One window
one door
but no where to go
Seems I can't run from the thought of him
I can't hide from the happy memories
And I can't trick myself into believing
that this feeling has gone away

The road seems to flow like the ocean reflecting the midnight sky
Wind sways the limbs of an oak tree near by
Light from a street lamp casts there shadows down
They shift and sway and flow when no ones around
But shh...
Not many know
That at night, there's an ocean just up the road

I thought I was doing fine,
but it all just crashed over me.
I thought the mere idea of a possibility was far deceased in my mind, but optimism has never been my thing and now I know why.
I thought that because I understood, my heart would bleed a little less,
but now even my eyes bleed every now and then,
and my glass heart dangles on a very fine thread.
I thought my heart was finally listening,
but my mind told it some incredibly hurtful things.
My mind told my heart all about you and about that girl.
My mind described your smile while you stood proudly in a digital memory next to her.
My mind reminded my heart that I wanted her place and moving on ******* hurts.
And there was nothing else I could do,
I could only sit back and watch how you unknowingly knew you cut the fine thread holding my heart,
and feel as it broke down to pieces,
and there was no fire to put it back.
I was doing so fine.
******* it, I ******* thought I was doing fine.

Every morning, I robotically walk to the local coffee shop
The same old man sitting at table three,
Who wears his intelligence on his brow,
Searches through mountains of texts
On how to give his life sustenance

All the while, a somber young man scribbles
An intimate poetry session in his moleskin
His face always sadden by the prose
Heavy writing hand suggesting frustration

I only wish they both can break away
From their pages and notice today
that their commonalities could heal their sorrows
Heal one another through their humanity

But for now my latte awaits
I'll see you tomorrow gentlemen

God, I wanted to be a poet
Yet, we both know
That the only thing I have to do with poetry
is its declamation and ethereal breath of wind
I will be honest with you
I don’t understand your poems
Neither do I care about their meaning
Scraping of a trembling voice
Overwhelming noise
I am again all alone
out of tune chaos gone
Wipe my eyes while
I am losing myself
In glory of deep tones
In spasms and cracks of words
I feel so high
I feel so low
This is what you made me for

I want to be loved.
I want someone to take me
out of this dark world,
and put me into a new one.
I want a lover who will tell me I am OK,
and truly mean it.
I want someone who I can trust,
someone who I can love
without question,
without doubts,
without anger
without jealousy.
I often wonder
if I am worthy of love.
Everytime I thought I found it,'
it always ended up never working out.
People make it look easy.
"all you gotta do is
have ***,
make out,
and give gifts"
well, sorry but you are wrong.
I want the lust,
but I want it to be original.
I want someone to recognize me,
and lust for me
I often feel like I am ugly.
I wish someone would tell me I'm wrong,
that my weight does not define my worth.
I wish I could love someone who would love me for who I am.
Everything about me.
My faults,
my humor,
my everything.
Truth is,
I don't think theres anyone out there
that is truly meant for me.
And so what I'm a guy
does that mean anything?
I don't believe people like me,
that people would think I have value.
I can't remember
being complemented.  
But, I don't want to seem conceded.
I just hope there is someone somewhere,
that will love me,
and call me bae,
because they think I really am worth their love.
You think I will?
"There will be someone who will come along"
"There's always more fish and the sea"
and for what, to be called a man *****?
Really?
Come on.
You can't be serious!
I am a human being.
I have emotions.
I recognize beauty both outside and inside quickly,
but why can't anyone see that in me?
Makes me wonder,
what is wrong with me?
Why can't I be loved?
Why?
Why can't it never work out?
Why am I the one who everyone asks out because of a dare
tell. me. why.
"people are cruel"
I've heard it before.
I wish they would ask me for real,
love me for real.

math test in three hours
don't know math, but what a great
time for some haiku poetry