I am the lightbulb
That burned out last night
But no one sees until morning

I tried to take a picture
Of everyday I was with you
I tried to take a picture
Of all the happiness you bring

I tried to take a picture
Of the flowers that you sent
The ones that were red
With that very strong scent

I tried to take a picture
Of the day that shined so bright
The way the sun radiated yellow
Giving us its light

I tried to take a picture
Of the nights by the lake
Where we sat in the blackened dark
Smoking getting baked

I tried to take a picture
Of the smile on my face
But I turned the camera around
To hide the clear but staining tears that raced

I tried to take a picture
Of the love around me,dear
But an uncompromising flash burnout
Causes me fear

I tried to take a picture
Of the happiness you bring
But what I captured
Was the truth and its sting

I don't know where to come
I keep telling you

Sure you do, you always do

Then why do I still question it

You do everytime,
let go and unwind
peace, harmony, relaxed mind, body, spirit, and soul
Let go
Let go
Let go

Heavy days and sleepless nights -
Vicious circle of my life.
I spend all my time in doubts,
Nothing fills my empty mind.

Haven’t chosen the right ladder,
Don’t know which deceit to preach.
What I have will never matter, What I want is out of reach.

There are a series of drafts
that blow fiercely through the gaps
of the home of creativity.
Cooling the efforts
of the imaginative fire,
so that it no longer grows or glows.
The home's strength is tested
by its own scarecrow,
who should be out with the crops
to discourage other birds,
that can stop new growth.
But the straw-man persists
with his unequal arguments.
Tampering with emotions
inciting the fire to risky proportions.
And so the home of creativity
burns itself down.
Because it's walls are too weak
that some straw-stuffed clown
can overstep it's boundaries
and raze it to the ground.

White powder on an iPhone case
Black coffee to mask the taste
Rolled bills against my face
Usually no one keeps pace

Sometimes I believe I've gone insane.
My allies made over a pile of *******.
Veins burning awaiting more.
Eyes sore, but my feet seem to slide over the floor.

Heart pounding, nerves firing.
Tiring, not exhausting.
A workout for the burnout.
I have few hopes as to what I’ll turn out.

Only a mind away.
Numb, but alive.
I only feel what I'm prescribed
I’ll press on, needle to a record.

**** that.
I’m digital, my ideas, critical.
I’ll wake up each day with an eye for new breath.
I’ll keep moving forward, alone or in union, i’ve got a plan, and I’m gonna seek it.
Brick by brick, my world, I’ll build it.

my pen quivers above my paper
my fingers tremble & i fear
the ******* scream caught in my throat
will soon escape and tell all.

the page rots in front of me, ink blots
instead of words and rhymes, that's all
i can manage, my heart is cracked &
i feel the tidal blue deep within
begging release.

used to that i could write day in and day out,
my heart mapped out on college rule, notebooks full
but now it's an empty vessel, with dust and smoke
instead of firelight passion.

the day i met you, the day i kissed you,
you scorched my soul and burned the very words from
my lips, my dry aching desert heart, i'm floating away,
gone.

my pen quivers, my fingers tremble, my eyes water,
since the day you stole my pottery heart,
i haven't written a poem, not a single line,
not a single word.