We are galaxies
each of us have the stars
within ourselves but you
you're different
the stars are just in your eyes
the vast nothingness
is in your mind and soul
what happened to you?
what God-awful thing could've happened
to someone like you?
I've always thought of you as the sun
and I'm just a forgotten planet
revolving around you
never even tried to get near
because I'm afraid to be burnt.

Today I will make something greater than before
Today I will be better than the person I was yesterday

Today I will try see past my deficiencies and focus on my work
Today I will learn from my past mistakes and try to better myself
Today I will accept the failure of my own self expectations
Today I will ignore the criticisms placed unfairly upon me

Today I will begin to focus on my work
Today will be like every other day
Today I will realise the future

There's a boy near a highway
He claims to be queer
He's selling his soul for the food he needs dear
There's a frame with no windows
Filled with his peers
They light up their glass pipes to feed their own fears
There's a mother with babies
Whose diapers are smeared
They catch hell for crying
She slaps off their tears
There's an old man who's downtown
He brown-bags his beer
There's a rich girl
She's wasted
Never dreamed she'd be here
There's a fat *****
She's worthless
Just selling disease
Tear down these old crack-towns
Don't need more of these

perhaps it is the weather
a prolonged absence of the sun
or presence of the winter cold
or just a temporary fashion

the media as well as many webbéd sites
simply abound with dreary blather
     of lovers lost and death so cold
     the lonesomeness of every single soul
     and how s/he suffers when s/he writes
spelled out at length with no discretion

we know that people suffer from depression
or unquenchable anger at the world
and how through proper treatments
you can considerably relieve the pain

fix them in words is one of them
    but may not be enough
sometimes a mix of pills and pen
may do the trick and help you
    write yourself through your misty prison walls
    discover unlocked doors hidden in plain sight
    step out into the sunshine
        from the darkest night

you are the sun
    whose radiance illuminates the world
    lends brilliance to your life
    sheds light on everything you’ve done

and soon you’ll notice
even the weather is getting bether …

You broke my little heart, yes,
But like a spoon cracking open crème brûlée
You exposed something beautiful

Get up and grind through time the mind
in and out intwine
the mind ablaze a puff of rays a smoke
I praise Omega, go ahead and poke

Broke, "loc" but just for today, NOT for Alpha
Has guided my ways, these days our family still
Finds a way so we grind till the dollar bills turns to rays.

Vaporized by emotion, commotion
Vaporized by the endless need to consume.

To regrow too, to leave our imprint so they know once we were here, can they hear?

Thoughts in the grind, a trance that it sears like fire and the infernos that touch as I move for the currency harden my skin and thy emotion 'till dreams path cleanse again and I know I awake to God here again.

Guiding my ways so I fear not destruction, cause in fires defeat I learn something, those ways that are shown take me there then taking me home where I learn from my Lord, Omega marching to Heavens door oh' how I adore the days again I praise thy Lord

knows my ways, my ****** BLASPHEMIES ways. Again I march as I pray, take me where I need to be in fires or in ice, freeze, in space where a black hole tarnishes my face, now my mind bleeds and recedes

back to you, Omega I know one day there will be proof, but will that be enough for some minding their truths.

Conquering the dollar.
Conquering the land.

There is truth being brought by you so take my hand.

As I grind through time the, endless march till destruction, picking up my loot as I go praising my Lord in my consumption.

do i want to lie flat in your prison cells? perhaps not.
but i do know that the curse of our words is that
they will one day swap out our air for oxygen,
and we will breathe ink down our throats; gasping
for sound.

it is inevitable. these vestiges of mind matchless to those
who give chase - we who disappear like ghosts - one day
to resurface - our bodies in exchange. we will be beaten
by batons, cut open by silver: a cuff for a tongue. we perish
for our

                      speech.

He never kisses me hello or goodbye.
He never tells me I'm beaufield of that he loves me.

He does;
pour my wine, open my medicine, and gets me a glass of water at 4am.
He knows how I like my sandwiches cut and he learns to play my favorite songs.

Is that love?

Or is it the least he can do?