She keeps me up at night,
And I lie awake
as Peace drenches into fright,
she takes and takes and takes
and screams at me for my mistakes.

She tells me "No, you can't".
But even when I try to fight
My ear she takes and starts to rant
"You CAN'T, you CAN'T, you CAN'T."

And please don't think too less of me,
'Cause there's been times where I fight back
And I tell her who I want to be,
But it's no use when she attacks.
The color inside me fades to black.

If people tell me "Yes, you can",
I start to think maybe that's true.
I begin to smile but there she stands
behind my back a deathly hue
And snarks and laughs, "who, YOU?".

I know what you think,
why keep this friend?
Whose cold-****** words send me to the brink.
Why wouldn't you want it to end?
I'll tell you I try to break and bend.

But her hands choke me with guilt
Her eyes paint me with sick disdain
She tears down the places I rebuilt
And carves out the happy in my brain.

I put up a fight I can't back down
Because in glass and mirrors all around
what I see when I see her,
is that I am my own saboteur.

Going, going, going here.
Your open heart is showing dear,
our love just keeps on growing near.
Just meet me right or wrong.

I know we'll see the light of day,
we can't have it another way.
All that I am is yours to stay,
you are the man I need.

Although with love can come great fear,
I know I will stay smart & strong.
And though the path may not be clear,
I feel like we belong.

On this bed we both shall lay
and from each other's souls shall feed,
And even in the darkest day,
trust and hope take lead.

I want to write songs about beautiful people and words
--a song for the birds!

I want to travel and dine, drink Italian wine
--I want to feel alive!

I want to hear words so deep that they burn my soul
--maybe then I'll feel whole!

I want to stop dreaming and wishing and yearning
--my passions keep burning!

I want to write poems and dance and have wild romance
--maybe I'll get the chance!

I need it.
I need it.

The dark, deadly feeling of despair
rose upon me through the layers
of my warm winter jacket.
I placed a single foot
upon the cold gravel,
and off the safe sidewalk beneath me.
A new feeling entered the hollows of my being.
I was leaving.
I was going home.

I will myself to hate you,
And to find something that I can use
as ammo against your love.
But I give up.

I can listen to the brave words
that my friends help me use
as my shield.
But I don't believe them.

It's different this time.
It's all there, yet there's nothing.
Just a tiny lighthouse seen through
a deep dark sea.

I will my boat away
towards the islands.
But it's no use.
I am too in love with the light
to not follow its unpromising affliction.

Watch me as I drown.

Observation: People are scared of everything.
I cannot say I am fearless.
But here's the thing.
I believe that we find ourselves in the pain and the ****.
Why are we so scared to feel?
Those happy moments, they're great.
Who doesn't love to be loved and to have smiles and laughs surrounding them affectionately?
But to be so low, to let yourself feel the gut-wrenching, dreadful, anxious, grieving, suffering, numbing pain,
it makes those moments of happiness even greater.
It's no longer a happy moment, it's an exhilarating one.
I swear you'll feel so happy that you wouldn't even care if it was your last moment on earth.
It's no longer a laugh, but a bellow that makes your insides scream of joy.
It's no longer just a baby laughing, it's a beautiful little soul that makes your whole day a little brighter.
It's no longer just a song, it's a beautifully crafted symphony that makes your ears explode.
It's not longer just a day to you, it will be a day in which you do everything possible to take that happiness and spread it to others. And that can be every day.
But to feel this, the truth is that you have to go through the **** first. You have to let yourself be depressed and anxious and moody and angry and sad, because once you've felt it all you'll know that you can get yourself out. And that everything will be okay. And that being lost will get you found again. You can't give up on yourself because I'm telling you this: You can find strength in every pain.

So here's to you life, keep pushing me down and pushing back at me. Because it just makes me want to keep being stronger.

words are my drugs.
how powerful words woven together
like beautiful chords in a song
i feel them down to my very core.

the way they can inspire
or hasten
or beckon or call
they can make you feel, feel anything at all.
they swell up tears in lonely eyes
it seems to be the only thing to satisfy
a lonely mind who needs another voice inside
to tell them it will be okay
or that its just another day.

sometimes all we need is a sentence or quote;
a little handwritten note.
a word alone is just alright
but together they unwind hearts so tight
because these seemingly innocent, yet disastrous things
can somehow understand
and express
all the things that feelings cannot say.

and my god it is a beautiful thing.

My walls are built so high around my fragile heart but
You slowly have been tearing them down
And I want to trust you
And I want to let you in
But you have to prove to me you're worth it
Or else i'm going to sit here just dying inside
Wanting to talk to you
And laugh with you
And kiss you
Because you set me on fire,
And i'm a pyromaniac.

I can't imagine people
going through their whole lives
not being able to be who they are.
Whoever that may be.
Loud, or gay or transgender or flamboyant or
artistic or scientific or something that can't even be
defined by a single word.
Be who you are,
no matter the consequences.

All I do is...
  Detect the lies
  Watch as time flies
  Witness demise
What is this?

  Feel all the pain
  See the world in vain
  Melt in disdain
Why is this?

  
  Just breath keep hope
  That life is *****
  Up and we cope
How is this?

Life on and on
Dodging the cons
The only way that

All I do,
Matters.

I’m glad you stopped answering me.
You did me a favor.
I have needs that you just couldn’t meet.
And yes, I feel things too deeply. I’m emotional.
And I love harder than you can even imagine.
I look passed the bad and I try to see the good.
Thank you for showing me I can’t keep doing that.
Because although their may be good in each person, it doesn’t mean that their good is good for me.
I’ve got to put myself first from now own.
I’ll never be able to detach the part from me that wants to help others and I love that, but enough is enough. This is my life.
And in love, I deserve what I want.
Although I may have to be single for awhile in order to find that, I know I’ll take pleasure in waiting.
Because boy oh boy when he comes along I am going to feel it all.
And I can’t wait for that day.
Until then I’m going to keep writing, creating, hoping, and helping, and I wish you the best in whatever it is that you choose to do.
But you don’t deserve my love,
you never did.

Because wading in that pool
of memories,
of hurt,
of suffering,
and pain, and grief;
It’s lonely.
And no one will ever find you there,
but there you will find that in which you choose to wade.

I wish to say my heart is made of gold,
but it's silver.

Because the silver has been tarnished by those around me,
trying to bring me down,
make me bitter,
steal some of my sweetness.

But you won't win.
Because deep down beneath the fade
I know that the silver is still here.
And I know that one day someone's love,
like a perfect polish will come
and wipe away my tarnishes.

fear and faith cannot occupy the same space.
i’m scared.
scared that you’ll hurt me, that you’ll only love the good things about me and not the things that are sometimes hard to love.
i’m scared ill say something out of line and it will be enough for you to walk away because you never really realized how special i was in the first place.
i’m scared that you just want me for ***, and want to use my body. i’m scared that you only like me because i’m pretty, and that those days where i get ugly you’ll run the other way.
i’m scared you won’t accept my baggage onto your airplane, i’m scared it won’t fit that it will exceed the weight limit, because the truth is my heart is as heavy as it is pure.
even though i’ve felt rejected 100 times, i’m scared that i won’t make it to 101. that it will destroy me, like it has before. i know i can’t let someone 100% in and make them my entire world because life never works out like that. and life doesn’t work from attachment because everything is temporary.
i can tell myself 1,000 times how good enough i am. because somewhere i do believe its true. i know how strong and brave i’ve been and how many times i’ve been stepped on and had the courage to get up one more and i know that i’ll do it.
i can’t let fear consume me.
i’ve been to hell and back and i know that little dark hole and what it’s like to want someone to pull you out.
but i pulled myself out.
i lived and i experienced and now i want to love. i want a love like reckless abandon because the truth is my heart is deeper than the earth’s core and the things that i can love and the things that i can love about someone are limitless. i’m a writer and a poet and a beautiful soul and i will not let you, Fear, I will NOT let you consume me. You’ve stopped me from fighting for what I love and standing up for myself. But Faith and Courage have helped me fight you. Faith and Courage have helped me get past your iron clad ties around my hands and especially my heart. I will not let you win, because this is my battle. And although I’ve been left, lied to, disappointed, walked on, spit on, thrown down, punched, kicked, and defeated 1,000 times, it only takes 1 time for Faith to erase all of that pain. Faith > Fear.

Head hurts from the blow
heart beats real slow
it's funny ya know
I didn't think this is how it would end.

But the truth about life
is through the **** and the strife
we somehow find our way out.

my head hurts but what part
wasn't right from the start
my ego falls flat
you didn't think about that

my heart beats slow familiar beat
not the first time i've felt the heat
i thought you were the sweet
i guess i was wrong.

so i sit here and lie
wondering if i could cry
and it would stop time
so i could forget this familiar pain.

because when love comes knocking
and you open up too late
it becomes the date
in which things end.

I'll tell you what a prison is,
it's not a square rot cell.
Prison is others' definitions of you
and I'm living in that hell.

To not be is to be,
no matter what Shakespeare said.
If I keep living in this reality
my creative mind grow dead.

It's frightens the hell out of me
to imagine what I could see
If I did not look at
what everyone was telling me.

But what's more terrifying,
is to not. be. free.

You think you're better than me? Prove it.
I'm skinnier than you.
Weigh it.
I'm taller than you.
Measure it.
I'm smarter than you.
Test it.
I'm prettier than you.
Picture it.
I'm still better than you.
How?
Do you do what's right? Does your personality shine bright?
Can you stand up for what you want? Or is all you do taunt and taunt?
Are you brave? How bout when you misbehave?
Do you say nice things and mean it?
Or do you do it so you won't have to admit,
That you may be prettier, skinnier, smarter, and tall
But those things don't make you better than me at all.
Come up with a real argument now,
prove it to me that you're not one in the crowd.
Believe it girl, you really don't stand out.
Because being all of those things doesn't surpass all your doubt.
You don't know who you are,
You don't know what to believe.
So you aren't better than me,
but just because that may be true,
doesn't make me better than you.

As I pour another glass,
I look into the mirror.

Really, this again?
I thought I had been clearer.

"You know what lies across the river"
my good mind says to me.

I whisper back "It's what I want,
I want to feel pretty".

So I go forth, I drink the glass
and it tastes like sweet divine.

I stare at myself for a few more minutes,
soaking in all of my shine.

But then the reality starts to hit,
my fragile heart begins to twitch.

Suddenly I get an itch,
I fall down into a ditch,
God, isn't life a *****?

I lay on the floor,
not breathing the best.
My dear mind says to me,
"When will you give it a rest?"

I say back "I can't let go,
the feeling of shining is worth the
poisoning sorrow"

I know tomorrow I'll do it again,
because I never learn my lesson.
I hope one day I can listen to that voice.
But for right now, she gives herself no blessing.

The first time was special,
now the novelty wears thin.
The first time I met a man,
the first time I let him in.

To my dark, perverse world
To my deep, hidden wants
which he taunted taunted taunted,
and continues still to haunt.

This man, to me meant more,
the first man who made me ***.
This man, to me meant more,
the first man who left me numb.
This man, to me meant more,
I fell victim to his whims.
This man, to me meant more,
had me suffering on two limbs.

Because this man was not a man,
as I so previously had believed
He who made me oh so anxious
the dark thoughts made me dry heave.

Because this man was not a man,
he never expected much to be.
Because this man was not a man,
he killed something inside of me.

So now to me, love means ***.
All alone I'm left to dress.
I **** to get out all my stress.
And love ignores me.
                             Because I ignore love.

I'll do anything to feel man's skin
I'll do anything to get it in
I'll do anything to lay my head
upon the breast
of a man who will never love me.

This man, to me meant more.
But because this man was not a man,
he left me with a heart so sore.

The soul starts off pure and humble,
unscathed from the thoughts of man.
But then we grow up and we begin to mold,
trying anything just to fit the plan.

But why must i be in a box
when i know i'm undefinable?
It scares people not to label me
they feel vulnerable and viable.

I'm not a punk i'm not a ****
i'm not anything that i do.
The only thing i really am
is undefinable to you.

And if that really scares you
and you have to label me,
then please choose not to focus on
that which doesn't define me.

I'm not the clubs i do
or even the music i choose to hear,
i'm not the guy i hooked up with last night
or the movie that brings me to tears.

What i am is much more deeper than that.
Its what i choose between whats right and wrong,
and maybe the special lyrics i like
from my very favorite song.

We're all a bunch of different things,
and experiences, and pain.
But to try to box us into categories
just seems downright insane.

i really just don't understand,
does it scare you i'm not like the rest?
not a sorority girl
not a hipster
not an activist at a protest.

one thing i will protest though
is smooshing me into a box.
because i really won't fit anywhere
i'm eternally, utterly lost.

but not the kind of lost you get
when you have somewhere to go
i'm the kind of lost thats wander
and i'm not really lost at all.

Why do I feel the need to fit a mold
'Cause truth be told
As I get old
I find myself ever-changing

Why must I define what I believe
'Cause new facts that I receive
Alter what I conceive
It makes me ever-growing

I cannot say I'm black or blue
'Cause truth be told I'm every hue
It's all too true
That we're forever-thriving

I think getting hurt
makes us cold
and hard to get.

I never liked that.

Do you think
if maybe
I stopped trying to follow
all of these rules

that I would actually get somewhere?

                                        Find someone?

Not all of us want to play games.
Some of us don't crave the fame.
I guess you think that's kind of lame.
That maybe in this world we bein' tame.
But this life is like a flowing drain,
you gotta do what keeps you sane.

From this man I can see
That the word of the Truth,
Is a much better decree
Than the word of the sleuth.

Much like Keats I find the only raw and concrete
Are these all-knowing words.
These I cannot delete or defeat,
So I let them fly from me like birds.

I cannot exist without my words.
I believe this is my path,
And through the unknown woods
I let my pain fuel my wrath.

I cannot bear to think what this world will become
If we don’t follow our calling.
What would be of Keats, so glum,
Had he not written from what he was brawling?

Wondering how he got dealt this hand in life
I realized this was not a curse,
That the ones who get dealt the hand of strife
Are able to craft the most beautiful verse.

I have this aching, gnawing hunger,
it just won't seem to pass.
Why can't I ever find a fix,
the fullness never lasts.

I binge on *** and purge with shame,
it's become a sick, twisted little game.

I was always taught that holding hands,
is something from a lover.
How can you kiss my head, and nose,
but say you don't care without a stutter?

Since when did staring longingly into eyes,
become a mask or some disguise?

What is the truth, tell me, does it exist anymore?
If a guy kisses me, holds me, caresses me,
then shows me the door.

Is there a realness, does it exist?
These things cause so much bliss.

But they're just a fix, to numb my hunger.
For REAL love, affection, lust, and desire.
What is real affection, is it out there?
This ******* is causing too much to bear.

I'm starving, I'm aching, please stop doing this to me.
For my heart is too big, too big for there to be no love to be.

I have wild dreams.
But I am a coward who cannot strive to complete any of them.
I want to be everything and I want to be nothing at all.
I don’t want to be scared of my dreams
and I do not want to be scared of my beliefs.
I should embrace them.
I do not want to care if people will like me or not.
I do not want to play games.
Games are for children,
and although I want to remain a child forever,
children do not want the kind of love that I want.
The brutal, raw, passionate, beautiful, breath taking,
crazy, intense, spiritual, amazement where nobody knows what the **** is going on with you
because you are so enthralled in another soul and another human being that everything else seems to stop and go and stop.
Games are not to be played.

Give myself away,
just to feel you touching me
and giving yourself to me.
I'm wanted.

After you've ravished me,
and savaged me,
while I lay in our puddle of lust,
I can't help but thinking,
wanting yearning dreaming hoping
that maybe the next one who touches
all of my body will actually touch my soul.
Will love and breath me,
and be with me.

Until then I let those foreign lips kiss me.
choke me and slap me.
Just to feel something even for a moment,
knowing it will feel like a volcano erupting
when the one touching me actually loves me.
The one that loves my body
in its soft, curvy figure.
And loves the way I kiss,
and finds me **** for 300
other reasons than the way I moan.

I'm waiting for you Passionate Love.
Beautiful Man.
Patiently, waiting.

In or out? Pick one, now.
You expect me to be a
half-***,
almost there,
a tie,
second best,
a compromise,
an "okay that'll do",
a "that's good enough" until the next best thing comes along,
an unfinished puzzle,
a half-colored picture from a
99cent coloring book,
an unanswered question,
a cancelled after one season TV show,
a cliff-hanger,
No.
It's in or out.
All or nothing.
I'm a destination after you've been traveling all day
and a place to call home.
Not a rest stop.
Not a piece in a board game.

I'm letting go of that one percent
chance you'll ever want to be with me.
Because I want someone who's one hundred percent.
Who's willing to call my bluff and go all in.

We all deserve someone who's willing to risk it all
just for a chance to be called "ours".

All those people in your life
that you have hanging by a measly thread,
one little, lonely thread...
cut it.
Snap it.
Chew on it until it breaks.
You deserve someone who's willing to
weave their own rope just to hold on
to you.

All in?
Or nothing.

Too often in this world
we are told that emotion is a sign of weakness.
Be strong.
Save face.
Pride, perfection, pretending.
Put on a different face.
Don't let people know how you really feel.
Don't make a ripple in the water.
Don't cry.
Don't be sad.
Just, don't.
My whole life,
berated myself for feeling,
for feeling too much or
not enough or
feeling angry when I shouldn't
or sad when I shouldn't.
Why?
Who tells us what we can and cannot feel?
Pain knocks on all of our doors,
some everyday,
some just once in a while.
Why is that weak?
Do we ask for Pain, the visitor?
My whole life I have felt invisible
when I know there is a greatness inside of me.
An impenetrable good.
Maybe crying more than others,
maybe angrier than others,
maybe sadder than others.
But I am strong.
An innate need inside me to keep myself happy,
and those around me happy.
If you want to see me as weak through your
tiny little pinhole eyes
GO AHEAD.
I am the one
capable of admitting my faults
before you even find any.
My wrongs, my short comings,
in fact I will hand them to you on a
silver platter
because this is who I am.
Why should I feel ashamed of that?
Of not being perfect?
I'm not putting on a mask for the rest of the world
I cry, punch, spit, scream, FEEL.
Passion makes me feel alive and
I am here to live.
Without feeling I am
no where, nobody, nothing.
I cannot bear to live in a
traditional,
cookie-cutter,
paradise.
Why has society made such a perfectionist
out of all of us? Including me.
****, that.

You're not the things you have done,
you are the things that you're doing.

Long lost live.
Love long lost.
Why do we spend our lives
wishing,
wanting,
yearning,
to be skinnier,
taller,
prettier?
We were put here for so much more;
I'm not quite sure what,
But why else do the pyramids exist
and the Colosseum,
and the 7 wonders of the world
and love stories so beautiful
your heart feels like it is melting.
We are destined for more;
more than we give ourselves credit for.
Comparing yourself
to those girls in your magazine.
This is the root of all evil.
I don't believe in manipulating an picture
so it can make girls hate themselves
by creating an impossible image of beauty.
Go write a poem.
Go take a walk.
Go explore nature.
Go create something other than your
negative thoughts.
Maybe then you will start to feel beautiful.
Maybe then we can create something;
the 8th wonder of the world.
Long live love lost,
live long love which is not lost.

The words run through my veins
innate to me like blood.
Thick, gooey flowing through my head;
my body.
Like when a nurse takes blood to save lives,
I bleed my words onto the paper to save myself.
To save others.
The way a person needs a pint of blood,
I need a poem.
I need words to give me hope.
Words, words,
words.

It's not your fault.
You were so young you didn't know,
you couldn't possibly have known
that your life was falling apart.
Ripped apart.
No mommy and daddy!
Just mommy.
Just daddy.
The foundation ripped out right from beneath the family, the home.
From underneath your little toddler feet.
How could you not blame yourself?

But it's not your fault.
That you had low self-esteem,
and deep dark thoughts
and a heavy heart
and a ball of anger inside
that flared up like a meteor
falling down to earth.
But you couldn't control it.
How could you?

It's not your fault!
That you cried and cried not knowing why.
And you blamed yourself
for every little thing.

It's less now.
The pain is a memory,
distant and cold like a boat
from the shore on a cloudy day.

It's not my fault!
Mommy I don't blame you.
Daddy I don't blame you.
I, don't blame me anymore.

I'll always have a loss.
But from the depths of the sea,
the depths of me,
I have found a way to heal.
And this time it is real.

Until you see the light
it's hard to imagine the end.

You can't see another door open until
the first one is shut.

For so long I stayed in the dark.

What we don't realize is that we have the power,
the ability to close any door we want.
We have to search deep inside ourselves.
Find the light.
Close the door.
Let the sunshine in.

Let. It. In.

Is there anyone out there?
      Anyone like me?
Who craves a love so strong and deep that it could melt the sea?
Who wants to stare into their lover's eyes until the day the die?
      Is there anyone out there?
            Like me?