Joy is a
drug,
and I
can't buy it.
More glamorous than
any amount
of *******
but more available
than a breath
of fresh air.
Smiles are
easier to break
than an
Anorexics bones.
Snap,
frowning faces
begin to walk
their steady pace
of
birth to coffin.

I think about it, *******,
And it leads me to this place.
Teeth all clenched and aching now,
From shouting in your face.

I told you, I ******* hate poetry.

But you poets listen, and then you don't.
You can't, you never will,
Touch me with your sentiments,
Dropped at my windowsill.

******* your muse,  her wells of eyes,
Just **** the ***** and be done.
Stiffen readers with the tale,
But don't count me as one.

Your Dulcinea's sweet and, well,
(She's better than the last…)
You're dying for a future now,
Not living in the past.

For sweet Art's sake, a nest of lies,
The poverty of self,
puts You up high and lost, in shadow,
and Pining, on the shelf.

So speak your mind now, if you must,
Aloud, to no avail.
Your nature blind of clever words,
Is always bound to fail.

I woke up with a splitting headache,
I may drink too much but my parents dont need to know that.
I had to forget that wretched evening and it was my only way out.
My reflection was a dissapointment,
as always.
There were no letters with my adress and no messages with my name.
I was starting to act like my father,
it was unavoidable, I know.
But a part of me had no desire in a broken future,
I had cut a sliver of daydreams,
child's play.
But this was reality I was facing.
It wasn't facing,
more like nodding in agreement.
I had no fight left in me.
Nothing to lose.  
Nothing to gain.

Im now falling asleep at my desk,
adjusting for a new day ahead.
We're all adjusting, but no one is actually comfortable.
My arms are spotted with bruises
as the bottle settles my dreary mind.
I dont know how long I can perform this act.
Re-runs aren't appreciated anyway.
So why dont you take me off the air.
Or perhaps,
just shatter me into pieces
on the blood stained
kitchen floor.

Excuse me
For being a little pessimist
But are you forgetting
That everything you do
Since birth until now
Isn't at all
Steps to success
Everything just leads
To the same dark, death

There is ambition, but no motivation
in the mind of "what could I be?"
conflicting thoughts flooding within
unraveling all the negativity
20/20 sight but blinding any vision
and every premature dream becomes only a bruised thought in the mind of a dreary dreamer
there is no way to go,
if you don't know where you're going
losing all hope, but refusing to give up
a walking contradiction
but they still see blurred colors
and enjoy the fog
so they'll keep walking blindly
side to side with their negative thoughts
and that's why they are my favorite
because I too, am one
a kaleidoscope dreamer-
I don't know where I'm going
but I'll know before I'm gone