"Always put you're own needs first"
That's what you've always said
For if you attempt to help everyone
Too thin, you'll soon be spread

But I chose not to listen
Which is really nothing new
I wore my heart upon my sleeve
And into danger, I flew

Building other people up
Was always worth it in the end
No matter how many times they fell
My hand would always extend

But I started to feel that weight
Pulling me every-which-way
And with my own world crumbling around me
I soon fell into dismay.

I guess in some ways you were right
I should have made sure to care for me
So I tried to make that change in life
And listen to my own heart's plea

I took a little time alone
And focused on my own needs
But when I spoke of that choice to you
You disapproved of all those deeds.

You said my choices were selfish
And that my actions had all turned rude
Since I no longer blindly followed the plan
You and I began to feud

I was left completely baffled
For I had done just as you said
I took the time I needed
And did things to clear my head

And that is when I realized
What those words had really meant
It wasn't so much a piece of advice
But ideals you followed a hundred percent

"Always put your own needs first"
That is exactly what you did.
I wish I'd listened a little closer
To the truth you never hid

Because when it comes down to it
That's really what you believe
And now that I have finally seen the truth
I fear, I've no choice..but to leave

Detached. Re-rendered. Under-appreciated. Again.

She was a cold photograph, still life; subterfuge, undertow, parabola, meltdown.
Words. Nothing in common. But the picture is there.

I'm not sure where it's going.
Because we are lacking confidence.

This world has interested me for so long. Celebrities save citizens more than governments. Hilarious.

Ellen was a saint during Katrina. Bush was in a tree house, as our satirical representatives like to put it.

Peoples' actions are giving selfishness a bad name. We all forget that non-infringement is the first step towards equality. We must preserve such sacred rights.

But do we care? History is a short hour of stifled laughter and deals. Ironic.

Let's just lie down on the grass like we used to.
But how can we knowing what we know now?

What if we had tools to forget? To run away?

There they are in the sugar.

Half-way between the bowled catcher
My cradled bones soon to taste air
The cold of night numb me
And the hidden side once it is freed
As inside this carcass soon to be
Will all my soul take sudden leave
As forceps without a clamp
And hammer without its blunt
Strike my neck procedurally
To codify another thread

I roll my eyes lifeless before
The opening in the sky
Behind the blue reflecting sea
A mirror pocked by the white
Of clean and careless clarity
Sterile back-drop covered by primer
As soon the basket will be
Grass roots will taste copper today
And tails bear the thickened rubies

Ever changing questing bright
The footsteps dried like pen-marked words
Another order change my hold
Of how I retain my parts for naught
I see the periods repeat around my last
All to sign with blackest truth
To one who hold the quill above
Continue to weight down with ink

Clouds blow like the paper's did
When I was shackled to the ring
My back was bent by mallet-ends
And by the bridge of glasses scoured
Move slow or fast the end is same
I still will be in arms of wood
Soak by my predecessor's edicts

It shined with lacquered veneer distinct
A task mine to complete
Renew a thirsting stretch its slake
For revenge of how its purpose take
From off the leg not moving yet
It screams as I will to the skies

Single globe stare back at me
While all the rest take time to blink
And luminate reflection down
So I can shy and block the ground
You long-describing say I meet

Last wind carry your signal flare
As I take in the last greys of earth
Close-lidded shut out the cold
Preparing another set to crack

You never shift your watch from me
The spectacle all too enticing
How the colour dissipates to the air

You hold me in memory
As does the cradle's coating

Beneath the next tens countless sentance

Don't awaken me to my failures
for they're my most dependable friends.
They never forsake me;
my baneful lovers until the end.

They're the sun that blinds me as it hovers
and abandons me in the twilight.
Why is it that the sun will always go down on me
but you never will anymore?

This is my ode to severence
so severe that I will bleed out
if you extract yourself from my chest.
So sleep there and keep me arduously alive.

I've been to every surgeon of a lover that loves to cut,
and none of them can fix this breach in me.
So I stuff it with rambunctuous patterns and accessories.
I wanted you to be a ravishing accessory for me,
but you're only an accessory to my spirit's assassination.

The coronet of my history still carves a hole in my brain.
With this hole in my chest
and this hole in my brain,
I feel eternally chained to the pain.

It's as if you pierce me just to see if I still can feel.
I can tell you without proof that it's the only thing that's real.

So now my molten emotions have erupted;
evanescing everyone I know away.
I'm lava that not a soul can caress.
It's not a fun game anymore.
I don't want to play anymore.

Tired of feeling like I'm ******* deranged.
They used to cheer my name,
now they whisper it,
as if my maudlin disease is contagious.

I wish I was the hero of my own epic,
but I was drafted into a tragedy
patiently awaiting my somber ending
that seems to never want to visit me.

Decoding the love
which will not do us
apart, like death transcending
the history of man and beast.

The perspective
of history was changing. I
didn't want to be happy, with shifting
epicenter of pain of severence.
Let the river flow between the banks.

I was there, where
you did't reach. Becoming stupid
was the choice. My pen will
dig up your mind, when you were
hiding behind the unspoken vows.

Taking revenge was
no career. You will fall from
the heights of rosewindow.

The sculptor was ready,
to anoint a fallen angel.