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There's nothing I'd like more
Than to just be happy
I don't even know anymore
Confession: I have no idea how this whole challenge thing got started.
Whoever it is, I hope you like my contribution.
For your reference, I'm made of different things than when I first arrived.
Back then I was broken hearted,
writing retribution.
But just when I think I'm getting ready to move into the next chapter of my life,
The man I was before comes in and the recipe is ruined.

Ingredient the first is of course the man I was before.
I'll admit, he wasn't all that bright, and a bit of a know it all and a bore.
but according to every guide who helped him open newer doors,
"He has so much potential!" So let potential simmer for about a minute before you add in Life. But be honest for a second. Life's a cold, disdainful *****.

Ingredient number two was life, but it's far too large and full of emotion,
so grab your knife and cut a smaller portion,
mince, and mix it with a few one night stands.
Sprinkle in some daddy issues.
Add a dollop of fairy dust, and prepare to bring the tissues.
Next comes epilepsy, pill bottles to your eyeballs,
death, and loss, and missing parietals,
cheating, beatings, midnight meetings
with guys who will sell you memory loss for a few hundred bucks.
Caution: This recipe calls for zero *****.
Add them in at the risk of ruining the mix.
Let it simmer and boil with rage,
and eventually your mixture will break it's cage;
He'll run away, start over fresh somewhere, and lie about his life to all who ask,
then slowly, he'll open up to strangers over the internet, and bask
in the complements his poetry gets him.
Then he'll get a job like a real person,
and his cold dead heart will begin to tick,
like clockwork, which he'll be obsessed with,
and he'll start clocking people for money instead of kicks,
and be paid for it.
and get laid for it.
(because come on, why else do people become athletes? To get ripped.)
His life will, briefly, be a fairy tale,
and he'll believe for a moment that his old life has called it quits.
This is a crucial moment, don't **** up the recipe like I did
Because then...
if his old life finds him.
his runaway streak is over.
See, if it doesn't cook all the way through, food poisoning is in order,
and he is poisoned once again but that cruel *****, Life,
and his life becomes again a game of "Pick-up-sticks"
as his old life comes crashing back, and then, stage left, ENTER *****!
She finds him.
and before you know it too much Life was added to the mix,
he says "**** it" once again,
opens up for just a moment more,
***** up his rhymes, and moves out of his apartment,
packs his bags, says his goodbyes, and pays his rent,
then leaves to close more potential doors, lost and disillusioned.
Too much life came back too soon, before he was ready to be served.
Too much life was added in, and while you totally can say h'orderves
without saying "*****", life's a *****, so you add too much more,
and the recipe is ruined.
My life on a page. Bye guys. Time for me to disappear again for a while, and move on. It's been fun.

Addendum: Nevermind. :)
If I love you
It means you
Can break me
If I don't
I could miss
Out on
Someone and something
Amazing
You're so much more than just amazing, ***.

Falling in love is... a lot of things. (too many adjectives to even begin)
- - -
For a guy, he knows who he is.
- - -
I only write **** lately, I'm so sorry.
I don't care if they start rumors.
I don't care if they think it's a lie.
I don't care that we're not perfect.
I don't care about those other guys.
I don't care if we got haters,
And I don't care if they multiply.
There's only one thing I care about,
And that's you and I.
"And as long as we got each other,
We don't need anybody else on this earth..."
i miss your drunken
"i love you"s   please
just    c o m e    back
i'm     starting       t o
forget    what    your
hands feel l i k e  i'm
startingtoforgetwhat
your hands   feel like
London is farther away than
I can fathom at this point.
You talk as I attempt to listen.

The thick air between you and --
I divide my attention so badly;
Breathing lost voluntary importance.
Your voice is a song I haven't heard.

My pupils gaze on your rain drenched hair
Following every trickling bead's river.
My reflexes see to be more magnetic
Catching every vigorous downward drop.

Lost in the soaked contours of your collar;
Transcending to a moment as new strangers,
Revisiting my premonition of you above me,
Our bodies, together, can change worlds.

Within a matter of seconds,
We have traveled for days.

I remember to breathe and listen.
Flicked by one frantic finger
The sting still lingers
The tiny fleck of a red mark
Left its’ spark bruised his heart
How easily a child is hurt
And yet only seconds after tears had fell
He was back outside merrily playing with himself
But not actually playing with himself ;)
Who would have thought
two years made a difference?
Two years is not that long
in the grand scheme of things.
Two years ago, I didn't know
so much that I do today.
Two years ago, I wouldn't have
made some of the choices I did.
Two years ago, I could smile,
a genuine smile, with real emotion.

If I could go back to two years ago,
I would change what I did,
Warn myself that not everyone is good.
I used to believe that everyone was good
even if they were only good in some tiny way.
I know better now some people will never care
how much pain they cause.
Two years ago, I wish I'd known.
Early morning confusion
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