Broken bottle friends, some call it social alcoholism
Everyone’s famous, for the night at least
The value of signatures
Listed above names on bar receipts
Drug dealers playing in the street, what some might call shamanism
All it really is, just an eclectic collectivism
That leads to remarkable nights that aren’t remembered
Realizations that problems are just and our lives dredge on
Invincible for the night
Or perhaps
Just brave enough to embrace ones true self

We talked
enjoyed each others' company
and we talked more...

Later I got bored
and made excuses
to get away from you

I thought having you
in life
is a trouble

But you would
spend your life
talking to me

We got separated
I was finally relieved...
but...now I miss you
I now know your real value
      Forgive me....

Trillions of miles away
shines a star.
It's hot and dense
and glows violet.

This star has never been
photographed.
All we would see
would be a white dot.

Those that observe are
inadequate,
to realise it's true
depth of beauty.

Beside me on this bus
shines a star.
He is warm and kind
and radiant.

This star has no fame
or fortune.
He is not yet valued
appropriately.

One day the first star
will explode.
A multitude of colours, light,
and beauty.

I know that soon he will
be set alight.
And show the world
his true value.

we live in the morning between smoking rooms
hanging underneath blankets
 soaked in glue

   we always climb that ladder           
       towards a higher value
     or maybe a better purpose

     sometimes we will laugh along
      and break down in the same week                    
        flashing everyone cracks hiding
           in private places

we've told you before
i'll say it again                  
the
  sun
    will
      not
      guide
         you.

I am in between the realms of death and living
I have grown to accept the magnificence of the afterlife and what lies along that path
I romanticize about my flesh being eaten and my skin being burnt
And I dream of a life worth living, trips I wish I could document and capture with my vision
I plan to store towers of written events, and the ink will be the blood released from the slits of my wrists
And I hope I will not run out of ink before my feet land on the concrete and the soil I will soon to be
I aim to breathe a life of expectancy and my goal is to become the earth and the waters that serve as coverage
I want to be thought of as I am still living, and I want to be remembered as I enter into deep slumber of a casket that bears such aesthetic
For that, I like to believe that we are all works of art
We are walking and breathing future statues, but in death we will ebb into the dirt
As of now, our ribs are the servants, bones that are built to cage valuable possessions
So let us continue to breathe and live, and for the remaining years, let us anticipate for what comes after
But right now, you and I are alive, and that's all that matters

n.j.

Often time riddled with questions and philosophies of those days of professor's lecture in college campuses, and to this day have not forgotten my lessons in those class rooms of social, or psychological behaviors.

Does truth always equate to goodness of righteous path,
Or is it the belief of one's faith that dictate what truth should be?

If so then does truth sincerely matter and should it be forced like mathematical equations with one singular answer, or come in terms that truth is in the eyes of beholder?

Like the internet sensation that brought debate of the color of the dress,
What is truth to you maybe wrong to others, so then does truth matter?

As grains fall from the hour glass,
I become more convinced that arguing for the "right" way is as much of a joke to those who see you wrong for your choices!

Sometime laughing at the indifference maybe the golden rules of life,
For lies, and truth is in the measurement of experiences!
Sometimes giving a warm smile is end all and be all!