I want to understand human purpose ;
The doubtless impaired devotions that deviate from
‘The Human Idea’
There’s something ‘recovered’ that persists in each life
yet
in each life
it is usually
quashed habitually
These purposes are mused from off of the makings of our lives
and
when applied
can become true
unearthed work
a driven propulsion
a ‘*******’ or offering to the ‘Creator Idea’
a truth of an individual view
or
at least
some sort of an approximation.

You know, I'm not really blue.
but I can't, just can't.
shake this not really blue.
When; i just.
take that shot,
that shot.
that shot of you.

The perfect Polaroid
image.
A dream of my imperfect
desire of you.
That deep hot
un-blue hue.
That makes me sweat,
sweat over you.
Makes me turn red hot blue.

You know, I'm not really blue.
but I can't, just can't.
shake this not really blue.
When; i just.
take that shot,
that shot.
that shot of you.

In the corrupting ideas in my mind
The ones involving you were the most sensible.
And in that incessant swing of memories
I came to the realization that we are nothing
Nothing more than a pile of ashes
Rotting away
With no hope of heaven or hell.

To end,
My trembling heart,
Had finally concluded to meet you for the very last time.

It is indeed a herculean effort for my broken soul,
To gather courage and fearlessness
To look upon you without all merriment and happiness
Which once breathed in us.

I assume that,
The blurred memories which we made,
Will now collide with each other in your heart.

Memories, I believe,
Have become my past.

And now
As my future is drawing me to itself.

If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it.

Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.

Reason 12, You.
I'm looking for ideas, can't be inspired by the world around me. My head is full of unwritten, unspeakable poetry only when I see you. My muse, almost. And I try to feel- and feel- and feel. But the scenery changes. You left. Take the blame for other's actions, and your own. And every time you leave my mind, somehow always inspire me. Wether it's your tears from reading my suicide note, or your laugh from, well, anything. And the "you" is so many people, so many ideas. Past, Present, Future. "You" is a broad understanding. It's 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, or even more people. All the same, Yet so different. After such a short time, everyone leaves, and returns to my mind again. In so many different ways. The slightest is necessary. A tap on the back, and a wink. A smile, or a few tears. A hug, or guilt. My own depression. It's true what you said a few minutes ago. All my poems are tagged with depression. I'm just too sad for you, I thought. But i said; because uhh well I wrote those things a long time ago. I hear a lot; "I'm worried about you" aswell. I asked if it was a good or a bad sign that i did, and you said: A BAD SIGN OF COURSE! I laughed. Because maybe this isn't understandable, but enjoyable. Maybe the feeling, and the realisation people cared was the reason. Because it almost makes me feel happy seeing people cry. I'm a psychopath. And sometimes I see myself. And I Can't explain in words how much I hate myself for doing this to you, but mostly, for not being sorry. Don't be like me.

Everything I see,
Turns into ideas.
Poems, paintings,
Music, art.
My life is full,
Unfinished.
Drafts everywhere.
Surrounded by
Undone paintings.
I Sometimes
Have to,
Clean it all up.
Delete, Erase,
Rip apart.
So you can go now.
I don't need you,
You're a
Worthless idea.
It's all
Worthless
Anyway

< >

blue as the sea,
Your hair
soft as a pillow,
Your laugh
music to all,
Your smile
lights up my eyes,
Your thoughts
clever and wondrous,
Your body
smooth and appealing,
Your lips
lush as a valley,
Your words
give me a home
give me your all
and I’ll give you mine.

Someone lives inside my head
The Invisible Boy
He consumes my thoughts when I lay in bed
He is my emotion
and my best friend
Upon his shoulders he carries a ton
Yet only a child
He wonders and marvels
at the wild
things, He thinks of those who have no home
He thinks of those
who think they are alone
He thinks of those who seem happy
He thinks of those
who are just acting
He loves and lives inside my mind
He thinks of what will happen
to mankind
On that fateful day, The Last One
The skies will darken and a light will shine
When God will send his only son
to finish what he started, The WAR will then be won!
and no more
will we need the sun. Until that day
He thinks only of joy
He wonders and marvels
Even though he is The Invisible Boy