I will walk until I feed the soil with my bones
and I will not stop for food or water
as I do not need these things for where I aim to go.

I will not look back at who I leave behind,
at who will age and crumble where they stand
as these statues do not line the halls of where I aim to rest.

The years will pass beneath my feet like dreams within my sleep,
and names will fade from faces and those faces to the distance.
Of all the places they will haunt not one will be my thoughts.

My soul will ware with each desert crossed
leaving pieces of myself at every corner turned
until I walk on bruised and ****** heels leaving crimson prints behind.

The heat will bake my skin, the rain will wash the dust,
and this coat of skin hanging on these bones will fall;
I will be then just my core, only bones outside an empty husk

Bones are brittle and will break, marrow staining resting rocks.
This last effigy will fail, falling forward with momentum
pointing in direction one last time at where I aim to go

I will then be free.

He gives her a wilting rose with thorns —
Fingers crossed and a wry smile.
She suppresses pain and denies truth.
She smiles and says, i love you
Through a sore palm and bleeding fingers

My eyes feel soft now with tears
It's true, my heart can't beat but it works

You're bidding me goodbye for unrequited love
You're sailing into the world, to find love

Ever wondered why I live without a beating heart
It hurts badly now that you're gone
You thought your love was unrequited?

Feel free and live
With my stoic self, I'll still be alive
Without a beating heart.

she succumbs to her own beauty
the way one yields to awesome fate
and carries it like an accidental gem
that she has to learn not to worship

to watch her you'd think it hurt for sure
with no conceited smile for good measure
her true asernal before which suitors wilt
is the stoicism of her serene countenance

she lends credence to roadside philosophies
based on the assertion that beauty and grace
are accidents of biology and heritage
and takes no credit for such accomplishments

a woman is beautiful even when the straits are dire
and days are darkest in the most depraved of places
she weeps silent tears when her children are hungry
and they gorge themselves on her loveliness and sleep

tomorrow being another day she struggles anew
and conquers hard reality with feminine creativity
and no matter how hard ill-fortune lacerates her
her delectable contours and carriage still shine through

she has no false pride though she's a pearl of great value
and is forever the stoic beauty driven by the calmness
of the aesthetic tremours of her bewitching gait
in the shadow of a moon rising on the horizon

woman you're nature's rival in beauty and depth

Your morbid reassurance to a impractical salutation hurts us both.
sleeping outside is gonna get us sick.
Your insecurities lead you to my confidence that sank us both to vulnerability.
Not only did you abuse my well being, you drained it.
Look at my victimizing face and tell me this isnt your fault. It takes two to devastate one.
We both deserve to sleep in the same bed
Come inside
We have a stoic endurance for each other.
You're not wrong for anything

I feel cold as life washes by.
Colder than if I had died.
Even in the flames of hate I warmed slowly.
Back then my hate was simply growing.
Then the burning left. Again I was lonely.
Colder than a stone in ice is how I am.
I think of those flames and I feel them again.
Charred black but suddenly red hot.
Remembering what I wish I'd forgot.
All I am is a stone.
More so than flesh and bone.

This is for the stoic
No one asks if they're okay
They really wish to hear that question
Somedays

This is for the kind
They smile wave and applaud
Just imagine all the pain
That hides behind their walls

This is for the silent
Not only voices do they hide
But everybodys secrets
Bottled up inside

I don't know who this is for
Have it if you so desire
This one may be your kindling
To your inner fire

They say machines are built not born. By definition a machine is an apparatus using or applying mechanical power and having several parts, each with a definite function and together performing a particular task. So what separates a machine from a human? Most would say a heart, a brain, a soul. The ability to have compassion and morals. As a human what happens when all those aforementioned are lost? Think about the movie The Wizard of Oz. We have a woman, Dorothy who, in her journey, helps a lion find courage, a tin man find a heart, and a scarecrow find a brain. At the end of the movie all of which are found. Now let's play the movie in reverse. Let's say they all started off with the things they lacked and throughout the journey they lost those things that made them human. In what case would a human lose those things that make them human to begin with? Maybe disaster or love lost? Events that take place in our lives that eventually break us down to primitive beings in which we go into an autopilot state where survival is the only subconscious focus. We're hand fed drugs to help us cope, block out the bad,  make up for what society thinks we lack. "Chemical imbalance". Highs that make us forget for brief periods that our lives **** and make everything more bearable. If I'm trying to put a barricade between myself and misfortune then I'm also blocking the good that is also trying to enter. I don't get butterflies around the girl I adore anymore because I'm taking medicine to help with anxiety and depression, when before that, she was one of the things that made me forget and helped me cope. She was my high. Now I have shut myself off. Anhedonia sets in. I can't feel anything. Those things that once made me human have now been lost. Thus, a machine is born.

can you spare some change
i could really use a little
get back up on my feet
feel the ground beneath the street
all i got’s this little beat that’s
pushin pulmonary particles through
passages inside me
it’s a losing battle
but i wage it anyway
every day
there’s no point, just a pulse,
just that rhythm driving chemicals
through channels unknown

Don't obsess over the romantics-
shadows of eyelashes
what longing is and means
the way a chest falls
when bad news is heard.
Do anticipate disappointment-
and revel in pleasant surprise
only for the moment it exists.
Understand nothing lasts forever.
Don't give it away all the time.
and form a forcefield- a wall if it wills.
Always focus on the next task at hand.
Stop being so gracious-
and have more ambition,
demands that are either met or excelled,
higher standards.
You are stone until you want to be water.
Trees until you want to be storms.
The mouse until you want to be the owl.