I try to write from different perspectives
Think outside of my box and be more objective
Give every style of writing a chance
Be open to learning an alien dance
I appreciate effort and creativity
Even if it's subjects that for me don't come easily
I try to write and read from different perspectives
But one thing remains constant
I feel rejected

I don't like my skin today
It doesn't fit me right
It's loose in the wrong places
Where I need room, it's too tight
The color doesn't match my mood
I don't appear slate gray
I think I might go back to bed
I hate my skin today

Perhaps inspiration is the problem.
I have always danced with words.
Blending syllables and wit
Bending sentences at will.
Firing ink from a loaded pen.
Makes for good imagery.
As I flap the pages of this notebook.
Dropping tiny daggers with this tongue.
Trying to master the craft of symbolism.
With sarcasm.
Playing with these words like hooked on phonics.
Molding them into a scene.
Of play on words.
With less drama.
Maybe even worth less.
Like pay-less.
As we walk in eachothers shoes.
To better understand the roads we travel.

They call you judgmental yet frown upon you when you are not exactly like them
They try to pick apart any possible reason for an action you take, a mistake that you make
Then boil it down to their own perfect little answer
Their expectations they hold for others can be grueling with how many hurricanes run through your head, though they claim not to ask for much
To act as if they can see right through you can sometimes be their favorite way to pass time, though  of course they don’t know half of it
The strong vibes of arrogance and judging glances they shoot behind your back are enough to suffocate you, but you choose to hold it together with a smile
Until the weakness returns, where you break down and shake
You try to place words together in your mouth, your poems, in your eyes, your soul, anything.. but the largest part of you screaming out remains silent
To expect to be fully understood by another is foolish  
For their selfishness and their narrow way of thinking are evidently highly prominent
And far too many complications are forever involved
The attempts to silent your mind  unfortunately prove to be futile
A cigarette, one drink after the other take away the gnawing pain that will eternally make its presence known
Moments of happiness turn dark as ash ever so quickly
To laugh at oneself, to lose one’s mind is hauntingly easy enough
In a world where no one truly knows your name.

I have questions I’ll never get to ask
Answers I desperately need to hear
Thoughts seeping then escaping
So rarely any resonating

I drink more than I should,
Believe more if I could,
Die in your arms, wish I would
Guess I’m just misunderstood

Laughter turns to anger in my throat.
Senses scrambled when I need them the most.
Don’t you know we’ll all die alone?
Recognize emptiness in your bones

I swear more than I should,
Trust you more if I could,
Transcend doubt, wish I would
Purposely misunderstood

Chances left on the table like scraps
Another time we’ll never know
Things like this change everything
Sacrifice one for another again

I lie more than I should,
Love in full if I could,
Be young and free, wish I would
Always just misunderstood

so cold
exterior bold
rumours told
secrets unfold
lies sold
hidden behind a thick mould
skin glistening like honey and gold
a man who reads
carrying a face never been read before

boring eyes
running on lies
under charm's disguise
empty room echoes lonesome cries
the only time he really dies
arbitrary lover of oscar wilde
broken ships and sunken ties
a man made of melodies
whose words are not able to harmonize

dishevelled curls and defeated smile
towards love and affection, very hostile
running on drugs to escape into exile
enclosed diaries capturing alternate lifestyles
treasured on the corner aisle
soul left in fair isle
a kind of quiet so worthwhile
a man who laughed at his mother's death
misunderstood in being a person so vile.