To many thoughts invested with the reflection of It all in sight where I know my affirmation won't reunite..  Tell myself marty what the hell is wrong with this picture...  But with the liquor was the last glimpse  of her,  an now your a ghost in her reflection​. ..  Due to such immature aggression   instead of your true intension..  Now that hands of another will soon behold your entire world while your here to wonder if being strong the only option is exactly worth the time..   Pretending its all fine..  Seeing your whole purpose behind your existence is missing due to your pathetic  excuses..  An mistakes..  Now everything you love forsakes you. The painful truth In whole. . so everyone is else take this advice..     Take her or him to greatest heights. . cause it worth the fight dont do what I did..   Cause there are only so many chances until its all gone. An i buried myself alive until I die.

he calls me love when he's mad

his sweetheart when he's sad

he calls me a wilting flower in the sun

a fragile broken piece of glass when we're done.


He brings me blossoms in the spring

in the fall, always nothing

in the winter he leaves my toes cold

but my heart is always a bit too bold

and in the morning it reaches out

and is left to wander home a different route.

I lay in bed, lost at night

not knowing if his love for me is right

for when the morning comes and all is light

I never miss him, or his plight.

Her face-

A thousand suns,

A cosmic dance under

The ever-expanding escape;

The curtains that fall heavily

Upon the eyes of oblivion.



Her hands-

A fox running

Through the meadow;

The open cages that

Confine gloom back

Into its prison.



Her eyes-

An indefinite eternity,

Through which both

Dark and light speak;

The great

Illusionist.



Her lips-

A bitter moonlight

Casting its shadow upon

Persisting glow;

The ripeness of a

Mango in its season.



Her feet-

A battered road

Folding upon itself

As it struggles to find

Its way home;

The seeds scattered

In every empty hole.



Her-

A desolate daydream

That runs through

Unbounded space;

The deep ocean trench

I’ve completely

Drowned in.

She wouldn't, couldn't give her name,
but they still took her in when she called.
I visited, adopted her,
though she must have been in her twenties.

We called her Monica. It seemed to fit.
She never spoke, sitting at her half opened window,
sampling a sliver of the fraught stree air.
I don't think she could take any more of the real world.

She stayed there safe in her dull, blue walled retreat,
an observer, lacking a ticket of entry.
And when darkness fell, and the curtains were closed,
the house lights went up on her secret, inner theatre.

Moonlit summer shore
Blackness deep waves sing
He walks
A pencil writes His thoughts

I have been aboard
the great iron ship
curls of white escaping
the bow
it cuts like a blade
fleeing clouds tumble
as I stand  above and benieth
the beautiful blue.
The day is at its brightest
yet I yearn for the stars
as that is when the sky
will truly wake