**** this wall
this godforsaken tower of bricks
with my every move and motion
the mountain stretches and shifts
I step right
it follows
I step back
it swallows
I turn my head up and wallow
at this wall that controls me
it's not that I can't move forward
it's just that I can't go anywhere else
this wall is just a road block
so I must get off this road
and where the new one will take me?
nobody knows

I came to a fork in the road
I took it
for a few steps
then wandered back to where the road split
I wondered about the repercussions
how each affected life
finally I took the first
which lead me to my wife

Do you realize how badly I want to be you
how I would **** to be in your position?
to have the responsibilities
that you are so quick to ignore
you are destined, you are divine
you are the chosen one!
a prophecy passed down for centuries
proclaims you to be a demi-god
and you want to **** that all away
you want to run from all of that
and why? because you think you're not good enough?
WELL YOU'RE NOT
i'll say it
but here you have a chance to do something
something great and necessary.

I would **** to be you.

And typed them on a page
no filter just complete
sunken rage
no rhyme scheme anymore just lines
one after another
I'm scared I'll never satisfy a woman
not only sexually but intellectually
professionally, physically
I'm afraid I let the right person go
and now they won't come back
I'm scared that we only get one shot at life
and I'm blowing it by typing on a computer in my bed
I'm scared Ill die old
a corpse of unfulfilled potential
instead of a young body filled with it
I'm scared I'm the only that thinks about
these things and the only one
I can talk about these things with
is my therapist who doesn't want to hear
about them anyway
so I tell her that I am happy
I am scared because I don't always feel this way
some days weeks months go by where I don't think about writing
and I swear in that time I'm happier
so what is it about depression that bring my pen to the page
I'm scared that I use poetic metaphors to cloak actual feelings
I'm scared that someone whose opinion I value will read this and think less of me
I'm scared that one day down the road I'll come back to this
for the first time
but I'll close the tab before it opens
and go scroll through twitter or facebook
or instagram
because sometimes it's easier to just not feel for a little bit
I'm scared that I'm waiting for a moment that will never come
I'm scared to go to the gym so I've forced myself to be content with my body
which is fine but it isn't as good
as it could be
and that's all on me
I'm scared that I'm my greatest enemy
and also my greatest friend
and maybe both want me to fail
because sometimes it feels good to let yourself rest on your own shoulder

There. All out.

People only like you when it's convenient,
true
People only like you when it's convenient
to.
Not your family,
true
but only them because they have
to.
Don't laugh at this you know it's
true
They're not with you when you need them
to.
When you're dark and cold and stormy,
true
They cheer for the islands they're whisked away
to.

Even you,
true
The one I was there for, when you needed me
to.
Even when I didn't want to be,
true
I would have scaled a thousand mountains
to
Get to you.
True.
I guess it never mattered
to
you.
True.
You say you'll be there for me, but I don't trust you
to.

I like things that are ugly
Like dirt
but not the nice dirt
you know the kind lightly sticks to wrists
the kind that you can easily wipe off
not that kind
I like the ugly kind
the seep into your shoes kind
the ruin a wardrobe kind
the type of dirt that you didn't know a second ago
but the type you'll know for years to come
I like things that are ugly
like a broken pool cue
but not the nice kind
the one with the decent tip
the one that we all call "old reliable"
not that one
I like the shattered one
the one we fear will break each time
the kind that all the chalk in the world couldn't mend
I like things that are ugly
Like an unmade bed
but not the nice kind
the ruffled sheets that beckon you to enter
not that kind
I like my blankets strewn about
the pillow cases stained with ketchup
the overwhelming sense of discomfort
those are the beds I like
I like things that are ugly
Like a crying girl
but not the pretty one alone on a bus
crying about some boy from some town
wishing she remembered how it felt before she'd loved
not that kind
I like the kind that are shaken, disheveled
unfinished puzzles beckoning to be solved
but fully aware they came without all the pieces

I like things that are Ugly

Even if we were meant to be
I know you'd skip over me
like apple seeds

Everything happens for a reason
Said one man to another
that’s ******* you know he responded
and even if that was so
should it be some consolation
should I be amazed by the worlds complexity?
should I applaud the interwoven madness
if the one left out is me?


Does a bull admire a matador’s technique?
Does a building admire the strength of a wrecking ball?
Tell me why the system is great
why I should care about the meaning behind it all
what you have is what you love
and I could never love a theory
I believe in the material
because it’s the only thing my eyes can see


Tell me why my wife died
Was it to save a thousand lives?
because I would **** a thousand more
for one more look into her eyes
Maybe her death
somehow saved my life
well one day I will die
without the comfort of my wife


That’s all it really is my friend
a celebrated rain delay
God’s in his high chair
choosing who will go and who will stay
but eventually we will all leave
despite all the magic this universe has to offer
you believe in faith sir
but sadly I am bogged down in fact


The man was choked up
as he searched for words to answer the other
I did not know your babies mother
but my son did
She pushed him to safety from a car
taking the impact that was meant for him
so while I'm sorry for your loss friend
there is a reason behind everything

I wonder what I'll see right before I die
Not the moments flashing bright
nor the memories passing by

I mean the last thing
the image that I'll see
the feelings it'll bring

Will it be a neat summary of things I've seen
or perhaps a dying shout
at what things could have been

Or maybe it will be nothing at all
just a slab of concrete
after one long fall

To write a love song
you need to love
with a feeling as pure
as the white fur of a dove
clean as a whistle
sharp as a knife
with the vision of a psychic
to make her your wife

A boy and his father sat by a lake
fishing rods in the water
but no conversation in the air
the dad asked what he learned in school
the boy said nothing
as his hook remained afloat
ok the dad said
but one day ill be gone and you'll wish you had told me

That boy became a teen
concerned with bigger things
like girls and homework
and designer jeans
he had his first date
but declined to tell his dad
that's fine the dad said
but one day ill be gone and you'll wish you had told me

that boy became a man
who had a little trouble getting on his feet
he was afraid to go home
to the parents that raised him
he felt his failures were a disappointment
so he said he was fine alone
just know the dad said
one day ill be gone and you'll wish you had told me


That man landed a better job
and met the woman he loved
now he was secure
and everything was ok
He picked up the phone
and had so much to say
but it turns out that day
was one day

It was the first time I had fallen in love on a Tuesday
The crimson skies played tongue hockey
with cumulus clouds that begged so heavily
to be carried into the night

It was a feeling that produced so much awe
that it was necessary
for it to dissipate
within the blink of an eye

I never got your name
that doesn't matter
Bees know not the name of nectar
just that they need it to live

It was raining when you left me
each drop fighting to hit the ground first
in some cosmic sign
that maybe the destination meant more than the journey

Sometimes I feel
the only one that wants me to stop and smell a rose
is my nose
everyone else is content to let me pass by

I'd never stopped to speak to the old lady
at the end of the street
but I did today
and I'm glad I did

Because her eyes showed me
that below her face-scarf a smile hid
It's not always superman that saves someone's world
but who would watch that movie?

My mind is stuck on an endless loop
of play then stop then rewind
I tend to linger on one moment
although I'm not sure why... perhaps it's because


           It was the first time I had fallen in love on a Tuesday

lemonade stained table tops
caramel crusted counters
slightly chipped glasses
and twice used napkins
                                          neatly placed
                                          and set for two
                                          even though you're gone
                                          I can't eat without you

here is an anniversary letter
addressed to you
I think ours was last week
chances are this is past due
consider this my vow of affection
for what I write in these next 30 lines
will be my most sincere of words
even if I spoke a billion times

you are not the last thing on my mind
before I go to sleep
or the first thing
when I awake
I do not lust for you like Juliet
your Romeo I'll never be
but Romeo is dead
and I'm as happy as can be

I've loved before
and trust me it's no fun
constant musing about the future
how this one is really "the one"
it's a trial as old as
the woman who's teeth no longer function
love is love is love is...
love is much to do about nothing

and then I found you
with brown eyes and brown hair
simple as the letter k
eyes that looked but didn't stare
maybe you love me
although I hope you don't
maybe you'll think of marriage
although I hope you won't

In Conclusion
I'll bid you adieu
I am not in love with you
and that's what I love most about you
#

We lost you 10 days ago.

On the first day
I had just gotten my old job back
I walked into the main office
And told everyone how nice it was to see them again
Then I went back into my office
And heard you had passed
I flew home that night

On the second day
I tried to rest, recover the sleep I had missed  on the first
I couldn’t
My family wanted to go out to eat
I told them I couldn’t leave my room

On the third day
I got to see the friends we grew up with
Some I hadn’t seen in five years
We sat at a table for four
I kept looking to the open space to my right expecting to see you in a chair

On the fourth day
I bought a suit for your funeral
It had been so long that none i owned fit me
You would’ve thought I looked nice
You would have told me that

On the fifth day
I spent a night in your apartment
Surrounded by people that loved you
Some that loved me
I stood in your room and lingered
Our close friend saw me
We held each other and he showed me all the things in your room you had taken from him
I told him about an orange shirt you had taken from me because it was too large
We pulled out an orange shirt from a pile, thinking we had found it
It was a different shirt

On the sixth day
I got to see your face for the last time
I focused on your hands
because they looked how I remembered
I got to see you be put in the ground
I got to see my first love there
We hadn’t spoken in years
She told me she was married
I told her that was nice to hear
I spoke to your father, he had to be reminded of who I was
He hadn’t seen me since I was 8
But once he remembered
We spoke and we laughed
I spoke to your mother
I thanked her for moving to our town, I thanked her for you
I told her about all the good you brought to my life
She said I did the same for you

I cried that day and every day prior

On the seventh day I bought a flight back to Los Angeles for that night
I spent Mother’s Day with my family
I ate bad Greek food
We had to pull over next to a Wawa for me to use the restroom
I took the flight home
Normally I would have called a taxi but I asked my roommate to pick me up
You had introduced me to him
He used to sublet your room in our old apartment
I told him about the last seven days
I didn’t cry once

On the eighth day
I returned to work
Back for good I told them
I told my boss I ordered shakshuka for lunch because it was the last thing I ate with you
She said  she was considering the chopped salad

On the ninth day
Most of the same things happened
I spoke to the close friend who was still grieving in New York
I told him things would improve once he left the city
I saw my girlfriend who is recovering from a torn acl
She’s prescribed medication to help with her pain
I couldn’t stop asking her why I didn’t feel worse

On the Tenth day
I made a mistake at work
One that will likely never rear its ugly head
It’s the worse i’ve felt in 4 days
Sometimes I wish I could live in the pain I felt when I lost you
There nothing could hurt me
There nothing could be worse
You are gone and each day that passes you will be gone a little longer
And each day I will feel a little better
And I worry I may hate myself for that

There is a girl in my third grade class
named Anna Lamay
she always sits at my table
except not for today

I do not like
this Anna Lamay
my teacher put her at my table
and made her stay

I screamed and yelled
not Anna Lamay!
I was stuck with her
to my absolute dismay

she is not like you and me
this Anna Lamay
dumb as a stump
with a face like a tray

I let her know
I Hate You Anna Lamay!
I followed her footsteps
and told her day after day

Her mom said it was bullying
I said you made Anna Lamay!
and that is much worse
I must say

But I pretended to like
this Anna Lamay
and played along
up until yesterday

I gave a gun to
little Anna Lamay
and told her to blow
her stupid brains away

I should have done something
Shoulda woulda coulda...
Sorry I picked the wrong one
I COULD have done something

Oh you think that's ******* huh?
You thought your mind was made up?

Well I think that's *******
You didn't tell me you didn't want me
You told me you didn't want to see me
There's a difference
The first implies you do not trust me
While the latter implies you do not trust yourself
Which I found very curious I might add
What could I possibly do other than exist?

I've told you how I feel on numerous occasions
Have you simply forgotten?
Im tired of this
Of Grand gestures that will only fall by the wayside
They didn't built the pyramids with the intention of watching in awe as they crumbled

So why me?

What makes me so special
that you can tell me you've moved on and that you never will all in one breath
Do you realize why that should be impossible?

A friend of mine asked me if I love you

I said yes

He assumed this would make everything simple
Go get what your heart desires!
But why?
Who cares?
If I convince you to love me back we both know it will only be for a day
And so then what would you have me do?
Spend the rest of my days proving my love to you?

I am not Prince Charming
You will not find shining armor underneath my button down

I guess it all comes back to what I said before
I know it's not much and I know it's all I have
But I love you
And I don't know if that matters to you or if it's enough or if you care
But that's what I've got
I could write you a thousand songs
But it won't make me love you anymore
I'd start a war for you if it could mean I would love you more
But that is not possible

What your asking me to do cannot be done
For what I feel for you now will never grow as you expect it to
Because you can not add onto infinity
So although yes logically I know I COULD say something
I bear the burden of being the only one that knows I can't

I have a
scar on my
left forearm that
reminds me of you

not that I
cut myself or
anything like that
it's more of a mistake

than anything
I was making penne
pasta in one of those large
black pots that every family has

in one cabinet or
another and I boiled it
so it was really hot so I could
eat which was the entire point of

the whole process
but I couldn't stop thinking
of you, your honey-wheat hair
that could pass for spaghetti if you

wanted it to
but you never did so
you always straightened it
I think that's when I was thinking

of when I
poured in the pasta
too quick and burned my arm
you were time consuming so much so

that I couldn't remember
what I had been doing the whole time
because unfortunately I couldn't help but be stuck on
you

Why do i still care is probably too simple a question
it implies an easy answer like “her eyes” or “her smile”
but it isn’t that
it’s not love at least not yet i’m too young
so it isn’’t that
think think think
there’s been other girls
four in fact
but what did they not have?
what were they missing
what made them Roseline and not Juliet
does “it” exist? it’s possible i guess
maybe nothing tangible could account for what i’m feeling
i doubt it but it’s a possibility
So what is it?
Seriously(tension builds)
Maybe it’s because you still care
sure I only know because of the grapevine
but i’ll just assume it still counts


I refuse to believe im the Pip to your Estella
I’d like to believe I have too much pride for that
Pride pride pride
maybe that’s the answer
I messed you up pretty good the first time
but then again you did win round 2
so maybe it’s just a game
a game my mind is just set on finishing


Maybe you’re just evil
crazy i know
really crazy
lunatic crazy
but still is it that crazy a thought?
you say you love me when you don’t
you say you don’t love me when you do
you say you miss us
but somehow “I” am not included


Maybe I have simply ruined you for myself
I’ve built you up in my head
to be something you simply can not live up to
It’s hard to explain but to me at least in my mind
you are a different type of “perfect”
Flawed in all the right ways
proficient where it really matters
In my head you don’t make mistakes
In my head you choose me first so you don’t regret it later
In my head you act rationally
In my head I create fake things


So to answer my question I must decide on an answer
and i choose all of them
because that’s life
that’s what it is
you’ll meet a girl who you feel is perfect for you in every way
except for the fact that she isn’t
and it won’t make sense
and it will drive you crazy
and you’ll write some stupid poem at a late hour trying to find an answer to your question
until you realize it doesn’t matter
because you’re young and she’s young
because there are mistakes to be made
nights to be forgotten
people to meet
places to see
and all the while there is time to sit down
to really ponder and finally come to the conclusion
that You
yes You
are not the one I end up with

Everything happens for a reason
Said one man to another
that’s ******* you know he responded
and even if that was so
should it be some consolation
should I be amazed by the worlds complexity?
should I applaud the interwoven madness
if the one left out is me?


Does a bull admire a matador’s technique?
Does a building admire the strength of a wrecking ball?
Tell me why the system is great
why I should care about the meaning behind it all
what you have is what you love
and I could never love a theory
I believe in the material
because it’s the only thing my eyes can see


Tell me why my wife died
Was it to save a thousand lives?
because I would **** a thousand more
for one more look into her eyes
Maybe her death
somehow saved my life
well one day I will die
without the comfort of my wife


That’s all it really is my friend
a celebrated rain delay
God’s in his high chair
choosing who will go and who will stay
but eventually we will all leave
despite all the magic this universe has to offer
you believe in faith sir
but sadly I am bogged down in fact


The man was choked up
as he searched for words to answer the other
I did not know your babies mother
but my son did
She pushed him to safety from a car
taking the impact that was meant for him
so while I'm sorry for your loss friend
there is a reason behind everything

I miss talking to you
Actually talking
Not just saying "hi" and "sup"
until one of us gets tired of it and stops answering
I miss laying with you
and pretending like there were stars on the ceilings
and pretending that the only two people mattered
were me and you

I miss kissing in the elevator
and in the hallway
and in the stairway
and anywhere really
I miss your nose
how perfect it was
i've never seen anything like it
Im sure I never will

I miss watching you paint
I miss watching you love doing something
it was so cool
I've never seen someone take art so seriously
I miss making you happy
I miss seeing that smile of yours
I miss when you would tell me you loved me
and I wouldn't say it back

I miss when you'd put your head on my chest
and I'd look in your eyes
and I'd just throw my head back
and close my eyes
because at that very moment
what else could I want?
I miss sitting together
and being together

You kissed me
but it felt like you were kissing me goodbye
I mean we had broken up
what did I expect
but
I don't know
I miss talking to you
check that
I miss everything about you

I didn't think something so simple
could move mountains like a glacier
could shape a day like a sculptor
could light a room like a bulb

I thought these things
before I saw you smile

I keep having these memories
of whose I do not know
to whom they do belong to
of this my mind won’t show
will you help me friend
decode the message I have seen
I cannot do this on my own it seems
the walls are caving in
The vision is getting brighter now
while all else slips away
let me tell you of my vision friend
before there is none else I can say



I am driving down the road friend
of this I cannot forget
The road starts shrinking
to as small as it can get
I try to keep my wheels straight
but against my will my grip begins to slip
careening off the road
through traffic cone and traffic cone
suddenly I stop
this is where it gets fuzzy
the man who was next to me is no longer there
he lies in front of my vehicle glass tousled in his hair


This is no confession
for I know I have not sinned
these are not my memories
yet I feel the pain they bring
I am good my friend
I pray, I laugh, I care
I am one of the right ones
I have made it this far and I will make it further
I am what’s right
So why must I see these wrongs
This is not my memory
and I will drink until I believe that

I tried to tell Kyle this
but he hates me
Who can blame him though right?
What a ****** ******* role model I was
He was 17 when he found me cheating on his mother
I still remember the look in his eyes
he didn't care that it was the only time it happened
20 years he screamed at me
I had been married to his mother for 20 years
and that's what I did
I don't know why I'm telling you this
Kyle probably already has
I just want to give you my side
I met his mother when we were 11
we started dating immediately
like the first day we met
and then we got to high school
and everyone thought it was great we'd stayed together
then we got to college and then law school
and it was all the same
the praise
the admiration
it was like a drug to me
I loved that people thought we were perfect for each other
I LOVED IT
do you see what I'm saying
I didn't love her
I loved the idea
the idea felt right
50% of marriages end in divorce
people try to say that means love isn't real
but that's *******
Love is real
believe it
the truth is that Love is so scary
so ******* intimidating
that people will go out of their way to avoid it
they'll marry someone they don't love to avoid it
they'll stay with someone they don't love hoping it might show up someday
What you and Kyle have is real
It's special
and I know he'd never let me tell him this
so please please
Don't be the reason my son doesn't believe in true love
he already has me to blame

This isn't a happy story
I don't think it's even a story at all
It certainly has an end
and by virtue of being told
it has a beginning

It's the middle part that becomes murky
how do you a quantify a human life
the little intricacies that you can't even remember
the butterfly, whose wings
flapped a few too many times
leading me to this

Standing 746 feet above the water

I wonder if it would always end this way
if every fork in the road would eventually curve inward
if every call would remain unanswered
if every love would fade

I think that's the funny thing about objectivity
it exists in isolation

this is my story
or lack thereof

*Jump

There's no simile
no metaphor
no noun, no verb
no adjective unaccounted for
which describes
the sight eye see
when those two I's
look at me

I can't help it
I guess
I grew up on screenplays
on all of the hidden meanings
the metaphors
they shaped my thoughts

you know I never dated in high school
and I was a looker too
I didn't do it because no girl was perfect for me
there was no princess charming
do you realize how stupid that was
four years wasted

one girl ruined it tho
lisa turner
oh my god this girl
this beautiful body
beutiful smile
perfect everything she was angel
but when she talked
....
dear god she had a lisp
how could that be
how could the perfect girl be
imperfect?

That's when I first realized
something was wrong with me
I discovered that people weren't archetypes
that events weren't symbols
but most importantly
I learned a happy ending was guranteed

I killed a butterfly today  
then tried to write a poem  
I don’t know why I did it  
It died without a home  
It struck me as compelling  
as I recalled what my parents used to say  
be mindful of your surroundings  
a flap of butterfly wings can change a day  


I thought little of it then  
yet now I obsess as I reminisce  
if a butterfly flap can change so much  
what of the absence of it?  
Have I sealed my fate to infamy  
or paved my way to riches  
but maybe if I **** another?  
my unforeseeable fate switches  


But what’s a butterfly to me?  
it wasn’t much before  
now you expect me to believe  
it holds the key to what’s in store?  
Free will must exist  
at least as long as I believe it to  
foolish of me to think my dead butterfly  
could have some affect on you  


Yet I sit here thinking  
of thoughts I’ve never had  
a liar I would be to tell you  
that I haven’t changed a tad  
It did not have a name  
and I did not have a reason  
yet as I blankly stared down  
I felt as if I had committed treason  


So I sweep away the body  
and leave the room to clear my head  
if my hand’s never clapped  
this butterfly would not be dead  
so be wary of the change you bring  
the waves you choose to make  
that butterfly could have changed a day  
and not believing that was my mistake

There once was a poet
who was very much alive
he'd write everyday
sometimes late into the night
his poetry was his craft
a never ending ascent into madness
a read of his work
was a trip into darkness

He was fascinated by death
by how simple it was
he imagined the light being as bright
as the white of a dove
he loved rhyming tricks
how they'd guide a reader
along a waterfall of words
the more the steeper

but he wasn't famous
he wasn't beloved
this tore him apart
and led him to what?
no i didn't hear that
a modern day Van Gogh
only 25
too young for him to go

Why am I tired
up until my head hits the bed?
I stumble through the day
waiting for the moment which I lay
and then when it occurs
my mind cannot be curbed
racing through scenarios that won't happen
with people I'll never meet

But every now and then
I think of you
and this is what I don't understand
I roll over again and again
mulling over
our future we have planned
and at that moment it becomes impossible to sleep
so I grab your picture from my nightstand

                                          and quietly begin to weep

I regret everything.
75. I decide it is time to find her.
I do.
She is dead.
74.
73.
72. I think about her all the time.
72. A commercial comes on and I see a lady with blonde hair.
71.
70. My son's wife left him.
If this isn't confirmation I don't know what is.






34. it's a beautiful
33. I pay a woman to be the surrogate of my child.
I decide being a better father than mine will make life worth it.
32.
31.
30.
29. I decide to make a change.
28. I tried to **** myself but the rope broke.
27. Nothing
26.
25.
24. I couldn't
24. I wasn't listening .
24. Something about work or her mother or something
24. She declines
24.  I propose
23. She changed me I can't believe it.
22. I can't live without her.
21. She's perfect
20. I meet a girl.
19.
18.
17.
16. My father left yesterday.
My mother tries to explain love to me.
I don't think she knows what she's saying anymore
Love must not be real
15.
14.
13.
12.
11. I got an A
My father is in AA
I'm happier about the second.
10. I asked Tommy if his Dad drank and he said yes.
But I don't think he knew what I was talking about.
I can't imagine his dad wakes up in bile
and *****
and his own ****
once a week.
9.
8.
7.
6.
5.
4. I love being held.
I'm too old for it but I cry when I'm put down.
It don't care as long as I'm picked up.
3. Santa is the coolest he gives me gifts and presents.
And I know those are the same thing but I'm just too excited.
2.
1.
0.

I'm struggling to write the first few lines of this poem
1. because I haven't written in awhile
and 2. Because I think it will be a very good poem
and don't want  youto abandon it
trust me
we give up too easily
for example
when I'm older I want to write movies
but when I watch a movie I constantly check my phone
even if I like the movie
we are worse off than we know
I've been thinking
lately
that is a lie
it's only been recently
very recently
regardless
why I do write best when I am depressed?
why is that when I am most profound
why must my life be strewn about around me
for me to have a grasp on literary prose
then again is it wrong of me
to consider my only important writing
the ones that can be deemed "good"
is that unfair to myself
there's a select few I always come back to
they are very good
but I was hurting a lot when I wrote them
were they worth it
maybe
I remember something I read one time
it was written by a woman
and she was talking about her pain
and her writing
she said that pain was now fluid in her life
all that really mattered was her writing
no matter how much the pain hurt
as long as her writing benefited
she would welcome it with open arms
what a **** way to live
maybe it's just nostalgia
that's *******
you wrote better before
you know that
I'm right
I've become a better person
and a worse writer
and both
frighten me

I wonder if he'll shoot me                         I wonder if he'll shoot me
because I'm white                                       because I'm black
and he's black                                             and he's white
I'm just doing my job                                 I'm just doing my job
providing for my family                            providing for family
It has nothing to do with him                   it has nothing to do with him
is he reaching for a gun?                           is he reaching for a gun?
SHOOT                                                        SHOOT

I can't write anything good anymore
it's annoying
i'm ****** that you did that to me
it really ****** me up
it ***** that you did that
but you could have told me
i acted like i didn't care
I just wanted the conversation to end
but in a way I didn't because I knew once that conversation ended
it could take years for their to be another one
I'm off track
I'm ignoring what really matters
but then again you always distracted me from the bad things
at least as I was hoping you would continue to do so
i guess without you i'm forced to face reality
without you i'm not a starry eyed lover
I'm alone
yes I know I'm not ALONE
but I'm alone
we were meant for each other
I'm off track again
I almost threw my future down the drain
and now i am hanging on the ledge begging for a hand
and my school is trying to kick me off
MY SCHOOL
the one that asks my family for a check sevaral times WANTS TO SEE ME FAIL
THEY ARE waiting
they do not care about
I am just a five digit number to them
one that hopefully recurs 4 times and then maybe 5
but watch this
if i graduate if i make it big
if i become something
they will want me to help them
to nurture them
to everyone how great they are
and when
that day comes
I will tell them in as many words
that they can lick my nuts
and i Know that is graphic but that is how I feel
that is how betrayal feels
and I want so badly to enjoy life
while I still can
while simultaneously creating a life I can enjoy
and it's impossible and it's driving me insane
and it makes me upset
because when people asked me what I wanted to be when i grew up
i responded
happy
and I meant it
no *******
i would do anything as long as i would
and now I feel that whatever I do
Happiness will always be out of touch
and every time i attempt to capture it the world
will shove me back down into my hole like a good little boy
but
I will get better
I will improve
I will prove people wrong
And I will prove my family right

you taught me how to smile
even if i wasnt happy
which leads me to believe
you werent happy when you were with me

I killed a butterfly today  
then tried to write a poem  
I don’t know why I did it  
It died without a home  
It struck me as compelling  
as I recalled what my parents used to say  
be mindful of your surroundings  
a flap of butterfly wings can change a day  


I thought little of it then  
yet now I obsess as I reminisce  
if a butterfly flap can change so much  
what of the absence of it?  
Have I sealed my fate to infamy  
or paved my way to riches  
but maybe if I **** another?  
my unforeseeable fate switches  


But what’s a butterfly to me?  
it wasn’t much before  
now you expect me to believe  
it holds the key to what’s in store?  
Free will must exist  
at least as long as I believe it to  
foolish of me to think my dead butterfly  
could have some affect on you  


Yet I sit here thinking  
of thoughts I’ve never had  
a liar I would be to tell you  
that I haven’t changed a tad  
It did not have a name  
and I did not have a reason  
yet as I blankly stared down  
I felt as if I had committed treason  


So I sweep away the body  
and leave the room to clear my head  
if my hand’s never clapped  
this butterfly would not be dead  
so be wary of the change you bring  
the waves you choose to make  
that butterfly could have changed a day  
and not believing that was my mistake

I wonder if you ever forget about me
momentarily,  summarily I
don't have the words to tell you what I mean
and I feel as if it'd be worthless to try.
That thing pops into my head the moment I wake,
I won't take up your time telling you of
the time I slid my hand off the, earthquake,
even the most powerful one can not shake a dove
How easy it would be to rise above the skies,
to float above the common folk,
to not worry about your little lies,
to not resent you every time you spoke.

It's always better when you're lost in it.
Without the time to contemplate the loss of it.

Melancholy memories make me muse
Perhaps I lost a piece of me when I lost you

Why do i still care is probably too simple a question
it implies an easy answer like “her eyes” or “her smile”
but it isn’t that
it’s not love at least not yet i’m too young
so it isn’’t that
think think think
there’s been other girls
four in fact
but what did they not have?
what were they missing
what made them Roseline and not Juliet
does “it” exist? it’s possible i guess
maybe nothing tangible could account for what i’m feeling
i doubt it but it’s a possibility
So what is it?
Seriously(tension builds)
Maybe it’s because you still care
sure I only know because of the grapevine
but i’ll just assume it still counts


I refuse to believe im the Pip to your Estella
I’d like to believe I have too much pride for that
Pride pride pride
maybe that’s the answer
I messed you up pretty good the first time
but then again you did win round 2
so maybe it’s just a game
a game my mind is just set on finishing


Maybe you’re just evil
crazy i know
really crazy
lunatic crazy
but still is it that crazy a thought?
you say you love me when you don’t
you say you don’t love me when you do
you say you miss us
but somehow “I” am not included


Maybe I have simply ruined you for myself
I’ve built you up in my head
to be something you simply can not live up to
It’s hard to explain but to me at least in my mind
you are a different type of “perfect”
Flawed in all the right ways
proficient where it really matters
In my head you don’t make mistakes
In my head you choose me first so you don’t regret it later
In my head you act rationally
In my head I create fake things


So to answer my question I must decide on an answer
and i choose all of them
because that’s life
that’s what it is
you’ll meet a girl who you feel is perfect for you in every way
except for the fact that she isn’t
and it won’t make sense
and it will drive you crazy
and you’ll write some stupid poem at a late hour trying to find an answer to your question
until you realize it doesn’t matter
because you’re young and she’s young
because there are mistakes to be made
nights to be forgotten
people to meet
places to see
and all the while there is time to sit down
to really ponder and finally come to the conclusion
that You
yes You
are not the one I end up with

There is nothing uglier than a blank white page
I get sick just thinking about it
It's nothingness
it's meaningless

a blank page disgusts me
because of what it could be
that page could save my life
if only I wasn't so afraid to write on it

is
cutting off bits of my infected self
and sharing them with you
but the pieces are small
so the poison's diluted
so you get to go home ok
and I...
I get to hurt a little less