A young man sits in deep
contemplation, plotting to
escape her clutches.

She beckoned, and he
couldn't refrain.

Now he's entrapped, serving
his dark lorde. Not as glamorious
and not as it has promised.  

What used to be his
refuge is now the leach,
draining him dry.

He came as the archer,
now he's leaving an empty
shell, void of any emotion
and sentaion.

starting  as pain,
turning into pleasure,
leaving him....

Beaten

Broken

Shattered

Numb

The breast that once
nourished, is now the ***,
tantalizing cracked lips, and burning
ones throat. Over and over until
one has drinken into obvlivion.

Though he is forever in her debt,
his heart and soul still show promise.

What has been devoured has not yet
been killed.

Hand in hand, she turns to
see his eyes veer.

The darkness may have striked,
but of the countless it has
consumed, the odds of him
prevailing fair pretty well.

I have burnt the candle at both ends    
        
during fight or flight      
        
all my wrongs I make amends      
        
I proclaim my love with great delight  
  
Your vile will never taint my point of view  
  
My soul is the diamond that always shines through      
        
You have lost your grip    
    
Your  weight I carry will no longer sink my ship          
    
On this journey I continue to embark      
        
I forever choose  blue over dark

No longer will I hang from a string I now seek refuge under my angels wing

I am less filled with self hatred
my youthful spirit has been
liberated
                    
I ignore what they project onto me.I do not have two eyes. I have three

 Don't care what people say
 It's better to die young than
 slowly  fade away.

Been hospitalized four times,  but I'm still spilling these rhymes.

No need to re-write my history,
 my strength will shine through
 and you'll see my adversity.

  Though I wasn't dealt the best hand,
  prosperity and growth is what
  I still demand.  

 I look within, and see that I'm
 in harmony with the universe,
 for I have fought long and hard to
 reverse this curse.

All the great minds I      
have come to        
know are now consumed          
by the unoriginal.       
I choose not to look, for       
the looks on their dying       
faces seem very          
pitiful.          
          
Pen in hand, I work          
endlessly, knowing       
these  words will          
carry me out of the       
middle world, a place          
where I have failed         
the people who        
see through me.          
I'm sorry, but a working          
class hero is not something          
I wish to be.       
          
My friends think it's       
unacceptable, but here I sit,       
telling you that dying is       
inevitable.       
          
It's these words       
that carry me to a          
place that's magical,          
where all my thoughts,       
ideas,          
and innovations       
are not deemed          
impractical.         
          
No money, no fame, and no          
security, this is who          
I truly am, naked to the          
very core. All the       
possibilities projected       
on me seem like nothing,          
but a bore.       
          
Pen being my          
only weapon, my imagination          
runs wild and free, for  it is          
the only way I can make people       
see.          
          
I pour this drink, in          
hopes I can cope and mend,          
while the people laugh at       
the ideas they can't       
seem to comprehend.          
          
Continuing  to double   
check these answers, 
thinking on whether          
I should be consumed          
by all the hate, while I       
contemplate my fate,       
and self  medicate.         
          
In a reality where          
I can't unwind, I       
attempt to break free,       
trying not to look back          
at the family I have          
left behind.       
          
These endorphins       
continue flowing, and there          
are no signs of me slowing,       
in a drunken haze, where       
I choose not to reminisce       
the cost, but rather, I 
pour this drink, and   
cheers to all       
the friends         
I have lost.

All my life I've
tried to fit in,
and felt that
being an outcast
was a total sin.

But as I've grown
wiser, I've realized
that fitting in is
what I fear the most.

I'd rather be a
caged freak at a
traveling circus,
than another sheep in
the herd, trapped in a
world of hate, a
place where the word
"love" is brandished
about, and where people
thrive off of problems,
not solutions.

With each passing note,
my true essence will pour
onto the floor, like
a wounded bird that
won't  stop bleeding, while the
audience listens to the
sound of my very own soul
quietly fleeting.

Urging we, the people,
to show our true colors
not with shame, or fear,
but with pride
and honor.

Don't feed me another
line. Give me back what-
's rightfully mine, so
I shall put it on display
for the world to see
the true me.

Knowing art to be
my only religion,
and God as my
only creator,
I no longer
feel sinful
and regretful,
for I know
that he has
made me to be
colorful

Word's spill onto this
page relentlessly and
without any remorse,
while I patiently let the  
universe run it's  
course.
  
Each passing stroke  
brings me closer to being
vindicated, simultaneously  
remaining on this  
high and feeling  
elevated.  
  
Every letter is essential in
bringing me closer to rewriting  
my fate as I am slowly becoming  
less filled with hate.  
  
No more will it be my  
vice. In this battle my rhymes  
are my ideal device.
  
The knife is the pen that
impales vile skin. The ink  
is the blood that releases  
every sin.  
  
I will not be held hostage  
and under duress so
I come before you to
finally confess.

Hand in hand the skies 
Were blue. There was a lot 
between me and you.   
  
But now the skies have turned   
to crimson red  that spills from    
my wrist when I fall into this  bed.   
  
You were the one who taught me   
How to feel. Now that you're gone,   
I'm my worst enemy who I want   
to ****.    
  
Nowhere to go and no place    
to hide, some place far   
away is where I choose   
to reside.    
  
Living like a square is    
no longer my taste.    
I drive away with this glock   
strapped to my waist.    
  
People can say what they    
want to say. Their opinions    
are not valid and are kept far away.    
  
As the people you love look at me with    
such disdain, I continue    
to fill with all this pain.    
  
A pain that cuts to my very core,   
whats  left of my heart is now an open   
Sore.    
  
No reassurance from the stars for    
they are all fading. My death is what I'm now contemplating.    
  
The end is easier to    
Embrace as I pour this glass and self medicate while my angel's have   
lost their grip and are about ready to vacate.     
  
Before they retreat to the sky, I surrender and let them hear my cry.    
  
HELP

Painting a black 
rainbow underneath 
a falling sky, it's mist 
consumes and eradicates 
your last breath, your 
last hope. 

They pour the drink 
you are forced to drink, 
and feed the flesh you 
are forced to eat. 

Taught to be stupid, and 
raised to be nothing, 
what's left to do, except 
make a noise so loud, fame 
will hear you. 

Your dreams will tell you what to do. 

bang 

bang 

Congratulations

Young and in love,               
she was everything I               
wanted and more. We               
even had matching tattoos               
to prove it.                 
                
Her parents               
thought our love written               
in permanent ink                 
was a serious issue, but                 
little did I know this               
ink would turn into nothing more         than scar tissue. Seeing                 
a wild night turn bad, we               
wish she would have turned               
away and ran.                 
                
But this is where it all began.                 
                
Engaged on a Friday night,   
her friends wanted to
do something special for her bachelorette   
party.         
        
They leave for Italy, and     
I'm overwhelmed with fear,               
but her best friend puts me at ease,       for I know her intentions are                 
innocent and sincere.                 
                
At a bar, everybody is soaking               
in the joy, laughing, and having            a good time.                 
                
But when sweaty Latino dudes climb   into the picture, everyone                 
starts to separate. She's got a bad           feeling about this.                 
                
The dude next to her               
is getting a little touchy               
feely, and she can sense               
trouble, on account he will not               
get out of her personal bubble.                   
He offers her drinks, and               
she thinks...               
                
"Why not? It's harmless, right?"               
                
Little does she know that the               
dude buying her this drink is               
totally insane, and when               
she passes out, he's going to               
take her home               
and run a train.                 
                
8 Latinos, 4 blacks,               
and two whites each               
have their five minutes.                 
                
Naked and battered,                 
she now lies                 
helplessly shattered.                 
                
She may have survived,               
but during that night                 
a piece of her had died.                                
Not wanting to be touched,  and not wanting to be seen, she can't stand the sight of her being a recluse. 
             
So she takes a bottle of pills               
and is found hanging from             
a noose.

I love you 
          
          I love you 
  
                     I love you 
  
                                  I love you 
  
  
  
FLATLINE..........

Each session was 
an hour and a half 
of pain. 

Little did I know the true 
hurt would still remain. 

What I perceived as thoughtful 
and deep turned out to be 
my worst enemy who even 
watches me sleep. 

In my dreams I'm able to stray, 
but when I awake I know you 
are here to stay. 

I will cut, claw, and scrape as 
I may. But all efforts are to 
no avail for you will never 
be kept at bay. 

Sitting in regret is not 
time well spent, there's 
nothing more I can do, 
so I shall repent. 

There will come a time where 
I will no longer be your slave. 
Soon you'll just be three layers 
of ink that will diminish in my grave. 

No longer will I be consumed with sorrow 
because where I go I know you will never follow.

We're born, 
we live, we 
die.   
   
Upon arrival,   
they give us   
numbers, and   
inject the   
system into   
our veins.   
    
We're given     
a name and told   
what is wrong   
and what is right,   
how to act, and how   
to live 
    
We remain in their   
ideological   
prison, without   
asking ourselves..   
    
Why?   
  
We're not safe. They will always turn a blind eye to our loud cry.     
    
Conditioned  to produce in   
a capitalistic world. It's about time we rise up and revolt or fema camps will be our end result.   
    
programmed to follow   
the rules and smile   
when our eyes look   
sad, let's  mount up and   
rock big brothers   
Iron clad.   
    
We built this country   
with our bare hands, but they   
took what was ours and     
made it theirs. Now we're     
under their demands.     
    
Don't be   
another sheep   
in the herd,   
let your mind   
be heard.   
    
We don't   
have two eyes.   
There's   
such thing   
as a third.   
    
We're not just   
some number.   
One day we'll 
rise up and you'll   
feel the wrath of   
our thunder.