i dig down,
sometimes bitter,
and over time i will always find something
that builds me however taller

talking behind my back
spreading rumors
then you have the gall to
say my life is built by lies

ive been in your position more
than i care to admit,
thats why i can tell you with certainty
that what you are breeding is all just a *******

the knife
you never protected me with it
you stabbed me
over and over
and gifted swords
to your many fallen
angels
and ordered them
to attack

i just couldn't even imagine
        a world without you
              in it

a shadowy ring in my ears
but warmth of sun still shines on me.
oh cheerful day
reminds me of times i was happy, younger days of summer.
a reminder that chimes me a little cheery.

it's taken years of insanity
to understand any good in the evil intended things
it took you seconds to say.

dark clouds and thunder
yet not a single drop falls
it's all in my head

i believe in karma
i let it take its course

no
no revenge from me

time
time is all good needs
to overcome
to overcome schemes of evil

unwavering forgiveness
and unabated kindness
attracts sinners and
the trials to keep
your own sense of
sunshine.

where you filled
the silence of my
heart with your malice
and false benediction,
i hope another
fills it back with
kindness and
the enablement of
my tears.

i pray you get a taste
of your own venom,
choking on your own
words,
only so you can
learn your own lesson.

it's funny.
the worst influence on my life,
introduced me to the best influence
on my life.
by mere days that we had met.

they even shared the same name.
how poetic is that ?
reality of black and white,
and the grey i meshed into.

when the trials of the mind
leak to the trials of the body,
hold on tight dear.

i didn't mean to bring any one down,
but when you hit such a point of no return, you do hope someone finds a way that helps you up.

my pathetic attempts of reconnection are just that.
when the barriers are so massive
i can only seem to play wall-ball by myself.

anger comes from ignorance.
not knowing the answers frustrates
us to no end.

judgement and bias
are way too shortsighted
to buy into

i don't want love from another these days
i just want to play the piano
for whomever wants to hear
reeling in its sound
hugging my heart so tender.

it's noting the beat of my heart
proving
you can't fail sound
and it can't fail you.

the dreams get tough.
when the uncontrollable trip
leads me back to seeing your
middle split hair head.

i am powerless to even try to
look into your eyes.
i fail to even describe
the repulsion i feel from your
eyes. i wasnt there to see you,
but we watched along to a movie
in a theater near a cafe i all
made in my head. hoping,
maybe knowing, you were
watching along too.

i never felt the liberation of saying how i felt.
i took it too far,
too fast.
it truely intoxicating. all of the jars
i sealed shut for years bursting forth
with the power of my newfound soul.

shine in light
from within
or from the
reflection of
the cosmic's
good aptitude.

stories that are
     spin
        spun
like spider webs
sticking the spots
stringing to connect the dots
of straight-forward-thinking.

sacredness cries: insight may lie where our logic blinds.
insects pry
the larger picture,
so hypnotized,
all to become but the dots that have died and were left behind.

a larger mosiac of victims;
pixels stuck in sticky ichor.
an image, an illusion, all of some darker decrepit deeper demise.

bygone begone.
the predator's amuse
of a nature's refute
to abuse anymore lives;
for it cares so beautifully to be kind.

in life's hike, i use a stick to swat that structure from sticking to my eyes.

seeds of doubt are like weeds
that nosey neighbors snicker
at yet plant. waiting
as if you owe it to them
to uproot yourself to their
idea of a perfect lawn.

i can accept failure
just as much as i can let it go.

progress comes from within.
therefore without it,
reality is doomed to falter.

in the pursuit of your dreams
arm yourself
for the nightmares.

never lose hope.
it will always have your back,
whether you know it or not.
it solely reimburses
complete faith.
confidence: determination: love: happiness.
it could light any dark room.

the problem with the present
is that it implies we are above the past.

our flawed existence
has always been waiting
for our rules to bend and break
to show we are as equal as the
animal that we are integrated from.

our rules, still evolving or adapting,
are the only code that leaves us more
than a beastly vestage. the brain that makes our mind does not have to further to action.

an instrument is like a dance floor and
the notes like a partner
in which the expressive heart
of all things
begins to align
and coencide with nothing but
the language of love.

they'll laugh at your progress,
degrade your regress,
try to cut you down; but
they'll never diminish
the belief in yourself.

I never want to hurt anyone.
Ive been told I nick those closest
with my razor hands.
Ive been told.

I let go of everything I can,
trying to finally take responsibility
for my own happiness,
where I find I am gifted with it.

I don't owe my past behaviors'
behaviors any favor. I don't
owe a thing to this world;
not a single explanation of this
violent carnation that holds
a true peace that is abated.
I pull away from the factor of 'other',
I push toward the sense of 'similiar'.

I owe myself the decency
of something that was
actually meant for us all.
To be happy, in its entire glory.
Today, I say, I can and wish to gift it
as much as it is gifted back to me.

the smallest note of compassion
would stop the orchestra
in its own onslaught.

some days are too difficult not to float away.
i'll hold on tight to my endearements; the closest heaviest things, hoping they are tied to the gravity that seems so daring as it desperately tries to escape from my self. completely out of the entire respect of others, i hold hard to not be swept from storm.

some of my wishes should not be fufilled. some of them need to be.
i can't let go of everything.

responsibility to the devil
is defamation, exploitation,
lies, apathy in hell, and abuse of power.
just to name a few.

so when you take it, please, if you are not them, break it and shake it then stake a good fame when you again remember all that comes with thy name.

YOU'D HAVE TO **** ME TO
BEAT THIS RED HOT HEART
TO ITS DEATH

it's funny what you begin learning
when betrayal lashes your innocence.

it's hysterical how I advocated
for every man you hated,

your misandristic tendencies.
a third eye blind to your tumultuous ingrained lies.
weaponizing my mind.

a fourth guy in line for another brutal cut that you align with no sight.

soon enough
you will be nothing more
than a bad dream

soon enough
the wound in my back
will respectfully be gifted back
by another

i hugged my cat and his heart beat
so fast,
so fast so viseral.
i held him until he calmed
and knew I was a loving
hand.
i knew every step and embraced
every one with my
overwhelming love

I'D NEVER USE YOU AGAINST
YOURSELF.

I still fail to
not do things for others over
myself.
Dedicating words to
special people.
I'm trying to love myself solely for once,
but I find the writers of
my life
are the one's
my mind's love
goes to, but I hold the pen.

Is that not loving myself?
When an unrequited hate for thy is met with a fiery excellence,
who protects thou in that exchange?
the cold embrace of night
that meets like
sheer edge on tender vital muscle?
the venomous tongue siphoning, spitting, to erode on sacred loyalty?
the nervous white rabbit in need of the slightest comforting space?
the abused puppy barking off advancements?
the cat hissing away touch?

heaven's coushined cloud?
embraced coat of arms?
love and all its subsidaries?

I KNOW WHAT GOOD LOVE IS
SINCE I WAS BORN
I KNEW

I WILL LOSE ALL THERE IS
THAT IS NOT IT
IN PURSUIT OF IT

THIS LOVE WILL NEVER DIE
AND IF YOU ARE NOT WITH IT
UNDERSTAND THAT IT IS STILL WITH
AND WITHIN YOU.

  IGNORANCE
DOES NOT STOP
A KIND HEART
IN SEARCH OF
HIGHER INNER
   STRENGTH.

              IT FEEDS THE
            MIND THROUGH
            SOULFUL BLUES,
            OR DEMANDING
             HEARTY REDS.
                                            WHY ELSE
                                        WOULD WE BE
                                           IMPERFECT
                                           ENOUGH TO
                                      SEEK HEAVENLY
                                        PERFECTIONS?

WHEN THE MOON FACED THE SUN
ITS TRUTH ECCLIPSED LIGHT'S REALITY

waiting for word
from the Sun,
in a sentence of night,
which is so ruthless and told
who and what is so wrong
on this world we die on.

come down, oh, Sun.
So that I may feel your warm embrace,
so that I may enlighten the brighter reflective truth, I mirrored from your greatness, away from the dark family lies spread by self-righteous rotten eyes and ears. Holding on to modesty trying not to **** for the murdered cousin inside, all while I am painted but villian of night.

My vengeance will taste of kindness.

There's a lot of power in not doing what someone knows you are capable of.

I dreamt of you in lonely Mantua.
Outside my door as I had seen you once before.
Your aura slowly leaking through my home's walls filling the air in a loving daze- I stirred up in its steamy cloud.
Outside I went, outside I saw your smile. I thought you may have saw me shake like I was a beat mutt.
My gooey wound opened upon meeting your eyes- the love is stupidly perserverent.
Then as fast as you came,
without word, without embrace, slowly you set, oh Sun. With magnificent glory of death of day; a hot angry summer's day.
Down flights of stairs where you escaped the Moon's pull.


A dream come dead in Mantua.
Banished from the brightly sky's domain,
I light the night sky,
the nightly earth,
in turn- in steed to show those
in darkness of night there can still be light past these cyclical dying days.

i don't particularly need anyone to hear these thoughts,
i just need to say them.

love will be when I am embraced for every last one, and I will weep
with happiness in every space
there was sadness.

the more i invest i find
a toll knocking on a preverbial
bell that cracks each gong
but releases such a mist
of stardust that mirror
the first thing's rebirth.

i'm just tired of the cycles.
the cycles that grow more hurtful with
a tastier fruity juice.

it is quite hard,
but rewarding in persistance against lie,
to not have other's words write you.

a slandered abandonded mold
that might once fit
their own ego.

i stray in wilds of unknown
feeling grace of but wind and what stands in wind.
no serial fabrication, but chance's kiss.

grace of my own will: an energy's moral compass i still know to be aligned true.