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Trevor Stuart Sep 2014
Feeling isolated,
i don't feel as though I'm the type to make it
angsty anxious
soul sedated
so I type to make it

self described as the greatest
self described overrated
self prescribed medication
self denies that exploitation

this could be the "realest **** i ever wrote"
yet its honestly nothing more than mental notes
reminders that I'm not dead yet
remind me when I'm dead, yet
come find me when my head's set
solidly on my shoulders

don't know why I'm so sick of being HERE...
my mental state's constantly all over

I'm often sought for "good advice"
often thought of "being right"
"living life"
while you whisper "listen" without thinking twice
I whimper at the thought of life
misheard, disregard me in the spotlight
cuz... dawg... my soapbox full of termites..

don't wanna preach to the choir
don't wanna talk to the congregation
and I'm sure with all these blunts I'm facin
I'm bound to be famous
isn't that how it works...?
or am i..
bound to be facin
blunt truths
those famous cliches
we love to hate

why I'm sending love every which way?
when that love always comes back as a switchblade?
that cuts so deeply
given a forewarning, yet left in dismay, as to say
"now this may hurt..."
"but learned lessons..-"
my scars have stories but trust me, being scarred is a different story
I'm still sore where that passion burnt

lately I've been wondering if writing is rather vain work
combined with this lack of passion its got me questioning my body and whether veins work
or not
regardless when you blowing wind; you should know my weather vane works
a lot
but most of the time
i try to find
to my observations-
"-yoooooo everyone deserves a second chance b"
but I'm simply asking
how long do your seconds last?, see
the last time I was "stuck in the moment"
I grasped on tight and tried to slow it,
but there's no escaping the fact
that things come and go
seasons change
from summer sun to falling leaves and rain, then snow
listen... falling leaves a back broken..
but while lying there staring
blank into the dimly lit ceiling
snapped in half,
i realized that
the hardest part about the ego and letting go
is having to say, "sorry i was just stuck in the past.."

what kinda **** is that.....
Trevor Stuart May 2014
A split-second where life should be
Change is constant
Even when we have lost it
Our souls, our bodies
No longer clinging to meaningless hobbies
The only thing guaranteed
In a world full of greed
All warnings we did not heed
Taking without need
Corrupted images destroying self esteem
We should be working as a team
To undo the damage
Of the rich man's rampage
Stealing resources
Wars on false pretenses
Thinking about the future makes me tense
So many of my friends already have their mind set
"Having a family, that's what's best"
Why would I want to bring another life into this
An innocent soul
You're supposed to protect
and mold
Truth be told
I am not that bold
Although your hand I would love to hold
I dare not bring another fragile human into a world so cold
Trevor Stuart May 2014
I put so much effort into random places,
so much effort into random faces
face it
im faceless
thoughts towards destiny
feeling empty,
wondering whats left in me...?

messages esoteric terrorize my rhetoric
pedestrians staring glaring gazin gotta get a second look


layers shed, fall from those ancient snakes
left for dead
suffocated, stranded
god ******
this sunless planet is madness


try to find sense in a broke world
what are hands without manipulation?
and in life? death is a stipulation
a fools gold is never within grasp
clasp delusions Grandiose
with a toast
to sham pain and champagne
emptied grails course through mans veins

oh to see what mirrors saw
would reflections appear at all?
peer into the endless ego
see nothing but self libido

we are all weary travelers,
existences' eternal passengers
remove masks, flasks, end the charade
let serpents slither, and sun bath
away from the shade

embrace the end of nights
push away the start of days
just keep in mind
which way
            the pendulum sways
I have never taken a blade to my wrist
These thoughts cut me deeper than any knife
Lately I can’t shake this feeling that I’ll never get anything right
So what is the point when you don’t believe in yourself?
If you can’t, how can anyone else?
I've been staring at the same walls for three years
I can’t seem to overcome this fear
That my best is not good enough
Can you be too ***** to love?
When others shine so bright
How could anyone choose my light?
Happiness comes but it always leaves so soon
I’d rather stay in
Lock myself in this room
Stare at the ceiling
And think of you
You’re so ******* good and I want to be good too
But I am just a cliché
With too many flaws
You deserve porcelain skin and delicate jaws
So should I push away or fade away
Blend into shades of black and grey
Slow down time
Slip from my mind
Yet always you remain
Even when the last wisp of smoke escapes my lungs
I can still taste your name on my tongue
Trevor Stuart May 2014
we all flow through life like rivers
here and there, crested glimmers
sun shimmered
atop waves once ripples
at last glance of this looking glass..?
men surely shivered

locked in depths of mind
where feral thoughts blind
binded by
"my" mentality

the self is selectively obsessive
in heaven sent temperament




can do no wrong..

can do no wrong.

can do no wrong!

those with bias
revel in personally pious thought
a myriad of self destruction

pompous contemplation
decimates civilization

we all flow the same way
we all ride the same wave
once a ripple from a stones throw
bound to glimmer when we all flow
Trevor Stuart May 2014
a hole
void of light

dwelling in hellish mental wells
with no fight, flight or rational
oh well....

acclimated to dirt ceilings/sealings,
unless stars are aligned
will be born dead before found alive

roots from life
hang over head,
..**** em..
just empty promises
from another dead


sit in solitude
a solemn wreck
show helping hands,
real neglect

to uncover this hovel.?
no shovel will do
a sympathy symphony
wont let light shine through


manifest mountain-tops
from bottom rocks-once-kicked
blossom bottle-rock-ets
from sticks, stones,
thoughts of home

cold dismal walls
ambitious calls

burst forth reborn
alter the skyline
with mind

you can do anything
you put your mind to
look in the mirror
say im just tryna find you
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