I can see the horizon.
I can see the ocean.
I can see the beach.
I can see cars driving.
I can see trees.
I can see buildings.
I can see birds flying.
I can see airplanes lift and land.
I can see boats out at sea.
I can see everything.
And yet I can’t see a future with you in it.

Pain is genuine and open.
You never absorbed mine the way I did yours .
The yeast turned to sugar turned to poison turned to tears.

I saw you only in old buildings, over grown yards, dive bars, and yellow walls.

crawling vines lost their appeal.
My mother loves moss grown between cracks of forgotten homes.
She hasn’t seen what I have.
Charming as it is as first, the smell of old neighborhoods never leaves you.
Anything can be appealing when it’s new, including old houses and old pain.

He didn’t care much for living. But I saw the whole that that leaves behind

I washed up on the shore
You were already standing there
Like you were expecting me
You made me feel warm again

I could feel the sun burning my neck
As I turned around and followed you into the forest
It was like a warning
The sun trying its best to make me stay

But I couldn't resist
And you led me deeper in
It was so dark

I remember falling asleep
And when I woke up
You were already gone

I stumbled around in the dark
Time went by
I thought I saw the shore
Where it all began

I rushed my steps
My blood started pumping faster
In a hurry towards the light
A twig scratched my left arm

I didn't feel any pain
But then I saw the blood
First just a few drops
Then my arm was all covered

I kept on running
Faster and faster
The light was getting dimmer
But I could smell the ocean now

And then I was there
I was too late
The sun was setting

I could barely see it shining
Behind some tall buildings
That weren't there before

The sun disappeared
And so did I

I found this ruin only by chance,
Its hypnotic Ivy, leaves me in a trance,
Hiding the features with its natural lace,
Supporting the wall, as they embrace,

The child inside me, can't help but explore,
Ascending the steps, to the withered old door,
Opening it slowly, interrupting the calm,
Disturbing the peace, like a morning alarm,

Birds fleeting, like the thoughts in my mind,
In awe of it's beauty, I left my troubles behind.
The sun breaking through, the absent gable,
Highlighting a chair, missing its table.

I come to rest in that old wooden chair,
I look up, in the suns aura I stare,
The heavens open as my spirit glides,
Out from my body as I breathe through the sky.

I am drawn to the roadside of an old country lane,
A car hugging a tree, smoke following flame,
A camera recording, from a lifeless grip,
Capturing the tragedy of a summers road trip,

Besides a body, is his newly wed bride,
Her breathing shallow, she looks in his eyes,
Calling his name, for the very last time,
Her spirit leaves, as she is drawn to mine,

Our spirits embrace as we ascend for sky,
As the heavens await the groom....
..and his beautiful bride.

my eyes are flashlights
my face a mess
of beauty standards
and hidden rage

i am a building
many people at the same
good evil none
all for different fame

i breathe co2
i drink gasoline in a cup
my skin is rough concrete
wires all the way up

i speak in machines
scream drills and hammers
i am all noise, chaos
what comfort is there in silence?

i dress in fake nature
plastic bags hold my pride
i take the control
but never once do i command

i am the cancer
on earth's lung
i am the darkness
tainting all black

i am what they call progess
but i am what prevents us from it
i am a mess of glass
and conctrete all in one

i may seem pretty and kind
creating opportunities all around
i build your home
just to tear the real one apart

and deep in the night
between the flashes and chaos
one may be able
to see a kind of nature
that it is still out of my graspe
but as selfish as i am
i blind you with my light
preventing you to fall
from a far-away love

do not look away
no, do not look at what truly is beautiful

because if you do
if you see how the water flows
or how the sun shines
or even feel the grass

you might forget me—
you should resent me
you must break me—
just so you can go back

i like to think about
the time before
my life was familiar to me.
remember when the tiles of this
hallway had never
seen my footsteps?
remember when the buttons of this
elevator had never
felt my fingertips?
remember when the music that
filled this hall had never
been made by me?
my memory of the flags in the windows
and the trees breaking up
the pavement in the parking lot
and the glass doors made of
piano keys
it never meant anything then.
i only thought i understood
what i was seeing
when i thought i’d never
see it again.
the painting in front of me
has changed me as much
as i changed it.
just think
if i saw the same things a year ago
as what i’m seeing today
and nothing seems the same
how different will everything be
tomorrow?

throw themselves off buildings

Words came out like a half miles of unheard words to the English language. The real reason she was so unheard of was because like her she was such a rare sight. But she's not the kind of art presented in some studio. She's the kind of art thats scribbled on side of buses, train carts, and on top of buildings because she was all I wanted to present to the world the true raw beauty of her. As if she wasn't already wanted for stealing my heart she was wanted for being scribbled upon the walls. It soon she would disappear as if she never existed until she bcame scribbled with cans upon the walls of the city thousand times more in many forms.