i torment myself for my inability to love,
my inability to sense the light after the storm.
i spend my days wondering when,
when will i give myself to another
when will the world be ready?

A blinding
Hopeless inclination towards a blending of nostalgia
And something just a twinge surreal.
Too enraptured, perhaps, or too locked inside the senses
The search takes me places, to small shards that I don't quite comprehend.
Still unsure why, if I can't, or I just don't want to.

It's old and familiar
Soaking in solitude, rife with memory.
Touched lightly by the hem of rose tint, blooming in the spreading flames.
As the old wooden paneling, tried as a tinderbox
Begins to peel away, affected by the heat.
A fire, awakening with the first rays of morning.
To warm up the little room, as the walls softly fall, turning to ashes.
Revealing the bare frame.
And the fauna outside begins to show itself
Sprinkled with dew, gently coaxing away the flames.
Rooted too close, it would seem
As they progress, slowly wither under ash

But for now, I still crawl through creation.
Hopeless, I'll never recapture...
Ignoring new context, engulfed in this fruitless rapture
With the past still dancing through my head.

I love your eyes and the way they meet mine
I love your lips and their taste of cherry wine

I need your touch like I need air
I need your smile I can’t help but stare

I feel the warmth of your presence
I feel the envy of your effervescence

I beg to be by your side
I beg to be your guide

I see a bit of us in everything I do
I see a world I’d love to explore with you

I hear your voice in my soundest sleep
I hear your laugh in my mind so deep

I smell your deodorant on the clothes I wear
I smell your scent lingering in the air

I can’t live without you here
I can’t live alone in fear

I miss your lovely eyes too much
I miss your sizzling electric touch

I need you to be mine
I need you to make me fine

I am happy when you’re around
I am happy when you’re safe and sound

I think of you in my waking hours
I think of you through the sweet and sours

I hope one day you can see my love
I hope one day we can meet above

Always closer than you ever think it is, one
Little slip, and you're straight through the abyss
Finding out in the end, all life ends. Carrion.
Vultures with eight tracks and tape decks

Copulation and emotion means I'm breeding ****** hatred
And I hate it
Mockeries of notions once raised
In earnest
Flirting with danger, burning moth to the flame
Stirring up anger with a few thoughts on pages
Irking, and senseless, the ******* sensation

Self righteous indignation, taking words of the page
Same goes for the gumption, with wars that I wage with myself
Heath goes first, better or worse
Slit eyelids, cause it can't hurt to see straight

It's always closer than you ******* think it is, one
Little slip, and this bleakness you insist
In existing in, ends, without a prerogative
As opaque as ever, severing lungs

Servitude, I could never miss, its
Fluid as my thoughts on narcissist

She wore a fur coat
Made of a lame prophet
'Cause she was blind.

Carried my weight on her shoulders
I suggested she open her eyes
The rest, I had memorized.
So At least when I died
She was always on my mind.

I was a terrible navigator
In the court of god, convicted sinner.
She had a hunger for shape shifters
I fed her.

Soon as the car started,
we parked it.
Leaned the seats back, fogged the doors
I stared at her collarbone
We didn't go far.

Who could have predicted
Her body in a Broken mirror
I was her seer for two years
Shame I couldn't see her

This all could of been different.
Shepard said to lamb
Follow the dog, He knows the road
figured god assumed
My soul was cold
Her soul was coal that warmed the home.
The hearth, the meat, the lame, the blind.
The Golden brown, leaves outside.
The autumn trees like Coffeeshops
call out to me

She Hollows out our her dowry
pollen spread like a dandelion.
Polluted whole cities with seeds

Memories and libraries
The chalk outlines in my mind
All that was left of these things.

So whether you fall or fly
Girl, I'll be singing

If nobody listens, I'll paint the clouds.
If no stare is lifted, I'll shake the ground.
If everyones sleeping,
I'll give them something to dream about.

If nobody sees it, We already lived
a life worth dreaming
so who gives
a **** who pays attention.

Just let the lame guide the blind.
Just let the lame guide the blind
Just let the lame guide the blind

I’d love to write something clever and witty
To capture the essence of Dr Suess in a ditty
But try as I might, the words don’t take flight
And the whole thing just sounds kind of ******

staring at the stars,
I've never felt so small.
I realize that the universe is so incredibly huge,
that nothing in it matters at all.

anything that I will ever do
will eventually be forgotten,
so it doesn't really matter
what sort of trouble I get caught in.

I know it matters to my parents
that I graduate this year,
but I'm starting what I want to do
by posting my amature poems here.

I'm sharing my thoughts with strangers,
and trying to make them rhyme,
but like I mentioned earlier,
my words will all be forgotten with time.

but that's not going to stop me
from trying to become a "writer",
I can do this from my bedroom,
it makes my heart feel a little lighter.

I'm just trying to find my place,
I'm trying to be happy.
I'm feeling a bit of grace
even if these poems are ****** :P

Everytime I hit the front page
I am saddened by the tortured souls
Who populate its halls

I will not write sad poetry
I will endeavor to brighten these corridors
Feel free to join me.