I am sick of writing sad poems.
I want to write a happy poem.
My only problem is,
I don’t know how to.

I mean,
if I were funny it would be one thing,
but my humor consists of bad puns knock knock jokes.
Knock knocking on the inside of my brain wanting to push a smile onto your faces but the only look I get back is confusion because I can never seem to get my tongue to work in times of...
In times when a belly laugh would come from their abdomen and satisfy my hunger for becoming a comical genius.

Heres a joke for you.

Knock Knock.

“Who’s there?”

Orange

“Orange who?”

Knock knock.

“Who’s there?”

Orange

“Orange who?”



Orange you glad I didn’t finish my joke?
I keep my tongue dormant so the punchline doesn’t come out wrong,
to save myself from the embarrassment of being an idiot.
I’ll laugh it off,
but n my head I hear myself say.
“Max, what the hell was that?”
Listen, brain, I know I’m not funny,

I get my humor from either my dad or the internet,
and even then,
Tuna fish and pianos,
Oranges, apples, any kind of fruit really,
couldn’t even save me.

Three men walk into a bar.
I don’t know how they didn’t see it but that isn’t my problem,
my problem is that I am not funny, or a cool pal to hang out with.
In all honesty,
I’m pretty much a stick in the mud that wears hoodie sweatshirts every day.

So the next time I come knock knocking,
I advise you to shut the door.

They're the burning coal
In the satiated winter morning
With snow falling on the ground
And the fire burning with vigour

They're like the veins
On the creepy swollen leaves
Falling down from trees in autumn
Being crushed beneath those dreams

They're like the casks of wine
Left open on the street
Flowing into the sewer
Dissembling people's thoughts

They're like grains of sand
In one hourglass
There for each other
Together Breaking the ravages of time.

When I was little,
if I were scared,
I would crawl into my mothers bed to fall asleep,
to feel safe.

Now,
The monsters in my closet and under my bed come lay with me as the monster in my mind makes them feel the need to be safe.
Silently the monster takes control of my darkened room,
The wind applauding every dark thought that my mind generates and pulses through my veins

A chill slithers down my spine although I’m sweating,
I kick my legs and roll around,
like a wrestling match,
my body versus my mind
I wonder who will win.

The possibilities are endless.
of how to live
how to breathe.
I only know my way.
My way to live
to breathe.
Day by day.
night by night.
never gonna stop.