I had a good day.
It's a rarity
It's delusion
Merely a mirage
But somehow, it's still good.

I can just forget
Forget about the complicated thoughts of maturity
Of lost innocence
And only think of the Mooshkians.

It's stupid really, how really stupid we are.
The puns
The god-like laughter of the three out of place children we are
the immature ****** euphemisms spewing from our ***** minds...
As if one more joke would free us from the social pressures.

We sing as if no one were glaring at us with their judgmental yuppie eyes
Even though we know they are

Those children you see, laughing, huddled up in a circle
You think to yourself that we need to grow up, to take life and grab it by the *****
What we would say to that... well... we would laugh because you said *****.
This is the only time we have to act like the children we are, together.
We all have mature lives by ourselves
Mia, my ******* heavy-metal queen
Mason, my little fashionista
And me, the genius poet
Together, we are THE MOOSHKIANS!!

WE WILL TRY AND WE WILL STRIVE AND
WE WILL MAKE IT TONIGHT
BECAUSE WE ARE THE MOOSHKIANS AGAINST THE BOOSHKIANS
AND WE WILL STRIVE AND MAKE IT TONIGHT.

poetry.
right?
no rules?
right?
just soul?
right?
am I ******* right?

What the hell happened?
I find myself, in a time of complete mayhem
and I just want to write
My beautiful words, thoughts, and emotions
now under duress

"punctuation"
" I don't get it"
I don't write for you.
I write for me.

what the holy hell is poetry if it's not undefined.
the only thing in this quintessential world, that is undefined.

the only ******* thing I have
and you want to micromanage it.
just like you micromanaged everything into the ground.
well, bite me society.
not on my watch, not even on my time zone.

Mother Of Three
Symbolical Tree
Tall And Strong
Feminine With Leaves Of Forest Green

Master of disguise
Fiery chocolate eyes
Constant safe smiles
Protector of the young
Whimsy And fun

Sit and watch her for a while
You see a born protector
Protector of an emotional child
Who was wise and to wild for her own good.

I guess I'm saying thanks
For the trips to the stores and the banks
For the freedom, for the hurry
You went to hell and back for me
Without an ounce of worry.

Happy Birthday

O Razorblade
What Secrets Do You Hold?
Upon The Window Pane
For
Months? Years? Days? Hours? Minutes?
Who Else's Pathetic Blood Have You Drawn Out?

O Razorblade
So Curious You Are
Up There Staring At Me
Judging Me For My Lies
You Won Though, You Touched My Skin
Right On My Wrist, A Familiar Feeling
Aren't You Supposed To Hold A Hopeless Felling When Picked Up For The First Time?
Aren't You Supposed To Release Those "endorphins" Along With my Blood?
My Brand New Room, The First Thing I Saw Was... you.
So Don't Think That I Didn't Notice You
I Don't Want You To Think That I Didn't Like You
It Would Be To Ironic For Both Of Us To Be Disliked
I Felt Happy, Like An Honest Person When You Pierced Me
Is That Weird.
Don't Feel Bad That I Washed You Before Using You As An Exorcists' Cross,
Drawing Out My Demons
I Could Tell You'd Been Someone Else's Tool
I Couldn't Risk Disease
I'm Selfish For That
You Have Probably Been Exposed To All Kinds Of Fiends, Diseases, And Emotional Pain

I'm Terribly Sorry, Dear
I'm Glad I Picked You Up Though, I Think You Are Too...
You Needed My Blood, I Had To Much.
I Gave It Up To You, Up On The Window Pane
You Weren't Judging Me, You Were Asking For My Blood.

You Helpful, Cold, Metal *******, I Love You.

The Boredom
The Longing
The Wonder
The Feelings Of Art
The Exploration of Deep Dark Desires In Every Crevice Of The Human Brain.
The Independence
The Conversation With Soul-God, About Self
I Always Sing Best At This Time, Maybe Because I'm Content With My Soul.
I've Found Another Heaven
The Heaven Of Contentment And Unexplainable, Nonexistent Adjectives.

She Came In With The Stars And The Wind
That Blew Down Orange Leaves

On The First Of September
My Sunflower Sprouts
Her Love Is The Glue

eVERYTHING yOU tHINK yOU kNOW iS A lIE.



Society's rules mean nothing.


Satan is genius. he has consumed the souls of everyone.
If you believe in the biblical 'god', Satan has consumed you,
if you fear Satan, which is fear himself, he has consumed you.



use your eyes to hear, use your ears to smell
smell the odor of the pope.

god is the underdog
Oh, how I love underdogs.