They said it was normal,
Another said it was tragic,
Hearsays and whispers,
Filled with bad endings,
His trembling figure,
Her hopeless stance,
Yet everyone has a say,
In this private dance.

Most people don't go on traditional dates
They are too afraid to go on blind dates
Too afraid to go on multiple dates
Potential couples fear rejection
So they text each other how they feel
Being spontaneous has lost a lot of meaning
At least it will be a Facebook post
A Facebook post to show status
A Facebook post to brag about seeing someone
Texting can ruin relationships
Texting leads to miscommunications
People rush to put labels on their thing
Because most people are too insecure to not have
some form of security saying that he's mine

I wish I could go back in time
Where dating wasn't a constant battle
A constant battle of showing your interest
While remaining distant enough to avoid suffocating the spark
Where you didn't have to worry about a good morning text
Where if you wanted to talk to someone you would call them
Where it was just you and them and not all your Facebook friends
Whom always put their two cents into where you two should be at
Where relationships weren't built over text and then destroyed in person
Oh how I wish I could go back in time

Everything is happening too late
Wading through pools of anger and hate
Talking to people who can't relate
Patience is gone no time to wait

For me work is not going right
I wonder if it's out of spite
***** should watch out for my bite
This may end up in a fight!

Not really but what can I say
She needs to get out of my way
This isn't the time to play
Wrap it up and have a good day!

How hard can it be? Poetry can break the normal rules, or follow them just the same, or even yet write its own rules. There is no teacher breathing down my neck, holding my grade in a vice. Nobody is forcing me to write these poems, yet I feel compelled to create them.

Ive got so many words to describe just what I want, but somehow none sound right.

I know just what I want to say and who to say it to, but I can't confront these demons.

How can I have all the right words, but put them together all wrong?

I know baby it can be hard to maintain in your frame,
in this world that's insane it's hard to stay sane,
difficult to be modest in all honestness with all this fame,
especially when they've seen your face,
heard the rumors and know your name...

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

from Hollywood Heartbeats; volume 1 available 7/7/16

I'm going to sick the sickest parts of my mind after you.
Mental illness in a mutt is rabbies.  
Having the same ending,
recovery or death.
To me, there's no difference.  

Ever been hit by a truck?
No?
Okay that's great.

You're currently being attacked by a mutt with a mental illness.
Rabid dogs and getting hit by trucks aren't that different to me.

I know, because I made him.

He grew teeth when I gave up.
He got his bark from scraped knees.
Every hair on that animal's body has a story.

Are you currently being attacked by a dog?
Yes?
Okay, great.

Now I want you to figure out what's really attacking you,
Give that dog a name.

I looked up the word in the dictionary today to read what it really meant

And all it said was your name