From where to start,
And where can i end.
I used to write poetries
I used to dance while words sang,
They used to be my best friends,
And now they're gone.

I don't know how to express,
I don't know how to rhyme,
It feels like i've lost the feeling,
Like i've lost love of my life.

Lost or replaced, a question remains,
Maybe replaced by a never ending pain.
This pain stops me from writing,
This pain has left me with nothing,
Either it makes me feel itself,
Or it makes me feel nothing.

I don't deserve to be loved,
I don't deserve to live,
I've nothing to give in return,
I'm just holding on to these noisy breaths.

I slit my wrists, i slit my hands,
I slit my thighs, i slit my skin,
Not to shake hands with death,
But just a try to say a firm 'hello' to life.

Dear Stranger,
I had a dream last night.
A dream, which I will never forget.
A dream, where I didn't fall into the trap of my neighbour uncle luring me into a false promise of chocolates when I was five years old and kissed my ******.
A dream, where I slapped the stranger on the road instead of running away when he masturbated looking right into my eyes on the middle of road.
A dream, where I brought the true colors of my so-called brother in front my family when he tried to rub his tool on my ***.
A dream, where my ex didn't try to undress me when my soul was tearing apart.
A dream, which I will never forget.

I see great ***** every day
in the subway
and, suddenly, my favorite Hitchcock movie changes from
Rear Window to Vertigo.
The movement of the train calms me down and I fall asleep quickly,
dreaming that I'm in Kerouac's car, quietly hitting the road
like ******* hit his canvas.

I see great ******* every day
on the bus that takes me home,
but not one single *****
for me to lay my ear on.
The dream comes to a crossroad where me and Jack have to part ways.
He'll go down in history like a great writer
and I'll quietly go down on memory lane in oblivion.

Memory disappointed me
and left a bad taste
in my mouth - literary ******* ain't what it used to be.

I'm still here.
Patiently waiting.
Tapping my foot.

I'm still here.
Where you left me.
Worrying.

I'm still here.
Wiping my tears.
You aren't coming back.

I think I'll go now.
Turn off into the snow.
Let it over take me.

I'm gone now.
The tree is bare.
The wind has stopped.

I'm long gone now.
The tree has budding leafs.
And I'm gone.

**Gone into the wind.

Up is up, so down is down.

Red and green means Christmas, obviously.

Birds singing? Happiness.

Rumors equal catfights.

Cheating leads to divorces. Multiple.

And this poem is about you. Duh.

A duck can drink and walk
but can he catch a fish and fly
we're about to find out

after getting drunk that night
he stumbled inside
a police station full of cops

the duck started slurring his words
blacked out with his **** in the air
he was so drunk the fish was in the other end

the police are puzzled what to do
so they stuck him in a zoo
until the duck starts acting like a duck