if people were love notes
none of us would be lonely anymore
if people bled passion
we would laugh at heartache

You invited me out
With your best friend.

I rejected because I only
Wanted to hang out
With you.

You stopped texting me.
I assumed you got high.

In return, I got drunk.
I stumbled into the shower,
And the memories flooded
Into my mind.

This is the type of relationship
I fear the most.

With manly aggravations he strums-

Strums the rust and the anguish away from the strings.

I saw them, floating away from him; vibrating in midair

Those compositions from his melancholy days,

Echoing...

The notes have, somehow, reverberated through my cathedral soul-

I can feel them.

I could still locate the ringing at the ceiling of my skull.

And if I wish to
I could even feel the faint tremors in my heart-

And realize it's actually pulsating...

But surely, it's just an after shock from the sounds resonating

It would fade away.

Of course it will just fade away.

It would fade away the moment he
stops playing.

Note to self:
When you see a narrow path that looks rough and a field with an infinite amount of space, do not (under any circumstance) let temptation drive you away from the well-lit path, into some dimly lit field.
When you see love standing alone in the rain, bring it inside of your home.
Take it in and make it your own.
This is how you will not fail in letting your troubles slowly glide down a well to where they can no longer be seen.
If you do not see them then you will not know them like the back of your hand any longer.
The moment you adopt the kind of love that you once thought was far too distant and incredibly somber, you will find change, hiding in a corner waiting to be found.
Do not look past this change, it will run and hide somewhere else like a child, if you choose to deny its presence.
Listen to me when I say that change can come in different forms so you must not be so set in your ways that accepting something completely out of the ordinary, clouds your thoughts and puts you in some sort of a daze where you cannot take a breath and just accept things as they come to you.
Love and change will send you on your way to happiness, but you are going to hit some pebbles every now and then. This is how you grow.

Remember to always indulge in curiosity.

Let the ideas of the world flow all around your roots as you shed and become anew. You will always continue to grow, even on the days where your sun is not shining as bright or even at all. You must not let those days fade your love and make you seem like you have lost change forever.
Storms of rage are bound to pound at your door, especially whenever love has become you. In these times, stand with truth by your side, love in your heart, and mighty strength in your fists. When the door swings, you swing back.
This is how you live whenever you think you cannot live any longer.
This is how the fury of the darkness receives some of your light in order to create a balance in your life.
Note to self: You are not made to live easy, but it is true that you are made from the stars to create a significant mark in the universe and that is far more beautiful and far more important than the tiny troubles that you allowed once to wind around your body and pull you back into the ground from which you rose from long ago.
Finally, if you see hope fleeting high above you, climb a mountain to reach it. Do not ever let it go.

I hear the suicide note, it lullabies my motions
into the erratic switches from the highs and lows.

The melody of that connection that i murmur
in contested reflections. I want to bleed that chorus.

Wanting this to be expelled from my ballad of
speculation, and stem the tears of desolation that cut.

Singing the suicide note off key,  I know what I'm
debating towards and others hear my mourning.

I write the notes down to expel this louder than
reality notion and then I walk into the other room.

Don't feel sorrow or pain, this was a song that I had
been humming for longer than most now I hear none.

"My song is silent the notes are still,
"This chorus has run its moment,
*"But this song ended and I faded out,

And so here it is:
My secrets, my fortune!
The untold treasure harbored within my mind--
impeccable wisdom, and tormented genius!

I come to find illumination
and write poems--
in such a fashion as this:

It is I,
with heart on my sleeve
where I cough and sneeze,
becoming mired and virulent--
utterly human and fraught
for the world to see.

The magician who empties his sleeves,
overturns his top hat,
shying off his smooth pallid gloves!

Lies down on stage,
in a pool of my own blood and *****,
retching, trembling, aching,

gasping for air
roasting under an inquisitive lonely spotlight
I stare into
with a distant and longing gaze--

Eyes vacuous,
bulbous in sick contortion bulging veins popping
cracked lips gaping mouth tongue waggling speaking in tongues
choking air and body trembling in hideous convulsions--

for what benefit have I,
to purport and distort myself
in such a fashion?

It is for the sake of humanity,
in the flagellation of the human conscience
as it queries further
into the ambiguous amorphous impalpable
dark matter of the universe--

it is for our sake,
our illumination,
that I retch, and I ache.

Take note.

12 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I never knew that hearts could get played like grand pianos do.
The notes are exquisite but the pain and heartbreak are obviously not.
Maybe it is true; maybe my love is as bad as my handwriting is.
Maybe that explains why past lovers never had the patience to stay.
Maybe I’m slowly going a bit crazy and need you to gather some positive words to say.
Because honestly speaking, that’s something I could really use right now.
You’re a flower blooming in a world full of concrete walls; it’s wonderful watching you grow.
But somehow we still have bad blood between us like sickle-cell anaemia.
Loving you was like smoking a pack of cigarettes – you took my breath away but you were slowly killing me inside.
I never knew that hearts could get played like harps and violins do.
The symphony is exquisite but the pain and heartbreak are obviously not.
Maybe it is true; maybe my love is as bad as my handwriting is.
Maybe that explains why past lovers never had the patience to stay.
Maybe I’m slowly going a bit crazy and need you to gather some positive words to say.
Because that’s something I could really use right now instead of having you spewing words of hate.

Why are we all so afraid of listlessness? Making the pin ***** but afraid of to bleed. Aimlessly wandering when we are not assigned to something. Always asking "what do I do now? Where Should I go?"
We are money hungry, complaining of lack of money when we do not act upon trying to make money. Complaining of dead end jobs when we could quite possibly do anything we desire. We are afraid to waste our time on dire things such as education and intelligence, welfare of others, and finding ourselves so we succumb to an ordinary life of living as others.
We are afraid to jump off the buildings, open the doors of perception, to be alive and breathe and bleed.
Afraid to come in touch with daily emotions, such as love (if that exists) and hate. Over analyzing of emotions break us down, to believe our own minds are corrupt. Being wide eyed and curious is now shunned and put down.
The cuts and bruises and scars we bear are to be covered, overbearing the experiences and emotion we feel.
We are no longer enlightened and instead put in the dark.
But not me. I am myself, I am a soul, a spiritual being, made of earth and stardust and filled with holy particles.
I am myself and my mind is not corrupted.
Like

Don't sing your life in falsetto
Just to reach a higher tune

There's nothing wrong with being mellow
It doesn't mean you'll catch the blues

But maybe rolling along the lines
A flat made you a minor key

You only need a few more notes
To turn it 'round to harmony

But what is music really
But a few notes on a page

Just because you're an old hymn
Doesn't mean you have to age

Maybe this is just too much
To say in just one song

Just because you're life isn't Beethoven
Doesn't mean it's wrong