i love you
i hate you

i hate you
i love you

i love you




i love you

two kids
careless and naive

and that December
I’ll always remember
some kind of attraction
take a chance
what’s the worst that could happen?
butterflies killing my insides
smudged eyeliner
fighting, arguing
but I miss you
you say you don’t remember
tangled sheets and gray sweatpants

whispers. lies.
“let’s pretend”
it’s easier than telling the truth
right?

silence.

it never meant anything.
but I’m still here
always will be
and miles don’t mean anything
and my feeling don’t mean anything
to you
wrong timing, always wrong
but you could never waste my time
lets go back to how it used to be
now back to the same routine
same cycle.

The ******.
They say that beauty is in the eyes of the
beholder, however the ******
is a gold mine.

Women do not even know
what their possess
many a nation have gone to war,
because of this ugly beauty,
the seven hundred wives of
King Solomon and his three
hundred concubines
a great example of what
the ugly beauty can do.

Infidelity is on the rise,
so many lies,
since the ****** is an embarassing subject
why men lie and killed for it,
For this remarkable commodity

A ****** is like a Van Gogh painting,
it gets lot of attention.
A weapon so powerful
It can break a man down to his lowest
it has a language of its own.
silly words like sup, sup, sup. during loving making
However, that was supposed to be the primary appeal
of a beer to men.

The ****** and a beer have so much in common
they both get their men all the time,
a smooth transportation,
in addition, the lamentation,
****** you are surely number one!
Men incredible dreams,
No matter how destructive or fulfilling,.

.

One of these days, I'll learn how to write
But I'm doing the best I can
I'll probably never be Edgar Allan Poe
Or any kind of famous man

No one will ever know my name
Or even hear my rhymes
I've told myself it doesn't matter
At least a million times

For me this life is over
There's no where else to turn
The time has come for me to end it
I guess I'll never learn

Don't anyone try to stop me
For it will do no good
Things are just gonna happen
The way I knew they would

It's time for me to **** myself
Yes, It's time for the blood to flow
How long does it take to die from a paper cut
Does anybody know?

Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb
In the calm calculus of reason.

Hi. How you doin’?

I just got back into town,

L.A.

I was out in the desert for awhile

“Riders on the storm”

Yeah. In the middle of it

“Riders on the storm”

Right…

“Into this world we’re born”

Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem

“Into this world we’re thrown”

When I was out on the desert, ya know

“Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan”

I don’t know how to tell you

“Riders on the storm”

but, ah, I killed somebody

“There’s a killer on the road”

No…

“His brain is squirming like a toad”

It’s no big deal, ya know

I don’t think anybody will find out about it, but…

“take a long holiday”

just, ah…

“Let your children play”

this guy gave me a ride, and ah…

“If you give this man a ride”

started giving me a lot of trouble

“Sweet family will die”

and I just couldn’t take it, ya know

“Killer on the road”

And I wasted him

Yeah.

I miss you like the day you left,

with tears in my eyes,

forming angry rivers of deep seeded sorrow

and jealousy that I wanted to drown in.

We never said I love you,

But we could feel it trembling behind our lips with our last kiss.

Goodbye was painful enough without the dagger of truth

cutting into our chests.

When we found that one way ticket

my heart dropped like a pin in a silent room.

You were stoic like the Mona Lisa,

determined in your lack of discontentment

while I sobbed you away.

The worst of it was in the the future of irresolution.

I would never know if you’d come to love the world

more than me.

I would never know if I wasn’t Home

for you, anymore.

I would never know, if I waited long enough,

steadfast in my domesticated loyalty.

I’d sit, like an old dog, on your tacky foyer welcome rug,

waiting to tell you that I’ve not forgotten.

And if you never came back here

I’d still miss you like the day you left.

I had to tell myself that it didn’t make sense to count days,

or months, or years, if it came to it,

because even as my Sun rises,

and your Moon also does,

we still think

of that bed

that we’d fall in

and out of.