A fall is only as bad as you make it
A doorstep is not as deadly as a canyon
But I would like for you to tell that
To the shattered vase

The jagged edges of the broken glass
Shimer and shine like blood on protruding bones

While cleaning it up I feel a sudden pain
I inspect the injury
A small cut has appeared on my hand
Red liquid pools in the palm of my hand
A chuckle emerges from my chest
"In my clumsiness and neglect I have not only hurt another, but also myself.
"I will let you have your revenge because I do not blame you for being spiteful."

I pick up the pieces and inspect the translucent stones
"I could buy glue, pick up every piece, spend hours recreating this masterpiece."
"No, I am no craftsman. I am no glasssmith."
"This vase is broken."
The smell of sweat and iron reminds me of the damage that I brought on myself

My body has already started the process of repair
The blood has hardened to cover the wound
I try not to think about it
"It will sort itself out." I think to myself

I head out a second time to transport the vase
Pain in my hand refuses to subside

I ignore it

Within a few steps the glass once again falls
My hand throbs with sharp uncontrollable pain

The palm of my hand rotten and greened
Much worse than it had seemed
I look for a glove to cover the mess
But the problem won't end untill it's addressed
As I look for the glove the rot continues to grow
But if I only find the glove no one will know
Before i know it i am consumed
In much less time then I presumed

My eyes open to a blinding white room
Surrounded by faces of people  I know
Disappointed but worried
I had not done what was right
I had not asked for help
I had not even taken care of the injury
These people all care about me
I had let them all down
I will need to try again to move the vase
But this time I know
I will need help without my right hand

Come here,

Let me taste & bite softly into those lips little lady
Juicy like my favorite candy,
that’s a “Now & Later”.
Kissing on my neck, giving me hickeys
Loving my scent, always stealing my hoodies.
Grab you, squeeze you, spank you, thank you
No one else deserves this treatment like you do.
I want you to focus, watch, & observe
Lick, slurp, oh I struck a nerve.
Please you, please you, keeps you so eager
Those jeans cause trouble the way them cheeks just sit up.
In public so sweet, but my private lil’ freak
I peep you trying to play me for keeps.
Attractive, Delicious, Teasing, Yummy
Keep you around cause you stay stunning.
Bragging to others you’re taken & that I’m your man
I like that cause I needed boo thang like you on my hands.

Classrooms are what you make of them
Empty faces, cotton filled ears
The spark of something new in the eyes of a few
The glaze of sleep in most.
Anticipating the day they are freed.

One day.

Professors who do their best not to reflect the boredom
That they sense thick as tar in the closed up space.
Windows shut, blinds down.
No distractions,
They hope their pupils make something of themselves.

One day.

One girl in the corner jotting down notes,
Too slow before they're erased.
She holds on to imagination as much as she can,
It stretches thin as it flees from her.
She hopes she can make it strong again.

One day.

The boy in the back always has his head down,
Never fully present,
Never to be whole again.
Loss is a bullet none can dodge.
He hopes the wound will heal.

One day.

And the ******* her laptop before class begins.
Typing what she sees in the guise of prose
Desperately hoping the creativity she lost,
Can find it's way back to her.

One day.

My concept of time is completely warped, and for that, I pay no attention to it. Remember when you were younger and a year felt a lot longer than it does now? When you are young, and life is long, there is time to ****, but as we age time escapes us. However, we are just doing laps around the sun.

Softly played music soothes
The wind howls as cars pass.
The fluorescent light shines on me.
Alone by myself, in a small room.
Paying for stress and work.
A slave of my own making.
I hope it will be worth it.

I liked the way you and
your crisscrossed legs sat on
my middle-school-ignorant
navy-blue and daisy-patterned comforter,
watching,
hearing,

the way your fingers crept
towards the neck of my ukulele
while the magnetized look in your eyes drew mine and
my own fingers fell
slack in divine-driven intrigue,

the way you and
your eyes
full of quiet study and wisdom, like
worship, like
your respect of this instrument as not wood but as
hundreds of years of polished amber-tinted history
has earned you ownership, and it
does.

you and
your fingers then
spun aching minor chords, like
worship, like
somehow, in the sparkling incensed-violet melody you
spilled all over
me in my righteous nihilism

you and
your body became an
offering, and
the wood

burned my fingertips when you
handed it back to me, ashamed and awe-stricken, like
worship, like
your life is an offering, and even

when I found the notes you played
(on this instrument that is not mine)
200 days and 200 nights after I knew you and
your legs sitting on my bed and
your multidimensional fingers,
worshipping,

no matter what I tell myself, I
am not a believer in beyond, and
pretending to pray just reeks of
my own mortality.

Made a couple extra dollars last week
well actually it was a check to be
exact and now
it’s gone

I used it as a bookmark for the time
being, but forgot which book I left
it in

Now on a brisk Tuesday morning in October
the only thing that stands between me and
a smooth cup of coffee is a stack of
crinkled books

Slowly but surely, I ****** up the tattered copies
of Dickinson, and Tolstoy, and Lawrence, and Byron
tossing through the pages

Not a drop of worry enters my mind, knowing it’s
in one of the books but I just have to find it
and hell, it’s going to be sticking out of the top
there’s no way I could have misplaced it too bad
I’m not a complete fool after all

“Just gotta get through the books and
all the money is mine,
all the money in the world”
I say musing myself

You know, I actually went to a place
for four years straight and I swear they told me
the exact same thing

“Just get through the books and you’ll have
all the money in the world” was all I heard relentlessly
from the teachers, students, and myself
all while I was giving them
all the money I had in the world yet here I stand broke
scraping for change

I guess I am a fool after all

When I met you I thought my life would change
I thought my life would have meaning
I thought I was becoming a man

When I met you
My life changed
Not the way I expected though

I stopped doing drugs and smoking
I found love and loved it
I found friendship and cherished it
Friendship betrayed me soon after
Love sent me on my way
I became a party animal
And drug addict

Highschool
When I met you
I thought my life would have meaning,
But my thoughts were deceiving
I was blind to what I was seeing
And lost myself

Tomorrow I'll send you on your way
And there'll be no way to make me stay
I'll never forget you
I'll never regret you
I'll never miss you
Tomorrow my life will change,
But wasn't that how all this started