It helps me feel better about myself by putting my emotions into terms that everyone will understand, for example:

My life is like a joke with no punchline.
Maybe more like I’m telling the joke, and I forgot the punchline,
so now we’re both sitting here awkwardly trying not to feel too bad for me.
It probably wasn’t even that funny anyway.

My life is like a poorly written sitcom that only lasted for a season because no one could emotionally connect with the main character.
Almost like there was no budget—
And it’s just me, sitting in front of a camera screaming.

My life is like going to get a steak and cheese, hold the mushrooms, and not only are there mushrooms, but they’re cooked into the meat so you can’t even take them out.
Alright, maybe my life isn’t that bad.

I don’t know how to say that I can’t get up in the morning.
That I am Jesus, my demons are his disciples, and this bed my cross— I am nailed to it.
Instead I tell you that everyday feels like a Monday, even the weekends.

I’m not great at anything, but if I was to pick my biggest accomplishment,
it would be that no one knows when I’m joking anymore.
I just hope that when it’s my time to go, i’ll be forgiven for making it so hard to know me.

Who, what where
why?
Cat, sat, mat.
Why
Unknown.

it is so, so easy
to write about cold beds
and tear stained cheeks
yet, it is difficult
to write of memories,
                                       of thoughts,
                                                       ­      of happiness
the things that could illuminate city streets
so for now,
i will lay my head to rest
and come morning
i will write about the bright,
the stars that shine despite the night

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

if i am graced to have a daughter
i want her to be a fool, a beautiful little fool.

a fool in the sense that she dreams too big
i hope she runs head first into a multitude of hopes for what she wants to be
i hope she runs around with her little legs carrying her weight telling everyone that when she's ten, oh when she's ten, she'll be the queen of every nation and that the people will sing twinkle twinkle as a global anthem

a fool in the sense that she rushes into things
never looking before she leaps, just diving straight in
leaving behind a trail of mass destruction with her tiny hands all stemming from that beautiful little mind of hers

a fool in the sense that she so easily falls in love
from falling in love with a cartoon character to falling in love with herself
but not just falling in love, giving the love back onto whoever she deems it fit for

i hope she's a fool
because by being a fool she will live a life that meets it's greatest potential
and that beautiful little fool will be just like her mother
a fool for whatever life has to offer

All I
Am
And
Who
Ill
Be
B
a
  l
   a
    n
     c
      e
       d
      On a
    C h a i r  

Hung   in   space

       Silence
          And
Tranquil Peace

       Frozen

    In the air




Then a
       Shift
A slight
  Movement
     From the
L
  e
    g

And my, me, myself, I,
Ends-up-turned
On the floor, ego dead.

I don’t have anything against them flailing about,
With their commanding stare and whisper shouts,
Don’t get me wrong it’s not an easy job,
To keep all in time with a clean kebab,
And I don’t think I could keep a civil look when an oboe’s flat.

I think that’s when my brain would crack,
Just as when you break a twig,
First you feel the wood bend and give,
Then Crack! Like stubbing your toe,
Sudden pain and yelling, I’ve thrown my shoe at the tone deaf Oboe