There are always those whom cross our path,
That leave us asking why.
And those whom come our way,
And leave us with a big and empty sigh.
I have seen and felt the good and the bad,
Whether by my hand or someone else's.
Some I can get over and live,
And others whom have my heart and it goes awry.
I bleed so easily to those heartbreakers,
When I just want to give.
Is love simply captured and toyed to the point of disposition?
Or is it a lie told to gain more?
I have been childish in some areas of my life,
Running and hiding for my convenience.
And being so foolish in the process,
That I still am.
Have I been so foolish not to see?
Things that should be apparent to me,
Lost in the question whom the answer flees from.
I in that am in an end of sorts,
But then again maybe not so.
All in all that is where my mind is time to time,
And that in its certainty is unlikely to change.

The pale night and the ghastly wind upon the skin,
And shiver by the sliver of ice needle pierce through the bone,
For this is the essence one felt by the beauty of words injected into the lungs.

Fluffy snow illuminates as the tunes become entwined by the inner beats,
And from flakes to crystals shattered like hammer onto ice,
Such is the force of all of whom dealt with love and war.

Nothing is but a straight line to a journey unwritten,
For bumps and bruises are only a flesh wound you would nod with a smile,
And all is but the fairness of the bloom of petal to yet another summer.

At least five a day! Stop smoking!
Enough messages to fatten a
health  freak, sprinkling my consciousness
like drizzle pimpling a window pane.

On Dali time - I wander
a nightmare hall of mirrors.
My watch slow, slow - marching
past the appointment hour.

Incubating my ***** sample,
I watch a young man bending forward
like a scribe studying his text.
Someone silently mouthing
her missal or her shopping list.

Ping! Will William Shaw
please go to room five.
Back to the slow march.
Please let me be next.

"So how do you feel about
Not being invited to your sister's wedding?"
Such was the question he had asked one Saturday in his kitchen.
It was a tactless premise to
The dispelling of his unwanted wisdom
For such was his manner
Of seeking ways to tell us all how best for us to do
"Thus and so,"
Even in matters that he knew not
Hence the thoughtless question
Which yes, he actually asked
Causing them to flinch in pain at the recollection
That they had been so wilfully forgotten
By someone whom they both loved dearly

He told me
wine and cigars
won't get me far
I agree,
but it helps minimize the scar.

She told me
I was too confused
and addicted to being used
I agree,
I've grown fond of abuse.

Mom told me,
I quit too much
and can be ungrateful
I agree,
my sadness makes me hateful.

I told me self
quit focusing on others
and fix yourself
I agree,
I don't need nobody else.

good days are when moments stand out
but not alone
there are others to share it with
the good times
even in bad times we share with others
those we know
being there for us makes it easier to deal with
and bring us to better place during difficult moments

sometimes i regret almost,
most things,
most thoughts
and,
most actions,

but,
my feelings,
are what I regret,
more than anything,
else in the world,

and,
sorry I can't,
fix the damage,
I've done,

to you,
others,
and,
to myself.