I never really cared for blue-eyed people.
Bright or pale;
A common color for the male or female.
But let my tell you a tale
Of a blued-eyed boy
Who never toyed with this green-eyed girl.
He put her head in a whirl.
Love is what they called it.

She'd look into those blue eyes;
The color she never cared for
But now she could never be bored
Of looking at these blue-eyed people,
Who were more abundant than she thought
Maybe they fought
For the same thing she was looking for;
The Love of a boy
Who wasn't the one to toy
With that green-eyed girl.

If jealousy is a green eyed monster,
Anxiety will be a blued eyed monster
With thorns that you do not take notice of
Until its too late and you are trapped in its suffocating embrace.
Save me, please.

Anxiety will rob you of your breath
She leaves you gasping for air when everyone can breathe just fine.
I can't look around,
Or they will know there is no heart next to my failing lungs.
Save me, please.

Anxiety will steal your light away
She will leave you in darkness
When she knows your fear of the dark will **** you.
My eyes look around wildly
Seeing yet unseeing
I need to find my way out of this crowd.
There are too many eyes that can see through me
She keeps me blind.
Save me, please

Anxiety will take away your courage
I am not brave enough to be in a room full of people.
I am not brave enough to talk to the girl sitting beside me for the last six months
I am not brave enough to look into your eyes.
Anxiety is a blue-eyed monster that won't give me back my courage.
Please please please, give it back.

There is this girl, blonde hair blue eyes.

Her stunning blue eyes get their color the same way water and the sky get their true rich blue color. They scatter light so that more blue light reflects back out.

Her hair shines so bright, as bright as the sun in the sky. Warming my heart during the daytime.

When I look into her eyes,
I see a beautiful ocean, peaceful and at ease.
I see gentleness and her personality coming free.
It's ever so engaging.

I tell her her beauty and personalities flourish.

She's a flower child.

She's the sweetest hippie bringing me peace and tranquility.

Her words can not describe her smile it's so contagious.
It's no wonder why she leaves me ever so speechless.

If I could be with this girl,
I'd do my all to give her the world in which she deserves.

The surreal sky
multi-veined blues

I **** on natures breast
a child at ease.

The sea calls everyday
seal and birdsong

and the surreal sky
pastel hued

claims my sight
beauty blued.

How many years will it take me to
forget the days we lapped the corners
of your mother's artless garden
tottering on Autumn's fruitless season.

The sunken mornings brought winds of
rupture in our chests; mingling in our
underwear, standing in the doorway
while I whistled you a song about how
intimacy can be undoubtedly forgettable like the
moon-blued waves we saw the weekend before
sleeping on the south shores of Astoria.

I expected every wave would have swallowed us up.
Sea salt stuck in my scrawny hair and we wasted
the afternoons trembling beneath layers of
flickering guilt. This moment, yearned to have
its imprint swollen shut into the crevice of my bones.
But now, its tides later and you married last October
and I don't see the point in remembering you.
Now half-drunk on an absentee love.

Blackened and blued flesh fades to green and yellow
but more will bloom beneath the skin soon.
Bruises from crazy nights out with strangers and *****,
or wild nights in with new friends (read: not yours) and ***,
and I never know when they appear, but I watch them disappear.

Nearly clear ***** lines the bag in my trash
with paraphernalia of alcoholism littered on top.
Bottles and cans and disposable $1.99 shot glasses
layered between Chinese take out and a broken six inch heel pump.
The smell might bother me if I was home more.

I haven't met the mornings for coffee
in what seems like years, instead I stumble inside
lay on a stained mattress surrounded by clothing
and sleep it off. It used to be different,
but without anyone to stop me, why not live it up?

There is no reason to slow down any more.
I have new friends and new hobbies
and I've nearly forgotten your face now.
So why should I stop, when my new plans
The ones without you, are going accordingly?

There is no real problem with enjoying my youth,
and if you disagree let me take you out with me.
You're the one who told me to grow up
when I said, "I love you." and if I choose not to,
I'll leave you at the bottom of whatever drink I choose.
There's no real problem with enjoying my youth, right?

He gets all the pretty babes,
owns all the cool gadgets.
Some say he's a magician,
but I say he's much
more than that.

He's very slick,
so in tune with his spy-side,
he can easily handle
Paris traffic at rush hour,
knows all about
diabolical-power
& how to stop it.

His smooth-ride cruises fast
in turbo overdrive,
buzzes down the road
like a well-tuned beehive.
All the cool tunes play
along with him &
he likes his things
shaken not stirred.
Roulette, no trouble,
he'll burst the bank bubble.
O that sweet little
cherry-blued PPK!
Hey now, pow pow,
he knows the endgame,
how to kick some
cloak-and-dagger ***
up & down the street.

That's why,
I want to be James Bond,
knock the ladies & the thugs
right off their feet!

To Tyler,

My bestest friend of all these years of developing youth and developing adult,
I will you my rifle. Produced under scrutiny, post-war, blued by Chinese furnaces and inspected by communist advisers. I assign this to you my friend in hope that you will recognize more in this object than its role in my suicide. Guns are not the enemy, only the tool. The tool of my execution carried out by the enemy, Our world. And Our society. And Our suffering.

This rifle, my prize. Is accurate. And powerful. And a threat to 5 lives at a time. A symbol of my free will, dissolved into the blood stains and skull fragments laced on its finely carved wooden stock.

In my life, I had loaned to you this talisman of my depression,
But now, in the wake of my death, you will see the weight of my previous actions. My prolonging of life and effort to resolve the suffering and dread I endure.

Tyler. *******. T-Swens. Sweeny Todd. Squidward. Twizzler. Squib.
Many names you have been known by myself and our peers, but erasing human choice and force, you have been known to me and my soul as a Savior of myself for far too long. You have been Beacon for my hope, Home to my catharsis, Shelter to my heart and Medic to my wounds. I love you as most one person can love another without supporting the same roof with the pillars of our spines. I love you as a brother and friend and father and son and twin soul and caring teacher and patient keeper. We are two peas as they say. We finish each other's thoughts. We read the same material and play the same games and breathe the same circles and eat the same vocabulary and sneeze the same curses.

Like two strings of ivy, supporting one another as they grow and twirl. We fight each other in attempts to suffocate our foefriend, at the same time as relying on our friendfoe for the support to grow higher and steal more light. I love you my ivy brother. And I apologize for everything.

Please do not take my death too hard. Mourn and grieve and move on. I was not a cinder block for your foundation. I was a twin building. Of sister architecture and of sister glasswork. We stood for not one score before my sore soul was stole by this full world. You will stand further. And I admire you for it, as much as I pity you for having to endure this slow acid rain and littering of broken cans and smoke rings.

Rest in peace for me, because there is no rest in death, you know this.

- Marshall. Jackledead. Pompous and loud ******* and drama queen. Forever friend.