writing poetry is not easy, in fact your born with it.
some people say i cant do it, i agree.

As i sit here next to my inspiration i think, i think and think

my mind turning and turning just for the idea to come.
WHEN.....

i get the idea I've been looking for.

I often talk about love as an electric emotion
Good or bad fiction
That is still unknown to me
I've seen the worst of this illusion
As real as it is, it _is still a fiction

I often talk about pain
because am dying to open up  but i can't
so i to write my poems  
to be content, to be peaceful

I wanna feel you tonight,
don't want to be on my own
Just let me be your freak,
and spin the wheel tonight

We are,we are who we are
We are that who we are
We are just those crazy people

Don't worry about diamond
it left me in pieces
shining in blisters
that stranger with hiccups
in death you rest in pieces

I'm craving your initials in trees and writing your name on notebooks.
My heart thumps and thumps and thumps and sometimes I think it's only because of you- you're so out of my league and I'm so ******* sad all the time because my heart is beating for you but I bet I don't even cross your mind.
I hate being the one who loves more, or the one who loves at all. I'm tired of giving my everything away to people who don't even care- but you, God, I can't keep myself from giving it all to you. I can help but hope one day you'll want me and it's killing me, but I'm not walking away; I rather die close to you than far.

Tell me about the garden again,
        tell me this is our last night on earth and you just want to know that it's real
                                tell me fairytales. Tell me
this is everything you've ever dreamed of
                 and more.
Kiss me with whiskey lips and cigarette teeth
                        kiss me like you'll never have a chance to kiss someone again. I want to feel you. I want to taste callous remarks
        on your tongue
                 give them to me, give me everything and then give me more. Sing to me
                                write me ten thousand sonnets and recite them
        ignite everything we've ever been.
                                                              This is your chance. Tell me about
                         the vines.
Tell me a thousand things, and more, and more. Drink me in, like this,
                sprawled out on your bed, laughing like it's the end of the world. We don't have much time.
                                       Let's end it all, hangman's rope and a burning will,
        or let's stay a little longer.
I want to hear your voice again. Tell me how we're ruined.
                Tell me how I'm ruining you,
                                        and how you love it.
Tell me about tomorrow.
                                                        It's the only one we have left.

Not a single material thing will ever
make me happy

Not even **love

It's a zero moon night,
And the City still burns bright enough
to steal the stars from the sky.
Like space Ain't got nuthin in it!

Only the Radio Red Eyes
twinkle in their towers for me,
Playing airial scarecrows
For the Jet-Set.

Worry so **** much about the skyline
that you Forgot about the Sky!
Taking men off the moon
so you can run the lights,
so that your building looks nice,
For when whoever else is up
at 1:00 A.M. E.S.T.,
comes barreling down through
the cut in the hill
to finally feast their eyes
on the city that never wakes up.

I'm Never gonna see Mars at this rate.