You don't need a brief.
Briefly let me like it
as our,
Or
Your
Words slip around
Or sound
Just briefly
As our's instead of your's

I can feel it all coming
It won’t heel everything
But it's going to make my day

I will give you my magical treat
To never leave my sight
And never beg you to stay

I can’t hide my affection
I won’t tell you to predict
But I hope you cross my way

You know


*I'm that person
everyone replaces after a while.

If I'm not told
I am not whole

I don't need your affirmation darling,
but some attention would be nice

mystery is only good for its journey

& I can't go around picking up nothing

It's one of those days where I need to remember to be kind to myself
When my breath is hardly enough to give life to an elf
One of those days where I struggle to get out of bed
I cant get anything to sit right in my head
Simply for eating something, I pat myself on the back
I have to keep reminding myself not all my thoughts are fact
John Michael stipe says not to take pictures of the bad days
To hide them away and leave it where it lays
But I take the pictures, and keep them on a shelf
To remind myself how to pick me up again when I fell
I send the bad me good thoughts on postcards
To tell myself that some days are just hard
The bad me is cold, careless and not at all nice
She likes to indulge in every frowned upon vice
Yet I accept the bad me just as I do the good
Tomorrow might be a better day and the good me will win in all likelyhood

Hey mom,
I wish I could have stuck around
So you could have taught me
On how to be a better man,
Yet I ran
From the shadows
That grabbed onto my feet.
Momma you called it the past,
Yet I see it as my psychological jail sentence
For the mistakes ive made,
My ego was shattered
And dug deep into the roots
That twist along my body

Hey mom,
I wrote you this soft poem
To let you know
That I've never seen hunger
Like this ground
That dispatches of my skin,
This shollow resting ground
Is a lot smaller than my room.
I do not search for apologies or answers
To my last questions,
I found those blowing in the wind
Next to were my last breaths were sung

And another day starts pushing
first poetry like lines
from a retired Marine
Larkin cookbook who stops
singing because I asked
if he was Army

I've never heard Das Veilchen
but Mädchen hitch hiked to hear
Reggae Prince far wide beat
in and around
Aalen perhaps the softest sound
from a Brother I've never
heard or had.

Joan and her Wild punk song really
icon and cult forms
from Assisi 142
Mercy mercy was
it my whole faith then
and now

Listen, What do you hear?
A killer silence in a crowd of people,
Nobody speaks no longer,
Every person young and old looking down ,
In the deepest silence we may hear , tap tap tap or click click click,
The moments pass,
At long last, someone may say 'hello' or 'i better go' ,
But in quick realisation we see this person is like us all, hand to their ear speaking through a line,
Board games no longer, street lights rarely seen in the midst of evening by the children,
Each of us, glued to screens , letting time pass away, no time spent together, a new love of our lives ,
What is this you ask?
The devil i say, also know as technolgy.