hard,
Her apparition is not far.

In cold sweats I awake at night.
My sanity tender as it builds a fright.
This is no hallucination,
She's here with me,
Causing fear to flow through my still body.

Creeping towards my king sized bed,
Her eyes shined bright blood red.
She opens her mouth so bold and wide,
To remind me that I am why she died.

Sarah Castle, please be kind.
Your beauty is rare.
It can cure the blind.
But how sinister you seem tonight,
I don't appreciate this uncomfortable fright.

Screaming loud,
So ominously and cold.
Your smell is like the smell of mold,
Yet beauty is still a quality.

Horrific and beautiful.
Deadly and lovely,
I remember you just as one.
Now you come to visit me,
Holding my loaded gun.

The laughter you create,
As I cry and sway about.
I have soiled my underpants,
As you hover and shout.

******! ******!
You so boldly scream at me,
I apologize for my actions,
You will always be my lovely.

Farewell sweet Sarah.
I'll see you in my dreams.
Just please do me a kindness,
And cease those horrifying screams.

You roar while we weep,
We pray while you command,
A fickle bond,
A finicky repair,
To relations linked with blood.

A poison aiming to please,
When pleasing is what it does not,
It masks the weakness within,
Shying away from required antidote,
An antigen of pain and suffering.

I'll dance with this devil,
For I am the fruit of this darkness' *****,
I pray that you tragically vanish,
Yet still seek your guidance and nurturing.

A sheep in wolf's clothing,
With a demonic entity piloting your soul,
I tests the waters that are diluted with magma,
Ultimately annihilating any inkling of innocence I may still possess.

Bruising internally,
While external wounds begin to heal,
I suffer anxiety residing in this domicile,
A domesticated demon we've no longer entertained to tame.

Just a few more moons to go,
If few represented light years,
I hope and wait for the day to come,
Where you're a vision in my rearview mirror,
Only praying you won't distract me from the road ahead.

Snarly and ferocious, this dreadful child has been gifted to me.
At age 3, I was cursed with a responsibility to protect and mentor this devilish girl.
Fourteen years of pure evil and malignancy drives my mind to a state in which no man should ever have to feel.

My heart shrieks with vengeance as she so deliberately tries to inflict pain on it.
My conscience refrains me from doing the harm she does to me,
Reminding me that I am the bigger person.

Little girl, you devious and vicious soul,
I've dreaded the very day I first glanced upon your face.
As your ruthlessness and your carelessness towards other people causes heartache,
When words fly out of your mouth.

You sadistic young twit,
I must correct you for your behavior.
But I hold no authority to do so,
Yet I have been branded your guardian ever since the devil himself has spawned you.

I listen and feel for your struggles, I do.
So I must question why you don't respect mine?
Is life all about you, little girl?
Or is it you just find joy in driving me to insanity?

No longer will I entertain these loathsome conflicts,
As you are my unchosen inferior.
I will fight the urge to play your game,
And find the humor in your desire to leave me discouraged.

Little girl, you silly child.
One day you will be mournful,
When the time comes where I will not be present,
And you will nevermore have me to fulfill your barbarous needs.

What do people see,
What do people see,
When they see me,
What do they see?

Am I absolutely,
Positively,
Worthy,
Of glory?
Am I smart,
Bright,
Sweet,
And funny?

Am I big,
Round,
Short,
Or tall?
Do I push them away,
Or attract them all?

Do I make them smile,
Or appear to be small?
Do they even notice me,
Just a small amount at all?

Week days come,
Weekends go,
I’ll never be as perfect as I hoped so,
‘Cuz I assume they see greed,
When looking at me,
When all they see,
Is what’s outside of me.

Fire trucking,
Sock ducking,
**** *******,
Mother *******,
Chicken clucking,
**** tucking,
**** ******,
Cake.

Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

No, I’m pretty sure Violets are violet.

That poem is a lie.

Just like my love for you.

How beautiful the moon is tonight.
So gracious and so pure.
I'm fortunate to have the privilege of accompanying you this evening,
Since I am in fact,
An insomniac.

Life has a funny way of making unconventional things turn gorgeous,
In the split second of a blink.
My heart holds gratefulness to you, Ms. Moon,
For adding charm to my hellish night.

You change a lot like a person,
Your appearances can very well vary,
But the object of your being is simply to shine light on the darkness,
Now my darkness has been lit up like a Christmas tree.
All because of your elegancy.

You're great company for me, Ms. Moon,
As you hold no judgment to my livelihood.
I do not choose to be woken by such an illness created from genetics,
Thankfully I have you as a companion,
A companion to share my struggles with,
On a night you so beautifully made shine.

As the shackles tighten,
My heart begins to contract,
Solitarily confined in such dreadful darkness,
I anticipate mortality as it slowly maneuvers itself to me,
Battling such evil created within,
I hold myself prisoner to my own uncontrolled psyche.

This misery has no escape route,
The light dances around me,
Forever I'll be strained by worn out emotions,
Chained to despondency until my heart stops the beat,
As these shackles reach maximum strength,
Leaving my hands held captive to my own misgivings.

Continuous peeps from a bird landed on my windowsill,
Music fluently sounding through the beak of this winged creature.
Oh how noisy true beauty can be,
Leaving the world to withhold more elegance than Mother Nature intended.
An amendment I possess to bare arms as I wish,
I cocked my twelve gauge and blew it the **** away because I want to sleep in on Saturday and the bird kept waking me up.

Shall we dance together under this enchanting starlit sky?
Let us press up closely and sway to and fro,
Let my eyes glisten so deliberately,
As I daze at the sensation you give me by simply existing.

A dazzling penguin I appear,
While my peers sport identical attire,
Your glow is as bold as the smile on my face,
Every second I spend dancing with you.

How charming my humor may be,
Awkwardly shunning those who are near,
Your shoulders look like golden biscuits,
I crave the taste of them,
As they sit so shiningly in sight.

May I take out your hair clip,
Once we arrive at home from this soiree?
Would it be possible to admire your almond locks flowing,
So rivetingly down to your *******?

Would you let me unbutton your corset,
Kissing every inch of your spine from head to toe?
Can I wrap my arms around your belly,
Conjoining our bodies together like two molds of clay,
To form one marvel of modern art?

Life with you is as elegant as this moment,
Our laughs are like a melody of Mozart,
Our *** is like a jazz suite band,
Smooth and soulful,
When intimacy inspires the art of lust.

A soiree it is,
Having every moment spent with you,
I'm intoxicated on tranquility,
Knowing every second is where I'll find you.

Blood dripping from my bathroom faucet,
Shaking from ominous waves of insanity,
Petrified by horrific sounds of screams,
Only to realize that they are my own.

Puddles of red at my bare feet,
Leading a trail of it to my bathtub.
Expecting a corpse unknown to my eye,
But all I see is myself lying still.
My eyes and mouth are as wide as the wounds to my throat,
My heart is clearly visible,
Coincidentally on my sleeve.

A manifestation of evil appearing as a human,
A demonic entity it turns out to be.
Teeth as sharp as impaling spikes,
With serrated flesh dripping blood from it's gums.
The sense of determination can be shown through it's shaded eyes,
An act aimed for evil is in motion.

Wind zooming through the atmosphere outside,
As rain falls down from above.
Lightening strikes the tree adjacent to my bathroom window,
The demonic entity has disappeared.

My strength to hold this bravery I cannot seem to discover has weakened,
Rain drops ****** as the sliced flesh of my wrists,
Standing in confusion, my fear begins to escalate.
I am dying,
But I have the most life I could ever encounter flowing inside of me,
Projected as fear.

Fear is the distant cousin of shame,
But facing evil there is no shame.
For I am lost in a world of death,
All I can see is fog before my eyes.
The devil has risen,
Risen from inside of me.

Canines lacking the emotion of being timid,
They can feast on the rodents at my toes.
This bathroom is what I consider as hell,
But purgatory it seems to be,
Foreshadowing my everlasting throne in an area surrounded by flames.

Death seems inferior to what I'm about to experience,
As ****** could be exhilarating once more before I become a prisoner of my own psyche,
The devil himself has claimed.

Waking up in cold sweats of heat,
I struggle to catch myself, failing to catch my breath.
I've lost the ability to wonder,
As this nightmare slowly fades away

Nice Guys,
they finish Last.
They make it by,
the skin of their ***.
The woman don’t,
appreciate class.
They expect ‘em all,
to have ***** of brass.

Body language speaking in Shakespearian sonnet,
As I evolve from boy to man,
Hungers I battle to remain silent,
This mutual silence screams we are both in need.

Bogarting my path to seduction,
Fueling my fantasies with possibility,
I pray to god my morals vanish,
In the end it remains a dream.

A spitfire,
sophisticated and dazzling,
Motivating me to enjoy such tediousness,
I fall in love with the idea of fornication.

How can you see the light at the end of the tunnel,
When you're constantly driving at night,
How can a cloud have a silver lining,
When the entire cloud is black?

Working to get a required education,
To pay for an optional education,
In order to apply for a job,
That requires both sets of education.

Working our whole lives to receive one piece of paper,
To get accepted by an academy that requires said paper,
Just to earn another piece of paper,
In order to get a job and earn more paper...

Yet they care so much about saving trees.

The bright side,
A side blocked by a wall constructed of human consciousness,
A self awareness far too complex and cruel,
Cruelty eating our species alive as we breathe.

Grass greener on one side,
But my side is dried up like jerky,
I roll it up and smoke it to gain a moment of clarity,
Nicotine rushes to my head,
Slowly killing me in sync with the daily tasks life requires.

God shows favoritism over those who show no effort,
And punishes those who abide by his laws,
Laws in which disbelievers defecate on,
And still he gives them gold stars.

A lack of significance happiness has with me,
It fails to correlate with responsibilities driven by such a fantasy,
When all there is the end of this bumpy road,
Is a cliff.

A clinch of ten fingers onto a lonely bed sheet,
Circulation begins to ****** drastically,
A hooded figure suspended over me,
I'm exhausted,
Foam at my mouth begins to secrete.

Should've known or at least taken a thought,
Making no attempts to cleanse my poisoned mind,
This abused heart can't stand much more,
A state like this I've never been before.

Judging by my loss of gratitude,
The chickens have come home to roost,
What some may call karma,
I call a blessing,
A lifetime of dreading the one form of peace,
I'll ever encounter in my time.

All I'm seeing now is black,
And they won't turn back the clocks,
No matter how much I beg and plead,
They're just letting me die alone in my socks.

Fixated on the idea of stillness,
While my existence ceases to stand still.
Four past a dozen years of sanity,
but insanity becomes my will.
Is it faith that lyes within?
Or is it time to turn out the light?

Impervious to fulfillment,
Emulating a personality I could only dream of.
The mask became too tight,
and the match eventually burnt out.

Uncontrollable perturbation seemed,
Like a pit that had no bottom.
With emotional *******,
letting it escape was difficult.

Fear of judgement,
that comes from the outsider's force.
Smiling at the frowns inside,
denial took its course.
With a heart of gold,
and pride the size of the earth.
This name of mine should live on,
but had already been a memory at birth.

The final sleep could be near,
but the awakening could be so.
It could very well interfere.
Yet it is very well doubtful,
Through my eyes though.

Ashamed of what might come,
if my emotions pilot my soul.
This aircraft is running out of fuel,
and my fear to move on has dilated.

These roots are growing rapidly,
like a **** in the season of the sun.
My emotions are exploding,
Like a bullet escaping a gun.

God forgive this sinner,
Who sins for the worthy of life,
These words are cutting deep,
Deep through me like a knife.
A child at heart,
With a wise tale to tell.
My world is spinning rapidly,
My head is clanging like a bell.

A moral man in a corrupt world,
I portray a shakespearian player.
Soliloquies in character,
But this character is myself,
Myself is he,
The player.

In the final fall of the curtain,
I soon am ready to bow,
The crowed is loudly silent,
it is time to say goodbye now.

Emotional Cancer

Depression is like cancer,
Once you've got it,
It will most likely **** you,
And leave your loved ones wondering "why".

The amazing similarities,
They are both rapid,
They tear up lives,
And there is no true cure.

Treatment, yes,
But both ending in mortality,
There is no true cure,
There is no true cure.

Starting with a sudden thought,
Which then leads to rapid negative emotions.
The heart beats as fast as a jackhammer,
my right leg mimics the motion.

A tight and sharp sensation is felt in my lungs,
With hyperventilation to follow.
My mind races like a stallion.
The feeling of anxiety is at play.

Am I going to die?
Will I experience the worst imaginable?
Is my nausea leading to a sea of bile on the floor?
Here comes my loss of balance.

As my hands start to shake,
My legs continuing to tap,
I pray for the lord to give me a break.
I fail to sleep.
I refuse to take a nap.

The subconscious is strong.
Too strong to bare.
The flesh is weak.
Weak as the mind it protects.

A little pill to sedate the patient,
A pill that's small and yellow.
With my antispasmodics adjacent,
These pills aim to mellow,
The one ailment causing these symptoms.

Anxiety.
Such a fancy word.
A synonym for evil.
They say everybody has anxiety.
But do they understand fully on what happens inside of me?

I will forever be cursed,
With mental instability.
As my mind so ominously bursts,
My thoughts hold me victim to infidelity.

Give me a sign you understand,
Pleasure my psyche with   confirmation,
Twist and turn my moral brain,
Until it is worn to a bucket of mash.

This awkward bio examination you speak of,
Has it always been so complex?
My finicky brain seeks the resolution,
A solution to this core that is common.

How is it that man can be man,
If man evolves to entities beyond,
We are our own experiments of modern science,
Constantly analyzing data we have yet to comprehend.

A technician fails foolishly,
As another earns their Nobel Prize,
We are chosen to fit such devious survival tactics,
Though in our hearts we look at the consequence.

A quizzical I carelessly push aside,
Finding it easier to risk the perks,
A self made genius consistently preaching,
Superiority over those who are victims of doubt.

To have a mind like he,
Is devilish as much as it is holy,
We find vices that motivate illusions,
Created by those who are lost in time.

Figuring the start of a new,
As a new so boisterously grows old,
An aging sweet wine with sour grapes,
Contained in a waterlogged barrel that never ceases to replace.

Change

A dwarf sucker of psychological algae,
Paces that demolish a certainty,
Finishing when beginnings have begun,
Comfort ceases to remain a distance.

Peeling an onion that causes me to weep,
A fumigation of sudden nostalgia,
An anorexic of confidence,
Enormity of grief and doubt.

Breakneck motion of existence,
Reasonably unreasonable from fantasy,
Irrelevance drives stability to destruction,
Relevance articulates turmoil.

Never have I ever,
Felt so free from loss and grief,
I dignify this endeavor,
I'm so far beyond relief.

A wind that carries me away,
From emotional *******,
I can't quite find words to say,
How I've grown from exaggeration.

Growing old is a form of art,
A marvel crafted from that we evolve,
I grasp onto this change as I depart,
A new problem I have yet to solve.

Extraterrestrial feelings spark wisdom,
An epiphany driving an Eldorado,
Leaving me vulnerable to aphorism,
In a mirror I sport a healthy bravado.

Waking up from nightmares,
Crafted by the hands of me and I,
Myself is who is left behind,
A new man who lacks the ability to care.

Wasted energy beyond the perception of gloom,
I carry a large burden upon my shoulders, like a boulder waiting for my spine to collapse,
Though now I seem as if I am without a spine.
I am weakened by the very inkling of depression inside of me,
Yet I cannot seem to cry.

Crying is your mind's way of telling you that you're human.
But I cannot decipher the idea of me grasping any humanized traits,
Since I let my emotions eat away at my own self-empathy.
I lay down in silence,
My insides screaming in pain.

I suppress these urges I get just aching to drive me to madness,
When it is my own person that has to deal with the stress.
I find myself dreaming of dreams that cannot be reached.
I am nearly an adult,
And all I feel like is a naive child,
twiddling his thumbs in his own little world.

I pray that I discover a way that I can feel joyous,
With people that share interests in similarity.
I am a young man with rare characteristics,
Finding such a person would be strenuous.

Uncanny it is for me to speak words like so,
It boggles my mind to uncertainty.
I've cried a lot through my hand,
Not my eyes,
And my poor pencil has grown exhausted from my depression.

She'll kiss a word, covered in blood,
She'll dignify mediocrities aloud,
She gives me motive to blossom,
Into an entity I've long despised.

She isn't much of a salesman,
Though salesmanship is her passion,
Nearly driving herself to oblivion,
I sedate her with words that are preprogrammed.

Like a *** of water and salt,
A patch of Leather and with a yarned lace,
A cup of oil and a splash of vinegar,
We go together as if it's a curse.

To make sense of it would be senseless,
Since senselessness is it's meaning,
A shadow covering a timid silhouette,
It's passion for construction that seems most logical.