Is there such thing as the greatest or are you just the latest?
DNA mixed with chromosomes, little bit of greatness,
Do you have to do it first, or do it better than the first person?
Life is not a game but the experience is in first person,
And the way you could hurt me is zero to none, but in the ways of many,
Hope the number of days I have left is not to shy of many, but I wonder the most all is at what’s the center,
Will you consider this a poem because I press enter? Just a thought, which is a splinter, leading to another moment, hindered, and it hurts like a wound cut open on a subzero winter day,
Blah blah blah, ****, I’m stuck, what should I say......
Looking in the dictionary where words are legislated, a place where black and white has never been so creative, and then I get creative, the piece of paper is landscape waiting for a God to come create it, so I ask God to make my words almighty, Speak it and none shall debate it,
"But watch out for the snakes Ben, anacondas of the drama, please think of relocating, as darkness unfolds, and I know you think I created it and maybe I did but  I...I...I. Forbid",
God Forbids,
I’m stuck again,  wanting to be great, wanting to be the best, wanting to be next, less stressed and Noticed, never did they say that life was no test,  and I hope I never fail again,
Because next time the gun won’t jam again, tried to play almighty and he laugh and said never try to play again, here’s another chance benny man, I hope you plan to win
Thought of death brings fear enough, but when you want to do it yourself, it never re-appears enough; **** right I’m tearing up, only for a moment my chest is clearing up, but when I go to bed at night I think ****, I’m giving up,
I live with what could have been, and now it haunts me, they say the fear keeps you alive but what’s the phrase for when you don’t want to be?
I’m done thinking now, of course of I’m lying,  because if I ever stop thinking of random of stuff, of course I’m dying,
I may never be the greatest, but you know I’m trying, resolutions for the pollution from the voices trying to **** Zion.

fingertips
against my lips
hands on hips
on my back
marks from your steady hands
feel like whips
you hit me because you think i deserve it
blood on carpets and first aid kits
you touching my skin feels like touching a pan without oven mits
cold arms and legs
cold nose
cold wrists
frost bite kiss
listening to music at 4:01
thinkng of your texts
jealousy
fits of rage
do you ever just let go
no reason
to
live
shallow breaths
whats happening
am i dreaming

not neath cerulean skies,but sinking
drowning in the thoughts im thinkng
here again the lonely night,
again the questions plague and plight
and when in honest answers come, i speak and after all i've done
look back and wish that i'd not spoke, for tears i've spilt and hearts i've broke
and passions flamed and suffocate
and enter in to no escape
but here i sit and ask i none,
the skie dark blue, not cerulean

yes.
God made me honest,
and I maintain it.
it is my soul.

they give me grimaces
and lots of smiles.
I do *** for tat.

once a boy cried,
thinkng he has grown drab.
I couldn't assuage him.
I am full of pangs.

I stand; I breathe in the air.
I never sleep.
I am for truth.
your negligence is my death.

Contentment has a different kind of sound
To everyone who has ever witnessed it.
It fills the heart and settles the mind
And baffles those who have dismissed it.
Those canting people that cackled at us
Scowling, “Give up, it’ll never work.”
We smiled and continued our courtship
Not thinkng them a bunch of jerks.

We carried on, celebrating our successes
And learning from our many mistakes
And in time we began to see quite well
This is just what love and life takes.
We made our plans and changed them
When things didn’t go the right way.
And step by step, and inch by inch
We became who we are today.

Now we have sounds we make to each other
Less words, more loving noises we utter,
Salutations cobbled together over the years
Some remolded nicknames we often mutter
Glad we have walls around, roof above, and
Sounds made upon our leaving or returning,
And all is well here in our home of love
A message that the home fire is still burning.

A visitor might ask us, and have before
What did he say, or maybe, what did you?
I could explain the habits of our years
But no need. I heard and of course, I knew.
We often use the telescope of contentment
And look backward to where the sounds began
To watch them change through time and space
And become what they became over the span.

In recent effents. An undurled experience release a revelation that have reptured my previously durable ambitions.
A free thinkng fantasy. Was to have a voice that could move souls in the way some have noutured mine.
Alas on an ordinary unrepressed weekday I find myself ****** in a climactic judgement day for my previously displayed visions.
I found myself arounded by poetential assistants to finally lighting the spark that may lead to these fantasies to gainly a lively tone.
Musitions and I came together in a spontaneous gathering of the subjected topics being discussed and performed in a casual tone.
While the turn strummed their beat up six strings i merely nodded my head and let the music claim my conciousness. A farmiliar and personally well admired tune began playing. One of the gentlemen asked if I know the lyrical content of the contempory composition. After I informed him that I did the road of the dreamroad was about to split and i would make the pivitol turn through audition now. I was struck with overwhelming bashfulness and nervy contraction. It was time.
I took all the courage I had left. And rattled the shell of the cowardous creative chartacter who lives within me, and I sang. I sang as clearly and well as I possibly could. I gave a performance of my ambitious alter ego that even I had not seen.
After the song came to a close, andd my heaet returned to place from my throat. I recieved a nonchealaunt response to this desperately hopeful side. "You didn't like, sing in a choir or anything did you?" I answered him.... "no"..... The other judge drew back the curtains and the question was answered, and it was preceeded with a chuckle, and it wss all finished with a "we can tell."

4/26/21
Dear Mike,

Do you still love me? Because when you said you wouldn't have enough time for a relationship, and that it was unfair to me, I believed you. It was difficult as first, but I started to move on, and get better. I was happy and felt as if I could handle a relationship. But then I found out that you had a new girlfriend. And it broke me. I was upset, confused, and sad. I didn't understand how you could make time for her but not for me. I thought to myself, "Why am I not good enough? How and why is she better than me?" And then I found out that she wrote a book, and that hurt even more, because you know that I write.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize that the breakup was one-sided. You broke up with me, and I convinced myself that it was mutual. So now I'm sitting here thinkng, was she one of the reasons we broke up? Did you not want to be with me anymore? And Mike, did you ever try to reach out to me? Because I don't think you did. At least, it doesn't feel like you did. And what hurts even more is that I still love you. And if you asked me to be your girlfriend, I would say yes without any hesitation. I didn't get any closure, and so far, all it's done is hurt me. I still keep the polaroids in a box under my bed, along with everthing else that I wrote for/about you, and the matching anklet. Do you still wear yours? Or did you throw it away when you started dating her? Do you still keep out the painting that I made for you? Do you wish deep down that you still had a picture of us together?

Or do you regret dating me? Do you regret loving me? When did you move on? Was it easy? Or did you cry yourself to sleep most nights? Is she a rebound, or do you really love her? Did you talk about your future together like you did with me? What about the wedding, or baby names, or where you two would live? Did you talk about college with her, and how you would stick together through it all? Because I know that we talked about all of those things. I remember all of those conversations. I remember when I got a panic attack and we went on a walk in the middle of the night and played with lego figurines and ate goldfish and slept on your trampoline. I remember when I would start crying and you would just hold me. I remember how deeply in love we were. Do you?

I'm thinking about publishing my poetry, by the way.

Love, Em

yes.
God made me honest,
and I maintain it.
it is my soul.

they give me grimaces
and lots of smiles.
I do *** for tat.

once a boy cried,
thinkng he has grown drab.
I couldn't assuage him.
I am full of pangs.

I stand; I breathe in the air.
I never sleep.
I am for truth.
your negligence is my death.