don't trust them.
they'll put a hammer in your heart
and refuse you from feeling.
they'll put duct tape over your lips
so and restrict you from speaking.

don't trust them.
they'll put your feelings in a blender
with gravel and ice.
they'll constantly break you
then put you back together.

don't trust them.
they can hit
and leave cuts.
they can burn
and leave scars.

don't trust them.
and you'll end off better than me.

A minute for a dollar, a second for a dime.
I execute it all for pay.
My daily trade is killing time.

I slice the day up like a lime
in sections green and silver-gray.
A minute for a dollar, a second for a dime.

I'm practiced in this pantomime,
proficient, quite au fait.
My daily trade is killing time.

Like a hit man in his prime
I knock off the hours of the day.
A minute for a dollar, a second for a dime.

Yet killing here is not a crime;
it's merely the established way.
My daily trade is killing time.

No. killing here is not a crime;
it's the toll road through this fray.
A minute for a dollar, a second for a dime.
My daily trade is killing time.

My headphones are on.
I know what I'm hearing.
And I hope you can hear my heart break with every hit.
There is no excuse.
There is no cover up.

You wouldn't allow me to sit idly by and listen to you drain the blood from your hands.
I've been there, I've done that.
100,
200,
300,

Are you even counting? I'm not, and even I know you've doubled up on the hits.

I can hear it.

Can you?

I write because the paper listens
to the tears and laughter of my soul
like blood pumping though my vanes
seeping ink drips down the damp pages
as I write across every straight line
the messy confused bottled up thoughts
turn into questions running through my head
high above my neck it sits holding it all in
just think of what my brain is going through
my pen may scribble to fill the page
with words written from my soul
yet it transforms all my thoughts
never before told

my pen takes hold of the paper
as I hold the flow of my thoughts
floating through the lines on each page
riding the waves of concept
that takes flight
thoughts are like birds
so many in groups
bunched together
one by one loose
feathers drop
here and there
falling out of line
yet finds its place
ether speaking in flight
or written in words
the paper listens
that's why I write

my words can hit instantly as you can see
I have to jot them down as they spark..
or they just might fly away from me
I write because the paper listens
for inspiration it can vanish so quickly
sometimes my thoughts may flow fast
if I stop in the middle I lose the imagery
causing my pen to trip over words
leaving behind a big mess of typos
then the bad grammar is exposed
my pen may scribble to fill the page
with words written from my soul
yet it transforms all my thoughts
never before told

just to let you know
my words can hit instantly
that's just how I be
most of my writings
are free style poetry
my mind possess the tempo
as each poem I write grows
I the poet hum silently as
my ink of harmony flows
from my quenching desire
my mind and fingers they
think much faster than me
unleashing unspoken thoughts
silent for too long I can not be
the paper listens and gets drenched
with thoughts of my hot to the touch
written emotions curved creatively

my cards don’t line up.
i know yours don’t, either.
if love’s a game, i call bluff.
you lay your cards
and think you’ve won.
we’ve just begun.
if love’s a hit and run,
you can play that perfectly.
if love’s a game,
then i will never lose.

Sometimes I wish you would
Hit me and kick me,
Make me beg for mercy,
And torture me forever.

Sometimes I wish you would
Beat me until I'm numb,
Make me cry out,
Cut me until I can't bleed anymore...

Sometimes I wish you would
Use my body,
Give me everything I deserve,
And tear me apart...

Sometimes I wish you would
Just throw me through a wall,
Break every bone,
Make my tears stream into my wounds...

Because that would be
So much easier than
Sitting here and
Watching you be with her.

There was no sound..
At least thats how I remember it..
I forgot what the sun looked like..
We all have lived in darkness for the last 26 years.
We had to bring him here..
For what?
All he does is sleep.
We carried him all the way up here for nothing.  
I left my family to bring him here.
Some loser drug attic..
All he cares about is his high..
" Give me another hit."
"Give me another hit."
" Give me another hit."
Well we made it.
And nothing has happened..
The sky is still full of darkness..
And they are all coming for us..
All I can do is go down fighting..
We light up our swords and await our final battle..
And then it happened..
A beautiful light shined from him..
The drug attic was burning brightly..
I then realised later he was using the drugs to keep his power in check..
He then shot off to the darkest part of the sky..
The shadow heart that beats darkness..
There was no sound..
He looked like a shooting star slowly leaving the Earth..
As he hit the shadow heart light began to leak in..
And then all at once dawn arrived..
The old forgotten sun shined down a new day..

The scorching of the sun diminished
Black clouds fluffed up the skies
Thunders and lightning hit the drums of change
New winds have traversed in
And the trees danced to their gushy choir
Pearls of rain drops fell down to earth
And the sands have welcomed them with joy
Behold! I have arrived.
The monsoon said.