Hooked on self destruction,
my mind was a tragedy at best,
but something in the back of my head,
says something different than the rest,
the small part of my mind,
in which hope lives,
the small part of me,
that believes life is meant to be lived,

Who cares about my past,
all the stupid **** I've done,
the best thing to do, to turn it all around,
is live in the now,
forget about all the things I've said,
about being a pessimistic nothing,
I'm kinda starting to realize,
I more than a bit of a something.

Flashes of denial campaign
undiscovered in my ears
while laughter sounds out like static
from a land where words
expose their wonder.  
What lies beneath
waves of pleading promises
that lie touching my heart
like winds of change
bring on thunder?

Has my existence flown
to find the answers
inside of years
up on the silent mountaintop
that I once called
my home?
I find that now I live with chaos
looking in my windows
at every single hollow place
it sees
when I am sitting
all alone.

Insanity is everywhere
I see it staring at my mouth
as honesty spews on everything
I deny to be,
while in all of my despair
I hear words
laughing out at me.
I breathe in deep then lift the voice
with which I write
and wait........
for my pen to bleed.

O beautiful
was the werewolf
in his evil forest.
We took him
to the carnival
and he started
crying
when he saw
the Ferris wheel.
Electric
green and red tears
flowed down
his furry cheeks.
He looked
like a boat
out on the dark
water.