Why do we humans feel that

we have the right to

disregard all other beings

and do whatever we want to do?

Do we really think our vanity

is worth their suffering?

Is a slight increase in confidence

worth all the pain that it will bring?

Using all these products

meant to make us beautiful

to cause such terrible agony

is something unforgivable.

Injecting medications

meant to benefit humans

into defenseless bodies

so very different from our own.

We’ve known for many decades

that this cannot be accurate.

Stopping all this torture

would be for everyone’s benefit.

Creating such conditions

to cause depression and hopelessness

just to study their reactions

and see if they apply to us.

What could it possibly have been

that made us believe that

tormenting other creatures

would help us understand ourselves?

How can we continue

to inflict so much pain on

such kind and loving creatures

and not see that it’s wrong?

I hope that soon we’ll realize

the error of our ways

and at last we’ll bring an end to

these dark and evil days.

A child’s love runs deeper than anything you can imagine
That’s the words I was told by so many.
The amazing smell, touch of the softest skin, like an angel so pure and fresh to the world
This baby of mine.
Love doesn’t come close to how I feel about this new life.
She is my everything, our blood is the same, we are connected, im sure we are one.
When she cries my heart is aching, when she laughs my soul is alive.
Now I know what love is, but somehow the word still isn’t enough
Yes I love her, this baby of mine.

Will you lend me your ear,
Will you hear my mundane and otherwise ignored words?
Gushings of the heart that fall upon deft ears.
She is in all normalcy a girl that otherwise falls as another face
But all the same...
Can i tell you about her?
To me she is above expectations of any women.
I often find myself losing all train of thought when we speak
diving in and out of consciousness while pursuing the thoughts.
Why me? Shes so much more than I am.... What does she see?
As i think to myself she catches my wondering and mistakes it for disinterest.
I do not dare tell her how imperfect I feel next to her yet so complete.
So
An apology, a kiss, a smile...that will have to do for now.
My ramblings of her must surly bore you.
I apologize to you too.
But to be next to someone that makes your breathe leave your lungs,
to have your heart not only beat so quick it might burst but for it to burn with lust for them,
One can not help but want to speak out, create, or express their passion in a beautiful manner.
Lingering self doubts fade as we kiss
Uncomfortable stares dissipate in a tight embrace.
I fell whole, I pray to know she does too.
But i am to much of a coward to ask, fearing the answer.
I pleaded for you to let me tell you about her.
I have told all I can.
Thank you stranger, for your ear, your silence and your patience with such a rambling.

I want to die choking on my own tears,

So that I can taste something real

Right before the light fades.

I want to drown in them

Wade into my own

Salty, watery disappointments.

I want every open sore on my body

To sting and ache and throb

So that I can remember where I came from,

How I got here.

I want to sink to the bottom of a sea

made from my own eyes

thrashing about

clutching at nothing

Right before the light fades

the greatest intoxicant known to man
does not come in the form of a substance
it is not alcohol, nor ******, nor *******
it cannot be smoked, or shot up
it costs nothing
and any man can attain it
it ruins more lives than all others combined
kills more, addicts more, slowly wastes more into despair
unstoppable, claiming more each day
the greatest drug is blind rage
against which no war can be won
so that man need not fear any drink, smoke, powder, or pill
simply the horror of their own anger
for man holds no greater addiction
than to his own intoxicating rage

Universe continues to greet a mourning heart

If I were a bit braver
I'd pretend I was jumping when actually falling
And go to the bathroom at night, strolling.

And in that nice diary I'm afraid to start writing
I'd use a pen even when crying.

I would pack no sweaters for a summer vacation
And in the winter only one...or three for any situation.

And instead of "I'm fine"
I'd answer: "I wish I'd get a sign"
That everything would be all right
And I would someday finally feel light.

I would use staplers instead of clips
And teach myself to do front and back flips.

I would take a step and never look back
And live my life off of a sack.

If I were a bit braver
I would go climb a tree
And actually do something after counting to three.

expression is cliche
the passing passion is passe
an existence now of once again,
That broken record never mended

and yet these volumes shan't expire
systemized by love hate and desire
happy sad and angry too
and all those things that we all do

perhaps it is just vaguely Time,
or we have discovered a tragic rhyme,
the measure of this life repeating
the collective steady of our hearts beating

And yet! renewed with every birth!
this life maintains its giving guile
and we are forced to stay a while
to behold this cirlce round and round,
as cliche as that may sound

so carry on, my friend
and live