Research papers require
a disgusting amount of disease
and desire

You smell like the second night
In a fresh bed of sheets
Soon to be soaked
In a morning sun
That has slipped it's way
In through the window to
Drench you in daylight and responsibility.
You worry what the others will think
But they're downstairs
And a ghost like wind
Will shut your door to hide you from them,
It will caress you and suggest you
Dive back into sleep again
But morning must end  
And you're drawn back
Into the pretend game
That awaits you
On the other side
Of your second day sheets.

C.e.M. 3.21.15

The unfortunate things take our Lives.
They storm the castle walls of Living,
And run like hordes throughout Life.
We, at times, are too lazy to Fight.

i am a very talented typing cat
all though i know how to use capital letters and punctuation marks
i cant stand them i have decided to take over the world through lack of both
if you cant use comas then lets eat grandma will **** everybody
leaving me the only one left
but what happens when somebody says something that kills the cats
i am beginning to see why we use grammar
yet i still refuse
i wish i could explain to you why my predicament is so brain racking
but what if i did take over the world with lack of grammar
but then again what if i took over the world through extensive use of grammar
causing everybodys brain to take over their body
wait arent brains already in control
so what if the lack of grammar caused the brain to only focus on my lack of proper english
and now you see why english teachers say they arent payed enough
so maybe if i used an extensive amount of grammar then people would be required to go back to school
just because a cat is smarter than they
and then the outcome would be a financial crisis causing more people to be poor
and goods to become more expensive
maybe i can take over the world with extensive grammar usage

now i just need to figure out how to get people to read my work

please excuse my spelling and grammar i may be a very intelligent cat
but i too am lazy

Sunday sun-dazed steamy sweet haze
of our warm breath coats the icy
window panes the sky shines bluer
than our fingers in the snow so
sleep on dreamer while we wait for
summer days to breathe again

It's simplistically the most painful baring ever,
the world is rotating slowly alongside that time, we grow.
I sit here not amused with myself, in every form of way,
I honestly want to be grateful for everything,
but it is never enough for me.

I look at the clock going off in my mind,
ticking every single second away.
I stare at the walls which slowly decorate themselves,
but realistically always look the same.
I feel myself slowly urging to advance yet never seem to do so.
I see myself crying inside,
I want to let out yells and I don't know why.

A woman can paint her life away, staring at the same objects happily,
yet I am here sitting here writing the same **** things over and over until they satisfy me.

Why do I stress out on being so perfect to the eyes of others?

On the page they draw me in.
In my mind, the drive me crazy.
Teaming up against me, like rugby.
Tainting things until they look ugly.
Telling stories, a thousand stories above reality
With crystal clear clarity.
These treasures, so pure it's too clear to see.
as with time, they get the best of me.
Idle hands; the rest is history.