your painful
you hurt me
oh your just like cotton candy
sweet to rot my teeth
like a poison
slowly suffering
your terrible
painful
the divine type of pain
that i would beg for
i live for the pain

i'm screaming to myself that i'm worthless

my mind is being
                                    t
                      o                     r
                                                       n
apart
apart at the seams
leaving only nightmares and unsettling dreams
and yet i still cradle what little sanity i have left
and whisper to it that is will be ok

how can i be gently screaming?

The world's gone mad but my mind is made up.
Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind,
A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.
This is where I am creative even though I'm blind
Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.
No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news,
I have got enough breaking news of my very own...
Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews.
Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom,
That contains my beautiful and liberated mind.
Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom,
It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind.

You have to know that I always act blind but I see.
In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate.
My mind is where I remain totally black and free.
Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate,
The code that will outshine any power on this earth.
My mind is where I live and where nobody has access,
Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath,
Call it my playground and intellectual fortress.

My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge,
Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier.
It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge.
In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier.
My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas.
It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters.
It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea,
Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.

Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind.
This is where I turn letters into spoken words
A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind.
Come and see where all words become useful swords.
My mind produces powerful words like some light beams...
Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation.
Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams.
Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation,
There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.
Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind
Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place
For this here is my personal creative post of command.



www.poemhunter.com/IvanBrookssr
#Vanguard-poetry23
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twitter @ivanclappers
@Bassapoet

I have kissed boys

Girls

People in between

But lately I have been kissing bottles

Their lips are colder than yours

But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest

Yet as these toxins rush through my veins

I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin

Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me

But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin

While heartache

Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know

Since my freshman year of high school,
I've said the phrase,
"There are so many people in this room."
Way too many times.

This little phrase exposes my fears,
Of embarrassment,
Or physical closeness to other people,
Or some secret poison slipped through fingertips.

I have no idea why fear builds in my chest
During all the situations.
Why am I scared of my peers?
My family?

I'm not sure I am.
I'm not sure why it's there.
I'm not sure if it's an actual problem
Or if this tightening happens to everyone.

I can't get it checked because it's normal
And I'm not anxious enough to have anxiety,
Not broken enough to have depression,
Not scared enough of people to have social anxiety.

I'm not at other people's levels,
So I'm not above average.
This is average teenage stress.
It's average to not be able to breathe after a tough confrontation.

Or during one.
It's average to not stop shaking your hands.
It's average to have people tell you to stop moving consistently.
Everyone does that, right?

It's normal to feel fear of someone who isn't remotely scary,
To feel like I'm inside a squeezing bubble of air,
When I can't do something I should do with ease.
When I can't do something normal for me.

To feel this moving in my stomach when I talk about this,
To feel like I can't keep talking,
To feel annoying and weird and strange,
For every single thing in this writing.

It's normal to feel all of those things,
Right?

good
morning
eggs
frying

milk
*****
babies
crying

drool
*****
m­ommy's
dying