the cracking concrete stairway practically reeks darkness
this is the entrance to the labyrinth.
step by step constantly downward until the sliver of sun that you always thought would be visible has finally disappeared
and left nothing but the blinking of the dim artificial light broken by time.
the warmth you surely felt outside has been leeched away
leaving a constant chill to raise the hairs on your arms
every time the ghost of a subway train emerges from the depths of the tunnels to all sides.
crude steel and fissured tiles paint the portrait of the lives that have passed through here
the tracks making no distinction between foreigner and local as they dole out their fates.
and every rushing train blurring the shadowy lights of the tunnel
reaffirms your suspicion that this is a vessel through a vortex in disguise as a breaking down train.
and as the doors slide open once the wheels lock and screech in agony until the momentum is stopped,
take caution
for the city you exited from into the subway
may not be the same you’ll enter here.

Why is it that soldiers are trading dog tags for hospital beds and body bags?
Why are graduates gambling away their lives through drugs and alcohol?
Why is it that we have to keep moving on like things are okay? Like this isn't as messed up as the news make it sound
Why is it that teenage girls are playing a game of rullet with their bodies; like teen pregnancy is just a myth
Why are young kids that have expierenced true pain not acknowledged; like their hurt is not worthy of being praised
"They don't know true pain. They're just kids"
Oh but their pain is just as real as yours.
Why do we rely on relationships to help us feel whole?
Like happiness is received through the lips of another and love is something guarantied
Why are we knocked down by all that is wrong with the world just so someone can say "get up"?
How many people have to leave are lives while we are dreaming of the memories only certain minds can relate?
How many times are we supposed chock on last goodbyes due to illnesses that don't have cures?
How many kids are going to be left with out parents? Sisters? Brothers? How many kids are going to be orphens of the world that has turned them down time and time again?
How many?
How many kids will leave all of their faith in fictional characters, in superheros, until they are shown the justice that they have longed for?
What level of the word "racist" are we supposed to reach before something is actually done to stop it?
Its not really the number of problems I'm looking for
What I really want to know is how many people are going to take a stand to actually stop these things?

Can you, please, not call me?
Let my mind be free
I need some time alone
And a place that I can call my own
I want everyone to go away
I want some silence for at least a day

The sun may not rise, for all I care, at all
I’ll ignore every call
I’ll pretend I don’t exist
And I’ll delete every call I’ve missed
I’ll imagine that the world has died
And that I’ve finally comitted my suicide

Oh, and at the end, how good I’ll feel
Even though I know it isn’t real
I’ll just pretend that all is dream
And my eyes again can start to gleam
Just like then, for sure
When everything seemed pure

I just want to close my eyes
Until the dead ones rise
And I can join them then, at last
With everything but with my past

So I’m begging you, don’t make a blunder
Do not call me, just lose my number

I noticed you afar in your tainted uniform and deeply ironed apron.
When you walked with swagger and a little confidence, your dark hair stayed in place and reflected from your sunrise brown eyes.
Straight shoulders that arched your back and showed the bottom of your rose tattoo on your right bicep.
You approached me with that cocky charming waiter boy attitude,
sparkling white teeth and cunning smile.
Definitely a University boy
Can't be no older than 22
I slipped in a couple questions along with my order.
Are you local?
college boy?
I'm not an expert at flirting and you can probably tell that I haven't before.
You went easy on me.
"I board at the University ten blocks from here, but live three blocks from the diner. I crash at my mom's occasionally, but I like college."
You made it look like you were doing work by filling up sugar canisters.
I was enjoying the coffee too much.

It was 2:45.
You got off at 3.
I grabbed a pen and wrinkled napkin on the corner of the table.
I dotted my "I"s with stars and wrote 10 digits meticulously with a steady right hand.
You handed me the check and walked cooly back to the cash register.
Time was ticking, but I didn't want to be desperate.
I flicked my long straight black hair to my shoulder so it could bring out my eyeliner.
I walked to the register and nochalantly gave you the check.
I smiled and gave you the tip.
You threw the tip aside as the register flung open and held the written napkin in the light.
I walked out in confidence and exactly at 3:00.

There's nothing more relieving than when a girl gives you a number...

That's actually hers!

Deep thoughts lurk within
Mind's eye blurry from age
A wise young pupil

Dear number five, with my hand I count,
Twice in fact, without a doubt.
To my birthday, February herewith,
It is indeed upon the fifth.

Dear number five, you do so mean,
Foot long sandwiches for one to dream.
3.14159, in pi you do arrive,
Among Fibonacci you do so strive.

Dear number five, you have begun,
Histories with a long run:
Karl Marx was born; a Mexican independence;
US/SR tested nukes; all which men were in attendance.

Dear number five, with Lincoln it so bares,
His proud, pensive face, a dollar shares.
Cinco, viis, wu, cinq, go, fem,
In different languages does your usage stem.

Dear number five, I must say adieu,
You’re much more than numbers, such as two,
And as I leave you my simple twenty line poem,
Remember the writer who sat here and wrote ‘em.