I dream of a Peach
That's just out of reach

I wish to **** on it's sweet nectar

It's sticky and sweet
brings joy to my feet

and reads high on my comfort detector

When i reach for this treat
I am told to retreat

for I have is not what they are asking

I'm too tall or to short
or i'm not a good sport

so I leave and feel burdened for tasking

The fall does not hurt me
my drive won't desert thee

I'll reach for that peach every time

and once I obtain it
I surely will drain it

Of all the sweet juice that is mine!

And walking in it was a pain,
St\rted as a simple *****,
That was the first step,
Then the other foot got in
Landing on scorpion tail
Barefoot i walked
Always hoping for a better step
I had walked in pain far too long
I couldn't go back to the beginning
Mine was a bed of roses
Not the petals but the thorny bushes
I slept in ache and woke in pain
It was hard to quit after trying for so long
And as my second year dusked
Walking away had become easy
Holding on sometimes hurts
Worse than letting go ever would
Even when you walk away
Pieces of thorns remain in flesh
It hurts like hell
And i wish i had quit earlier!!

A reflection - maybe that is what I see
A replication - maybe that is what I am trying to be

        and as I sit on this back-deck  
        my left foot dangles over the left railing

        and in this midnight the street-light beams with confidence
        and
        as my eyes adjust
        The shadow grows
        Mine or your’s? - I do not know.

A miniature volcano decays between my fingertips
A moment of false peace
    -    a vapor
        come & gone
        a memory shrouded in nicotine
        lying within a bottomless ashtray  
        This is the back-yard landscape    -

I am finally giving up--
on the thought that I am not good enough,
because I fought an arduous battle
to keep the real me intact.

I am done with everything--
that dragged me lower than I already am,
I must keep on going up despite these
rocks that burden my climb.

I am finished living--
in fear of what the ends will be,
because I will start moving forward
and greet the uncertainty with glee.

I am through with saying I can do it--
and start acting upon it.

My friend burns slow
I put her to my lips and draw
then exhale smoke
The tar stains my teeth and lungs.
I enjoy her presence because she makes me feel young.

That first inhale
is like every small joy
wrapped into one neat package,
assembled in a nice, red box
meant just for you.

Flick, flick,
go the ashes,
the end burning brightly
like a firefly on a dim Southern night.

When my lighter blazes
beneath the light drizzle of tonight,
I'm reminded that life
can be so delightfully decadent,
so enchantingly effervescent.

The good times
are made all the sweeter
And the bad times -
the car trouble,
the failures,
and the lost hopes -
lose their edge,
and take on a shape as soft as smoke,
subject to float away with time,
leaving only a sharp smell behind.

I’ve been told many things over the years,
But the one that hurt the most is
“Quit being yourself”
I’ve been told that so many times,
And each time,
I break a little bit more.
My personality is “too strong”
My looks “too boyish”
My thoughts “too sad”
It hurt that people would say that,
When I am constantly told
“Don’t let anyone change you”
But why should I stay the same
When no one likes me?
Nobody talks to me because I'm “intimidating”
Nobody looks at me because I look “depressed”
Nobody cares about me because I’m “too much”
Why can’t I be myself without the judgement I face?
Why can’t I,
Just be what everyone wants?