"*******! You've never cared."
I believe were the words she chose
every so carefully
digging through her arsenal
of piercing rocks.

"She didn't mean that dad."
I know these were the words I chose
because I've chosen them before
when this happened
last time.

"She's right..."
are the words he chose
as he begins to shatter
from the rocks
she threw.

A man whose made of glass
could shatter into a million pieces
just by stumbling.
But it's usually the words we throw
that impact a very fragile situation...

You never felt mutual,
but I don't really care.
I don't know if that's true,
so my judgement is unfair...

When I wanted to see you,
you cut me off. Why?
Is it because you see
that I'm soft,
and gentle,
but more of a man,
than you've ever seen?
Or maybe you can't
comprehend what's
in between?

When I read my poem
about my mom, I looked around
at everybody in the classroom,
and your head was down.

That showed me
you're weak to emotion
and have been sheltered.
My goal was clear:
I knew I wanted
to help her.

Expose you to this world,
and show you love,
I suppose you're
like a dove
Peaceful, and pure
with style,
But innocent too so
this could take a while...

Me being impatient,
won't get to you quicker
But the longer it takes,
only makes me sicker.

Then came this
irking feeling
when I thought
of something:

What if me
meeting you
ended as "we"
being nothing.

I hope that's not true,
so I'll just end with this.
It's a pleasure to know you,
and also to write this.

Love, Jimmy

A woman is the marriage of heaven and hell.
She will love and hate you in the same instant,
Praise and criticize you in the same sentence,
Save your life and condemn you to sin in the same moment,
Bestow untold wonders upon you and never allow you to appreciate.
She will sing angelic and pierce your heart with screams in the same voice.
Beauty, luminescent, yet motives malevolent.
She will keep you alive long enough to sustain her
And cast you aside, useless and drained,
At your weakest moment.
Unable to resurface in happiness.
The tenderness of her gloved, supple fist.
The irony of the ulterior motives in her kiss.
The nakedness of woman is the work of God,
Yet the woman as a being is the marriage of heaven and hell.

Notes in ink
jump between
the black, they
jump between
the white, and

there are lines being repeated here.

Sit in libraries,
pretend to read,
grid out fantasies
on a globe,
there are lines being repeated here.

Never did
have **** to say,
I admit it,
and so

there are lines being repeated here.

I do believe I’ve left my heart
Somewhere by the road
I can’t seem to feel it anymore
It was such a heavy load

Perhaps I should go back and find it
And put it back in place
But I feel so much lighter
With this smile upon my face

My heart contained the many tears
That I cried every night
I don’t believe I’ll miss them
While they are out of sight

I think that I’ll just leave it lay
Just be empty for awhile
Then I know that I won’t cry
And you can see me smile

I heard silence in the cobwebs
of your soul
while everything else walked
as if lost
inside of the belief
that all you see is black and white.  
Then, I watched you crawl in search of truth
among faces with eyes
that held the illusion of everything
you think you want in life.

Your fingertips seem to know more
about your emotions
than your tears do
because you touch each hurt
your heart mentions
until they bleed.
I watch you pause,
and look over your shoulder
for yesterday
almost as if you wish
it would never leave.

I wonder if you will ever learn
how simple
the feel of your own skin
could be
if you would just not let anger write its name
on your walls carelessly.  
Perhaps then, you could see the sunlight
of a brand new day
and accept the shades of gray
that color me.

the world around me sees me for who i was
i see myself for who i am
once the life of the party
now i dont even go
its hard to trust
those i should trust most
ive turned into a lone wolf
rejected the pack
ive been hurt too much
and i'm not going back

you might be clever, but you can never,
come close to me, ever,
you are silk and I am leather.

Eviscerate, obliterate, break
and it's too late
wounds can be stitched up
But the edges never line up quite the same