I fear you
Everyday
Every moment
You're a silent scream
always taunting me
You're unpredictable
Will I see tomorrow?
Will they see a tomorrow?
Why am I still in bed worrying
When there's a whole world?
I fear the last times
The last times I don’t even know are last times
My head takes me to places no one wants to go
You take them away from us
Anyone has the power to use you
We have to trust each other
But not too much
to avoid you

Dear death,
How dare you?

You're my whiskey sour,
my gin and tonic.
You've got the power
to make me crazy
for you.
Slurring my words,
I can't speak.
You make me high;
no longer blue.
I'm walking funny;
I'm falling for you.
Falling down
that rabbit hole.
Take my broken pieces;
make me whole.
I'll take the hangover;
you're my aspirin, too.
****-faced drunk;
drunk with love for you.

I am in pain, though I cannot feel it.
I still stand tall, but not on my feet!

I have dreams, maybe they are false;
What I desire, let it be someone else.

I still haven’t found myself yet;
I run so fast, yet I’m always late!

You can see my eyes, they're full of tears
I never expected the pain I got from yours.

How can you hate a  Poet?
How can you hate a person who  freely pours, his/her fantasy imaginations and art to the world?
How can you hate such a pure and honest soul?

I am the same man
in a different bedroom
where the walls are painted a different color
and the furniture is different
and the items are different
and the style is different
and the mirrors are different
yet, I stand before them
and I look the same
and the bed is different, feels different
and the woman is different
and the *** is different,
and I stretch out on the bed
hands behind my head
elbows pointed outward
looking up at a different ceiling
where sometimes
there’s a ceiling fan
staring down at me
and I think about all my little women;
some were so sweet when others were so bitter
yet each one had changed my life in many different ways
either through experience or by mistake
but, like the ***, it’s all the same in the end:
finished.

My niece
made me bangle
of letters, starts, unicorns|
and colored beads

Then it hit me
that's her poem to me
a set of random things
that sit beautifully
side by side
around in a circle

and I noticed that
that's the first time
someone wrote
a poem
about
me

I suppose it’s a ****** for me
That you’re still
The most beautiful human being
I’ve ever seen
And maybe it’s a blessing
The ugly parts
Frailty really
And yet you’re still so beautiful to me
As imperfect as you be

Your reaction to fear is silence
And you’re almost always so
And when you ever do speak
You make sure to say lots of nothing
Though
You want to pretend you’re cool
And for us to believe you’re strong
And lots may be fooled forever
I stayed that way for too long
But now that I’ve seen through the charade
I pass by the fool who is too **** afraid
But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t stop in to get laid