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We Are Stories Mar 2020
gentle flowers under the sun
growing roots and growing up
brushing up against other stems
-feeling touch, feeling skin-
a soft brush on a petal
and it falls
right
off:
i never meant to hurt you
but i just didn’t think
to
stop.

i don’t want to be labeled by your names
i don’t want to be hurt for hurting again
i apologize for causing pain
but selfishness wants to never be treated the same!
i deserve the hate
i deserve your mistrust!
at least i hurt out of ignorance,
you hurt to make your hurt feel less than it does-

when all our
petals
fall to the
ground
will we
realize
the pain we’ve
given
to take back
all we’ve lost
has taken everything
that we have
and left us
paying the cost-
i know
i am the enemy
i know
that i have done you wrong
i learned my lesson,
took my shame,
but all your petals
at this rate
won’t last very long.
We Are Stories Oct 2019
if i
had one more to say
while you had to leave
would you stay
would you listen to me,
because some days
seem to agree
that some days
resonate deeply
with
me.
so
if i
had one more to say
would you stay
would you say its okay
or
would
you
walk
away.
would
you
walk
away?

- it's true
you asked me to stay
but, hey
tomorrow will be better
it better be great!
because
how bad can it get,
this must be the worst
the most hurt

yet-

- please don't mind
i wont be staying here
i have much too much to stay this near
to your fear-
-don't
you
understand
this is more
than
what you could demand-

-im too tired
to listen right now
i have a few things to attend to
to lend my time spent to
to speed and pay rent to
to pitch up my tent to
to try to amend to
to play pretend to
to follow and swallow and digest inside
to batter and barter and leave all behind!
So listen to me
I don't listen to you!
Won't you hear that I have not much time!
So keep your thoughts away!
And have a good day!
Because there's problems I have that are mine!


im not near you
i can't hear anyone
so could a whisper be sputtered from
somebody's
cold lips?
maybe felt from a cold kiss?
im not near you
i can't hear anyone
so could a word be formed,
killed, buried, reborn,
and let the storm of talk
reach my heart?
for it's lonely
am i the only
one
left
on
this

mountain?

it's lonely.

am
i
the
only
one
left
to
hold
me
closely?
We Are Stories Aug 2020
taking a look in the mirror
you find that there is mostly you;
the walls became smaller yet superior-
once they’re out there’s no coming back through.
and you
wonder why
as the days go by
the people you once had
in your life,
by your side,
leave and they never come back,
never try,
never climb
over those walls
with those apology letters saying
I
am
sorry
will you
please
forgive
me
now-
they’re not sorry
(they’re not sorry)
they’re not sorry
(they’re not sorry)
im not sorry
I’m not sorry!
if you wanted us to stay,
then why did you try so hard to push us away;
if all you wanted was equality
then why you try so hard to make your voice
the only voice I could hear, could breathe, could see, could believe, could stomach, or could retrieve!

as your walls go up
and the blinds fall down
don’t peek outside
to see if we’re around,
because you said it,
you said we should leave
simply because
we had disagreed;
you’re always saying, that we never listen
and when we stop talking, you finally get all your words in
to call us the blind, the defective, and the useless,
but a friend can only stay so long and endure all your bruises!
so when you look back at now, when quite some time has past
remember my words to you, though unsympathetic, they will last:
you were the hypocrite, pleading for peace but sparking rage,
disowning everyone you knew, hiding away in your cage!
and when the pain and hurt from others finally went away
you crawled back out just in time to reassure us that you still hate
everything that disagrees with anything that you do,
hitting us with harmful words, severing connections right through-

your
opinions
have poisoned yourself
I know
it’s because
you’re going through hell
and
you
just
want
some
company-
We Are Stories Apr 2021
have you seen his eyes?
or did the maggots get them first
when his skull sunk into dirt-

did the roots latch on and pull?
or did his body choose to dive deep
and anchor at earth’s feet-

was he wearing a crown?
or was his head scalped and dry
leaving no room for pride-

did they celebrate when his body was found?
everyone blames the one who seeks the skies
but forget they were born belowdecks-

I love to see children in session.
their lives are in harmonic transfantasia
until a conductor calls upon them for duty-

did you see which trains they boarded?
for they left in a rush
and may never remember their heartsong-

did anyone catch the conductors name?
a traveler near to a tender soul
can meld it to his very own-

will they remember home?
when the aromas return on a springs breeze
a new nose will turn away-

it won’t be long.
a foots journey will return
back where it belongs.

-for their dreams are drowned out by the whistle,
their hearts meander upon riches,
and their skulls blow away as what was good is enjoyed
by maggots
and dirt-
a slab-less crazing-
mixture of papier-mâché;
conformation of made-less things-
quagmire bracing to break;
lonesome drought-
steer clear of my thirst;
vacuum sealed lungs-
anguish waiting to burst;
-
purified water:
landfilled with kimberlites;
there are spotless skies
reflecting off sunspotted eyes;
purified water:
a laborer letting go;
callouses like dandruff drift-
like welcoming snow
-
a son lost comes home
skies filled - no longer alone;
dead rise again
healed, hopeful, looking
at
him.
We Are Stories Apr 2020
there is no guarantee that we get to cash in
when we feel the rug pull
out from under our heels and we start to slip
we get what we pay for
we get what we bought
and the life we have is really all we have
until it's not.
thats that, and theres nothing to it
We Are Stories Nov 2020
when the axe is poised above our head
and our foes brandish it with haste
to relieve our necks of their heavy dread
and to bring death, destruction, and shame-
i remember the words a song once said
of seeing a brother in the enemy's face
and will not fight back against my death,
and hope my foe’s soul wont meet my same fate.
We Are Stories Aug 2020
all open their eyes to fear
seeing nothing but what can't be escaped-
even in a world they paint,
what they create
can't get them out of here-
so we
tell stories
make up lies
make our selves feel better
  maybe in time
  we will find
  something that casts this cage away
  -forever
but until then we
search for truth
but ignore what's waiting
down at the bottom of the stairs
  they say
  don't stare
  don't focus too hard
  or you will find that your fate
  isn't
   going
    anywhere-
We Are Stories Feb 2020
fill me up with your tainted smell
bring me to heaven, but not to hell-
when I get back, let me think about
the good times
the colors
the laugh lines
all others
around-

slip deep inside my mouth
don’t let the contents pour back out
until the world absorbs deep inside
my thick skin
my eye lids
my blue heart
pulling me back in
tight-

i will tell
all my friends
i will tell
all my friends
and when I tell
all my friends
i will fill them
with enlightenment-

i will fill them
with enlightenment

i will fill them
with enlightenment

i will fill them
with enlightenment

i will fill them
with enlightenment.

we believe (we believe)
because we see (because we see)
hidden things (things that we cannot dream)
that we are (we stand and be)
opened up
sobered up
empty cup
cut and stuffed
in the gut
open cut
bleeding true
bleeding through
seeing past
seeing why
seeing truth
seeing lies,
and we think
because we see
that we’ve seen
everything,
but what you’ve seen
was a lie
what you’ve felt
wasn’t right,
and the feelings
you connect
with the moon
and the sky
only fill
you with clouds
in a thickly
clouded mind,
so please know
that your truth
is just pretty
painted skies,
hidden valleys
in the shadows
waiting for
your demise,
so try to escape
from the ways
trapped inside,
before this
brand new high
leaves you lower than the lowest, dead in bed on your side!
and we watch as they clean up your body, and tell us to say goodbye!
say goodbye!
say goodbye!

finding meaning in the clouds is nothing more than paper-wise-
feelings in our chest telling us what we feel inside-
We Are Stories Dec 2015
I prayed to God for the rain
But when the clouds turned black, I pointed my finger at his face.
How dare he bring all this change,
What about the summer sun, all the summer waves?
How dare he tell me I can't be the same..
I guess somewhere between my words, I got lost along the way.
We Are Stories Nov 2015
I hate the mask I wear
Behind my paper lines,
I hate the mask I wear
And all my un-rhymed rhymes.
I hate the fact that I'm some ghost
Who bleeds black ink onto my white host!
I hate the fact that I harbor my words
To the ships out at sea that all go unheard!
I hate the fact that I am a mess
And all I have left are these words of distress!

I hate that I try to make my self depressed
In order to write a poem that will truly impress!
I hate that I have to sit here everyday
Trying to write my problems away
Only to find
That behind the smeared lines
That I still am battling with my old demons!
That I still am battling with doubt!
Oh I hardly take time to care about the seasons
I just care about the problems I have going on now.

-And even at my best I'm just someone who can't write
And all my poems are a mask for my bloodiest fights
But tonight
I hope someone turns on the lights
And finds my dead corpse rotting off to the side,
I hope that for once it will all be fine
And my heart will stop beating before I start losing my mind-
We Are Stories Feb 2022
protect your mind
protect your skull
protect the hive
protect the hull
protect from lies
protect from stone
protect from flies
protect from bones,
you only get one egg shell
you only get one yolk
you only get to crack once
you only get one choke,
if you slip and you fall
and you spill it all
and the slime drips off
onto the clothe
and you can’t clean up
or contain its stuff-
than it might be time to admit this was the one chance you get

and you blew it-

86 miles per hour down the highway of my mind
like a fire is nipping at my heals to make something happen,
and if I don’t get to grabbin what’s mine and start havin a good time
than that fire might get up to my ankles
and burn through my tendons
suspending me into a fall;
and I don’t know how hard my head is
but I know it will spill open
regardless of how hard headed I am,
and how hard I believe I’m escaping a fire
and not trying to drive my car through the front door of your barricaded front porch
in order for you to notice
that I want to be
noticed.
We Are Stories Dec 2020
Thick smoke spit
My tonic
Swell eyes split
Black cloud fix
Late night drips
Late night sips
Sipping up sap
Sapping up tipsy
Tap taps on the tips
Watch the floor lifting
Shifting
Smash, crackle crispy
Crunch mc nuggets
Four AM grizzly
Grizzle grease griot
Giving slurred wispily
Words like the feet
Falling faster swiftly
Like the head shoulder
Knees toes tickling
The senses of motion
Devotion to sick things!
Sick things!
Sick things!
Few friends out late
Grab a cake
Grab a mate
Grab a bake
Grab a fate
Drive it fast
Make it last
Make it crash
Make it all end quickly!
Quickly!
While she sleeps softly
Coughing up blood
Never felt haunting
Wanting her to wake up
Like the day's drugs scoffing
I'm the same drunk drugged up mug
With a lie stuck to the name like made up love
Like made up stories of truth masked with icing on top
Like the cherry minus vanilla, minus chocolate, minus ice cream, minus nice things
Minus life, minus death, minus point, minus breath, minus art, minus stability, minus self sufficient tranquility!
Find life
Find it right
Find it tonight
Find it before it's time
Find it before it's out of sight
Find it before your friends dead in head lights
Find it before you're a murderer plastered on the headlines
Find it before you find out that you wasted all this time on bad highs
Bad rhymes
Pushing away coffee cake
And pineapple plates
For a daily dose of dead drives.
We Are Stories Sep 2020
there is a greying definition
of covering to protect-
the loosened tightening of fingers
contracting and outstretched.
one must take care to be gentle
with the laying on of hands
for the comfort turns to pain in time
with all the palm’s reprimands.
greyed between control and love
the words will stick and poke,
until the image stays full grasped-
what once was tender holding is now a choke.
We Are Stories Apr 2020
in the time that you see this i will be asleep in the bed all ******* in my thoughts like you said that i would and you always have been right that eventually i wouldnt stand in this fight and thats always been true thats always been you and you know what to do to make this all go through so just say those "nice" words to the back of my head sleeping soundly on top of my pillows of dread dreaming that the sounds like my heart would be
dead.

i dont want to hear it anymore i dont want to hear it anymore i dont want to hear it anymore i dont want to hear it anymore
i never wanted to hear it anymore
and thats why i blast the music until my ears bleed
to drown out the noises you keep sending raging after me
and i want to be free
see the world
see the free
and be me
but you keep chasing after the ends of my sentences begging to be apart of some world together
like this will last forever and that you have to fit yourself inside before the page runs out of lines to include us both in the same half a centimetre space
connected with no room to move
no room to breathe
no room to be free me or just simply be

so by the time that you see this hopefully i will be asleep and you will be asleep and you wont come to tell me your "nice" words again and wake me up to your screaming and we could all just go to sleep once without a fight of whos right and how youre right and new and true and how my blue is too much to live and breathe and
bloom.
“And the Lord’s servant
must not be quarrelsome
but kind to everyone,
able to teach,
patiently enduring evil,
correcting his opponents with
gentleness”

Why is it
That passion,
Anger- named zeal-,
Rebuke
Reproach,
And doom
Fill the tongue
Of those
Called to be
Peace-
Do you praise the one who cut off the ear
Do you praise those who would not hammer their swords to plowshares
Do you praise those who slaughtered men for their god
Do you praise those who use guns to silence their oppressors-
Is there no understanding?
Is there only passion?
Is there no Holy Spirit?
What fruit is born from your actions?
-
We were not called to destroy, but to be destroyed
We were not called to hate, but to be hated
Not to be loved, but to love-
Do we understand what it means to take up a cross
Can we patiently endure evil
Or must we destroy all evil
And evil doers-
Do we relish in our fallen enemies?
Do you find comfort that evil people go hell?
Do you enjoy their suffering
While never having suffered yourself-

May
The
Light
Pierce
Through
Every
Dark
Secret
Corner
And
Precious
Conviction
We
Try
To
Ignore
-
May
We
Change-
Be
Made
New-
Be
Better
Than
Before.
We Are Stories Jan 2016
Because when my mind finds the time
to sit back and stare blankly at white paper,
I can never find the right opening words,
something about the ocean
or the sunsets
or the cool breeze occasionally blowing in the summer,
that would be able to fully express
the way my eyes tear up
at the vapor like thought
of being able to sit here on the couch
and watch you smile for one more second.
We Are Stories Jan 2015
Dear Poets,
We are a wondering bunch of know it-
All's.
We breathe words and phrases
From our upright noses.
No one composes
A song that shows us
Or proposes
That we change the things we've chosen!
We love they way we live,
And we love the blood that pours from our fingertips
On to white paper.

What a hypocritical bunch are we,
Writing about death and life
As if we knew the answers to everything.
We Are Stories Mar 2020
it’s not the warm heart
that causes pollination  
from the honey bee

it’s just the static-
the spark between the partners-
rubbing off on them

both getting their way,
the bee and the new flower-
the wet dew glistens-

then they fly away,
maybe visiting someday-
moving on and out.

will they remember
the day they spent together-
i guess life moves on.
We Are Stories Jul 2023
does a sacred stone
still retain its worth
if it was never taken
from it’s hidden earth?
could it truly be
a treasure trove
if no one sees
its alluring glow?
-
is my mind right to tell me
that invisibility doesn’t cause irrelevance?
or is that just a way to cope with
the ever feared unfounded-forgotten-pestilence
We Are Stories May 2020
if you wake up
empty stomach
tired and hungry
and pour coffee down into the empty hole,
it will slide right through
- such is life;
sometimes
racing myself to the bathroom
is a more pleasurable experience
than not visiting those marble floors at all
that day
that week
those three weeks-
it is by far
the more pleasurable experience
to feel the burn in my stomach
the churn
and groan
than to have nothing happen at all
-such is life;
it is an odd enlightenment
to be aware of the pleasure received
from the release of what we spend filling ourselves up with.
we fill ourselves
we stuff ourselves
and we eagerly await to get rid of it,
and we enjoy it,
at least I do,
for although such things are not what we discuss,
it is what we feel
it is who we are
-such is life
We Are Stories Oct 2020
there aren't enough blank screens
and entertaining fillings
to make me feel like my words have meaning
and that life is worth taking off the gloves
touching
feeling-
breathing in and being thankful for living.
We Are Stories Jul 2021
you’re in such a rush to get to what’s next,
to the end of the page,
that you forget why you came here
in the first place.

you’ve forgotten the reason you were made
and replaced it with the busy day to day.
you can’t remember why you came here,
and yet you rush to get to the next place-
life is not a stop and go, pickup, drop shop,
where you can pick out your favorite gatorade
drink up
and feel like you’re top notch-
you’ve got to sweat in 89 degrees
with no AC
and heavy humidity
before you get through the ice cold doors
of the western beef,
buy yourself groceries,
get home,
and eat!
what I mean is,
you can’t just dream up a dream,
it has to be toiled over
until you can’t lift the weight of it in your hands anymore,
until it has to fly or sink,
and you have faith enough to leap after it
even if there’s no ground beneath your feet,
even if the chances are slim
and the captain begs you to stay on shore
and abort mission before your poorly timed transition
from dream to reality.

as long as you ignore reality.
and focus on what can be,
what can’t be now has room
to can.
We Are Stories Nov 2019
today marks 8 years
since i heard the news,
6 years since
we started walking askew
and only a few marking
the painful years i put us through-
for i always said sorry
i always said i loved you,
but what i meant was
“please don’t forget me and the words i let loose,
because i don’t know what love is,
i don’t think i ever knew,
because November 22nd,
my dad left the house, my mom left too
to find a comforting bed
in a house brand new
with a new naked body
a new silhouetted view,
and i sat here wondering-
‘They said they loved me,
Does love leave you too!’”







so it doesn’t surprise me that i couldn’t hold up to any pauses
any breaks
any time alone
any detachment
any moment of somber tones
and i clung to you
like you were the last love i’d ever know
like your words were their empty promises
that everything would be ok, that i would like living in 2 homes

- but here i am 8 years later,
thinking that i’m over it all
thinking that i can learn from my past,
but the fear and tears still grip my face
knowing that the lingering hurt will always last-
We Are Stories Nov 2020
faintly it can still be heard
crawling with
overgrown nails
up the creaking ribs
crunching on each bone
spreading deadly poison.
inside us all
lives
this desolated creature
waiting to fill our lungs
and with forceful breath
fly out into the wind-
it can still be heard
gnawing
growing
fattening itself
to spread it's diseases
until the regurgitation inclination
springs it upward
and out toward the air,
to consume
and destroy
all of it's enemies-
We Are Stories Nov 2020
the gateway
guarded by your skull
leads many to their grave,
reminds many of the way home,
for the paths burned through
lead to all too familiar places,
and the burns of rage and true way
leave all too familiar traces-
how can we move forward
when the gateway leads you to fear?
how can we move forward
when the road to purpose only faintly appears?
we have our sight
but our mind’s eye isn’t clear-
we lift our bodies
but our mind’s soul won’t make a move,
won’t get out of here.
our hearts burn true to lead us to our destiny
but honestly
we’re trapped inside this hopeless mind, and we’ll forever be
And never leave
unless we change the prison we know, with gruesome force
and change our course
in time-
We Are Stories Feb 2023
they will look at me and roll their eyes
and bring me down for being ridiculous,
for being exaggerated
like foam spilling over the top of a pint glass-
but as they roll their eyes
and point out their reeled in lines,
i will not let them know that i am smiling
at the little-more slack-
the little-less grip;

sometimes these faces go weeks without a smile-
even if i am being torn down
little by little,
i am thankful to see the creases of a smile,
and to hear the sweet sound of disapproving laughter.
We Are Stories Aug 2020
you ask yourself
you trust yourself
and you go on your way

you believe your truth
you accept your proof
and you go on your way

you live life with max ease
you do as you please
and you go on your way

but you can't trust yourself
you can't trust anyone else
to give you the answers, and show you the way

so just know that you don't
that you always won't
or either muster the confidence to simply say

"i don't know what i'm doing"
"theres no way of knowing"
"i'm trying to make the best of my fate"

or

"i trust in the stars"
"i leave life up to chance"
"i believe there's a God still showing me grace"
We Are Stories Oct 2019
In case you missed it-
I will never care about the miles or distance
Between our feet or the hearts that we live with.
Cut open my skin and you’ll find in an instant
The blood that thickens
Is consumed with the same blood that brought us together!
And I know that we’ll always miss this-
The simple imprints
Of hearts clasped without the intention to sever!
I would never!
I would never!
I would never!
I would never!
I would never let you slip past these walls
The ones we built to cushion every fall!
I would never let you out of this home!
Without you there’s just dried out bones!

-in case you missed it-
My hearts the happiest when you’re in it.
You’re never a burden, Im happy you’re in it!
My heart is warmed when you’re close
And I miss you when you’re far away from home.
You have a home with me, wherever I am,
And I will always be excited to see you again.
We Are Stories Dec 2020
you hear the call
you answer the call
you follow the call
you chase after the call
but after all
who is calling
who is taking the fall
who are you leaving behind
back on the wall
an empty hall
shouting empty calls-
who are you leaving
to pursue what you are believing-
who is at the back hand
of your swing-
who is carrying the burden
that you’re carrying-
who takes up your cross
as you carry a wooden symbol
claiming that you hear the call-
i sit and wonder if you heard nothing after all
except the voices inside the heart
where deception befalls-
We Are Stories Apr 2020
not a soul in sight

will we be alright
here
under a lonely light

when the lamp goes cold
that’s all that i
fear
We Are Stories Jul 2017
if I set myself on fire
drench myself in gasoline
will it melt through my skin
and **** the cells with thoughts and schemes-

-for the longest time
I'd illuminate my words
hope for the best
and let the cauldron stir!
I hope
that
the witchcraft
crafts
a new heart's
bath
in blood and
wrath!
my dream was
to create a song
dark enough to let
my thoughts sink in!
black enough to make
my white skin gone!
thick enough to choke
my throat till it splits!
**** down the blood from the slits!
call out to death for his kiss!

If I set myself on fire!
Will that be the end!
Will I be purified!
No longer play pretend!

-i never wanted to watch the swing set
set its chains down to rest
turn my eyes to hollow forecasts
and let my past take final breaths-

you are not alone-
the shadows ever stirred
the angels on the walls
the anger all unheard!
you are not alone-
the monsters in the dark
the heavens in their tears
the callous of the heart!
you are not alone!
the teeth grind in the sleep
the bathroom groans in pain
the dripping from the sink!
you are not alone!
the times down on your knees
the rashes on your elbows
the prayers prayed for weeks!
you are not alone!
the knocked-down-black-eyed breaths
the arms now pushing up
the taking of the final steps-

you are not alone-
for though you are on  fire
drowning in the ocean
the breath will not expire
though the water should
it wont end the flames
deep inside the heart
is where the war is raged.
don't let those hands down
box until your dead!
turn not now until the grave is cracked
against the match with father death!
We Are Stories Nov 2016
we see life through eyes shoved deep in a clothes dresser
-dressed in one style, one choice, one black or white sweater
we are the oppressed or the oppressor
we either question or we answer
we either are racist or we are racist-
it doesn't matter within which color you exist
at one point or another you are the blunt of every man's expense
the traitor or the one with the knife in your back-
turn around and your friends are nowhere fast-
build up a blind eye and you missed the opportunity to chose a side
and now your an inactivist- a pacifist
someone who's breath is saved is not valid, this
life style leaves us bent between broken lips
and bad lies heard from different separatists
bent on making a society divided on who's right and who's wrong, what's the matter with this!
battle each other with harsh words and confrontational jargon fits!
spit on each other, barely walk away and shake our fists!
is there not enough wisdom for us to understand
that we are merely just imperfect man-
must we argue over who is the most persecuted, most bruised!
we-
who live in a country with the most benefits for you to choose!
we-
the ones who live in an electrical utopia and a house too!
we-
the ones who barely have to question anything, we just receive and we roost-

selfish enough to carry broken glass mirrors on our masks
and stare forever into our forever broken collapse-
if your not on a side, than you are useless to the system who wants you to **** your brothers and fellow humans-
if you have an opinion, you are a zealot who needs to be purged-
when will we see that these are both wrong.
when will we see anything but ourselves
We Are Stories Oct 2020
someone came along
and cut the string-
scissors in hand
with malicious intendings;

its fun to watch things fall
or weightless things float to the ceiling
to watch them crack open
or lose shape at the breaking endings-

and i
run back to see
the things i kept close to me
are destroyed or out of reach-
just a boy
staring at the sky
wondering when that balloon will come back down for me-
or when the rubber will touch the sun and begin melting.
We Are Stories Sep 2021
precious feet are walking
down the same old street
and from the mouth there’s talking
a proud and joyful speech
but eventually the same old gets to be too old
and the young at heart divert the path just to see what may unfold

a new day brings
a brand new breeze
and the sun is rising
to erase all dreams
all hearts are beating
for the newborn sun
but the heat index
will melt everyone
eventually the same old gets too same and old
and the young at heart will melt away just to see what may unfold

I’m so passionate for the poison
and I will drink until it’s gone
and mark myself for death and burial
until the moon replaces the sun
I pick up precious things
with the needles underneath
never knowing what sinks inside
and what latches on with teeth-
inside of me

I can’t close my eyes for too long
or whatever is inside will divide and emerge
from deep beneath the caverns and the walls
and begin another purge!

I wish I never
picked up what was forbidden
and began my endeavors
to find what was hidden!
I can blame my shepherds
for having different names
but when I’m lying naked
I can only curse the rain!
the cold will subdue me
and will muffle all the crying
but when the clouds move and awaken
it’s easy to see that I’m dying
and I lied to those around me
and I lied to myself
when you had found me
I said I never needed help
but now I am broken
and I can’t trust in my intuition
and when words are spoken
they bring only inhibition!
I can’t start and I can’t stop
and I try hard but i can’t walk
my feet are paralyzed
but my mind has reason to still talk!
my feet are hole-y and I still whole-y
believe that I am still unholy
while blood and sweat try to control me
the poison I drank was enough to dull my blade
and make me a breakable
unsharpened
craggy
knife!

and **** me for life-
Y
We Are Stories Feb 2015
Dear God...
It's been a long road of depression and weeping,
And I don't know how many tears I can keep seeing
Until those last pieces of my shattered heart
Crumble to my creeping floors!

These floors are mopped with salt!
I have shined these floors with the blood seeping from my eyes!
I can't take another person telling me that they've thought of suicide!
I've tried to sound like I've enjoyed all my pain!
But God you and I both know that I hate it!
I hate it so much God!
And I've been grieving for so long God!

My pen can only take so much black ink
Before it explodes in my pocket and ruins everything.
My mind can only take so many words
Before I've wept until my head hurts!
God I can only take so many stories
Before I myself have become their mourning!

My dear friends...
My heart breaks to know that you have thought about the end.
We were never created to hate ourselves so much that we shatter glass
And open up yellow bottles  to try and push our life back.

If you can't find another reason to live for, just live for me.
Because I still do nothing but scream
Until God hears everything!
I will not stop praying until I see you free!
Because you are still my family!
And I will fight
Until you see the light,
Because I know that you can still be alive!
We Are Stories Dec 2023
I lie down in a meadow’s grove
lay down my roots and bloom
I grow tall in a cozy home
laying roots down beside roots.
all around are the forest folk
with their fur and whiskered smiles
a gentle breeze does this forest blow
bringing bees like pollen filled isles.

all is well that ends well
and this ship ain’t ending soon
a sunset dawns and the day awaits
for the sleeping of the full sized moon.

I awake to more rustled steps
and the sound of life’s new tune
a dozen days lead into months,
it’s now years since I had just moved.
all around are the forest folk
with their love and out stretched arms
a gentle breeze does this forest blow
and the nights fill our heads with stars

all is well that ends well
and this ship ain’t ending soon
a sunset dawns and the day awaits
for the sleeping of the full sized moon.

decades pass and I open my eyes
to gaze at this empty grove
no trees are left beside my roots
no friends to call my home.
I miss the day when all the forest folk
ran under my arms and smiled,
now a wind so fierce does this forest blow
bringing dread, fear, and things most vile.

all is well that ends well
but this ship sailed way too soon
a sunset dawns and yet I’m still awake-
a cloud blocks back the light of the moon.

The Watchmen look from their tower above
and take pity on my withered leaves
the three of them take powerful arms
and finally uproot this tree-
I am taken for miles a day a times
far from that old withering state
and as I open my eyes again
I look upon many a familiar face-

all is well that ends well
as I end up in their arms
forest folk, trees, and so many more,
dace for joy in the light of our moon.

-I’m just glad I got to be with you-
-I’m just glad I ended up with you-
We Are Stories Jun 2021
i used to have nightmares
around nine o' clock
where my dad would burst through my door
screaming like his face would fall off,
and then he'd rush to grab me
and then I'd cower away,
and then my bed would swallow me whole,
i couldn't handle these demon days.
but when i'd wake up
and see your sour eyes
I'd try to think of a way
to escape your sour mind
before you could unhinge
your dangling jaw
and scream:
"you are good for nothing, and you have no brains at all!"
-i'd rather not be here
lying wide awake,
but then again,
which hell should i choose today?-
We Are Stories Nov 2023
But it was the past
And I didn’t care too much
I had my chance
This was a dance
Thank you for calling me off the wall-
You are a favorite memory
So the story goes
You are a favorite memory
Thank you for calling me off the wall-
This was a dance
I had my chance
And I didn’t care too much
But it was the past
We Are Stories Dec 2015
I remember the days when I knew
Or I thought I did everything I could do
To make this something that involved me and you
But my worst thoughts were the ones that got through
And broken glass has been all that lies in my center view.
I remember when
I was a kid and nobody ever questioned a single thing that I did
Now I'm the only kid
That stares hard at my hands and ***** the joy out of the life I live.
I was a care free heart devoted to the only Son
That shines bright, the only holy one,
But that was some time ago.
Nowadays I am captured by my fear, and driven by making time slow.
Oh God,
You can take the decisions I've made, all the days all the nights,
If it means that I have my heart back and can once more see the light,
Because I'm tired of being so lost in my own past
And all the things I wish I had.
I spend all my days just wishing
That I had a day where I'd stop giving away all I've given,
But I don't care if life is something that keeps me driven,
As long as I can remember that you're alive, you're risen.
Tell my friends I love them
And embrace them harder than I would've,
Keep my heart close to yours,
And help me find my way back to you
And to those sunsets I fell in love with in Africa,
Like the moon.
Like the dust blowing in the distant breeze.
Like the rain pattering down and flowing out in my streets.
Let me fall in love with you all over again,
Because those were my most joyful moments.
There are so many little tiny things.
Have you ever tried to count every pixel
Have you ever sat and counted the fibers in a rug
Have you ever traced the lines in your skin
A speckled masterpiece
Mashed mathematics and marshal law-
You are a magnet of tiny little magnitudes.
A mountain of meticulously managed meadows and malleable materials-
You are a mess from a mixologist,
But a drink so sweet
Seep deeply through every tone of button of shirt and stuffing
Be free
Be pixel sized if need be
Be kingdom
Be kindness
Be a rampart of rest to every microscopic dust particle
Be a tree
A happy tree
-
But don’t be not-
Not is such a word
None
Such a word
Nothing
Such a word
There’s no such thing as not
We always have
We always have had
And we will always
Thankfully.
-
There are so many thankful ways to live and breathe
So many breaths to take
So many contemplations to breath in with every single day
Whether you’re a happy tree
A scratch on marble
A bit of white fur in the rug
A stain
A bundle of skin muscle and bone-
There will always be more than enough to be thankful for
Even when we think about not
Even when we believe in not
Be fruitful
Be multiples not dividends
Be sappy
Be slimy
Be sloppy
Be a particle floating in a vast chasm
Be the sun itself
Be free
Be you.
We Are Stories Jan 2015
Years go by and it's hard for you to see
The fall leaves that danced with us by the trees.
Do you remember me?
Do you remember me?
You say bye and that it's hard for you to leave
This place in time where its only you and me.
Do you remember me?
Do you remember me?
Because I remember some promise
That we made and we said we were honest,
And that we never would find ourselves so far away from each other.
And we would never forget to help when it was hard and we began to suffer.

I still remember the day of our first encounter.
I was spending time trying to fool myself
That I was still as cool as everyone else,
As I asked for loose change to get some food from the counter.
I guess even though you were far away
I knew that I wanted to know your name.
So one day I walked back far enough to catch up with you
And even if you didn't know, I think I fell in love with you.

I guess you could say it was love at first sight!
But no one seems to remember; no one but I!
I didn't care what they said about you,
Because I saw how beautiful you really were!
Before you grew up and people said you were pretty,
My heart fell in love with you.

But the years go by and I still remember that promise!
That promise that never seems to bring anything but conflict!

Oh dear, I know we don't speak.
No, we barely even begin to think
Of the days that we used to have.

Oh dear I know that we don't even try anymore!
But I still miss hearing you!
I miss sharing those memories together!
Even if last time was the last I would see you forever!

I don't know why when I haven't thought of you in months,
I find myself missing all those days that we spent in the rain.




Dear home,
You were never perfect.
I never found pleasure within my doors.
I was either surrounded by fights,
Or a divorced husband and wife.
I've never really been fine
In this dull house of mine.
I looked and looked but I couldn't find
Any place! Anywhere I could hide!
Dear family!
Do you think of me!
I love you all so dearly!
I miss those days when
I came down your pavement!
Can you say it!
Can you just say it!
Can you just tell me once more that you love me...




I've loved you for nine years,
And I don't think you've loved me for one
And I don't think you've loved anyone.
I want to be done.
I can't wait another nine years
To wait just to hear
That even though I've loved everything about you,
You want a life that has me left without you.
Dear, you've never seen that I actually cared.
Dear, you've never seen who I am.



I miss my memories!
I cling hard to these
Days that I repeat
Just as I fall asleep!
Dear Lord!
Help me!
I can't believe!
That all dreams
Die and bleed!



Last night I had a dream
That you ran out of reason to believe!
You were pregnant at eighteen
And you said this is alright to me!
You left for someone you never loved!
You left for someone you never knew!
Oh being far from home has made us all so broken!
We can't think in the state of having choices to be chosen!
We make the wrong mistake over and over
Until we're left with a life with no cover.
Oh I wish this life was just a dream
Where I can close my eyes and change everything!
I'll close my eyes until I'm blind and my eyes can't see!
Because this world has never been the way it should be!
You told me that God wasn't real!
What happened to those twelve years of love, what's the deal!
What's the appeal!
Why do you state something that you don't really feel!




My mind is a wandering machine
Reminding me of things I never need.
It keeps repeating patterns useless to repeat.
It keeps carrying notes on until it loses it's beat.
It's a pulsing soar between my teeth.
Sometimes I wish it would just fall out and die on some street,
Forgotten between the cracks on concrete.
Leaving me behind is something I need so desperately.

I've spent so many years trying to figure it all out.
I've tried to make sense of what my life is now.
All I ever wanted was an answer to any of the shouts I screamed at night
As I laid down and wondered why it all has come to this.
All I ever wanted in this dessert dry life
Was to get up and dance  before life was more than simple bliss.

I've tried everything from wrong to right
But nothing calms the pain that seems to be
An everlasting chain around my throat!
I battle with the consequences
Of leaving life to second guesses!
I battle with the consequences
Of leaving it to their rusting wrenches!
I leave my life in their hands
And I plead to their demands
As I watch them take what they can
And leave me as the only one that stands.
Take me back before I left
All my life in their foul breath
And started to believe in them,
Because all they are, are diggers in deep depths!



Oh October had a noose so I thought I'd take a swing
And ride on it's long drop and sail on it's wings.
Oh it gave me such a rush until my head fell free.
Oh we think life's so good, and then we all bleed.
Oh October had a noose so I thought I'd have this dance
and I thought I'd take it's hand and begin this romance.
Oh it gave me such a rush until my head fell free.
I never knew I'd be missing such a big part of me!
Oh October had a noose so I thought I'd give it a try!
I thought I'd go ahead and give up on all my life!
Well it felt so good at first
Until it left me in a hearse!
I thought I'd give it's noose a go,
But it left so fast that death's all I know!
We Are Stories Dec 2015
It's been too long since I heard that sound of your sails blowing in the breeze.
We were once a friendly band of brothers, but now I'm just lonely company.
Lonely stifling-
Steady lonely drifts down memory lane
As I try and recall how it felt before the rain,
Before you and I became a lullaby
That I have to sing to close my eyes-
Before death and life were no surprise,
Before I felt the hope inside me die-

Before the storm came passing by
I used to fall in love.
I used to sing with all my heart and dance before the burning sun!
I used to watch the waves go by, as I loved my company of two!
But after dark I close my eyes; I doubt that I'll ever see you.

I doubt that somewhere there might be another sunlight,
Another star sight!
Another love's type!
Another blue sky!
Another bird's cry!
Another new life-
Another memory left for you and I-

-No,
I can't imagine what it'd be like
To hold your hand, to hold it tight-
Shut my eyes, shut my eyes,
Before I start to realize
That nothing can ever be right!
-I want to imagine you again!
Another memory to share with a wonderful friend!
Another dream to be told, another lifetime to spend-
I would give it my all!
-I would do it again-

If it meant I'd see you up ahead
We Are Stories Oct 2015
This road used to be my worst memory-
The remembrance of snow angles and frozen finger tips-
And my heart beats
To the rhythm of that song I hate.

The pavement slips beneath
The tires in the car we drive.
My head tried it's best to sing,
But I'm still distracted by the street lights.

The dusk shadows low
As the mountains reach out to accept the looming clouds.
And I like to think
That somewhere past the skyline
There's a home waiting for me.

I daydream of the stories I'll never write
And I night-dream of ones I never wrote,
And I'll never have enough of my thoughts complete
To complete these thoughts still haunting me.

The roads still scare me-
I am reminded that my future is never certain-
I am afraid of watching those white lines pass right by my windows
And right out of my life
Without letting me say goodbye.

- So let me say goodbye to those memories
So that my tires can rotate a bit more-
We Are Stories Oct 2020
Holly smokes a packet a day
and it makes her voice sound raspy-
but business can’t stop you from being a babe,
but these babes just ain’t that classy-
and you can shake what your momma gave ya
and get all that you need crassly
but that can’t stop the people from starting to say
“I think that girl gets nasty”.
We Are Stories Apr 2019
-the remedy to this loneliness
Is the sad sound of your heartbeat
As the door creaks shut as you reminisce,
Remembering that you're parting!
Part ways with your second half
And wait and see how long that lasts
Before you're broken, beat up, crying on the floor
Begging time to take you away, you can't take anymore!
Because your screams in the shower can't fix a single thing!
No matter what you try to do this is the life you bring!
And you can't take back all the things that you've done!
The consequences will stay, they still weigh a ton!
And you miss just the words of the one who's still dear,
But the absence of voices makes you grow deeper in fear-

-until the sound of your doubting is all that you hear-

the trees sway back and forth
and the air grows thin,
the apple shakes a little more
as it's blown by the wind.
the basket lays now beneath
but as the storm slips in
the basket moves now from the tree,
the lights fade to dim.
the apple shakes a little more,
the darkness closes in.
the falling face now to the floor,
the darkness closes in,
the falling face now to the floor,
the darkness closes in.
-so tell me!
what did you mean when you said
you would be their to catch me when I fall!
was it a joke from the start,
was it serious at all-
the basket blows down the hill,
the tumbling apple follows too,
-it's sad to say when I'm closer to dead
I feel now I'm close to you.
It's sad to say when this is all in my head
I find I fell completely through!
you were made of yarn, never complete
how could I be what you choose!
no matter what I'd fall through your strings
there was nothing I could do-
We Are Stories Dec 2019
“a righteous man
picks up his cross,
gathers his loss,
and walks-
reaching for the heavens,
speaking to a passerby,
talking about the afterlife
and how good Jesus is-“

meanwhile-
another baby body is bent and broken
by a father’s “bravery” to believe in something bigger
than the breaths of his boy, his girl, his new born Bethlehem-
Because
Jesus called him.

-I find it hard to believe-
that God in his glorious grace
would give you a mission, to leave their sweet faces
and depart from this place
to carry a block of wood
to witness to others
while losing your children
your wife
your love
your spirit
your humanity-
i don’t think God has called you to anything-

You’re another pompous prophet
Professing his prophecies to impressionable people
To hide the fact that you’re facing much more than you fear to mention
And that you haven’t heard the voice of the lord or felt his love’s tension
And you carry this cross, but haven’t picked the one up in your eye; you are week and feeble.
You speak of goodness
But bring nothing but sorrow
You speak of love
Yet love to hate,
You think yourself a high priest,
But you are no servant.
Let the blood of a bitten tongue
Be the pain lasting longer
Than your false song
Slowly getting stronger.
We Are Stories Feb 2015
I have pressed you so hard upon my head
That I don't think I could ever forget
Those pictures floating around like a group of haunting ghosts,
And when I shut my eyes tight I still hear them boast!

I died at the age of thirteen
When someone on MySpace sent me a link
To some page labeled "nudes here: all free",
And my heart, heavy weighted, proceeded to take a peek!
Oh I wish my eyes never got to see!
I wish I never had to know what is out in front of me!
I had gotten all that I'd wanted!
Little did I know that five years down the road I'd give anything to go back.

Sleep sweet!
That's what they tell me!
As if I never was guilty
Of looking at something so filthy!
Oh my eyes knew!
Oh my mind knew too!
The only thing pulling me closer was the desire
To feel that high and the get higher!
I never needed any spark to start my fire!
All I needed was a thought to get me inspired.

I just want to go back to when I still had any kind of innocence!
Before I knew exactly what ******* is!
I'm still trying my best to find some way to live.
We Are Stories Jul 2023
Can words really move mountains
or shatter through steel?
more than that,
I find words to be idolatrous temples
paying reverence to the self god,
spoiling, decaying,
bringing finality and ruin.

there is no cure to words
there is no stopping what a mouth can create,
words surpass auditory expression.

fear the words that have yet to be spoken
loudly enough to destroy the stars in the heavens
and obliterate life as we know it.
We Are Stories Nov 2020
just an undercooked
distasteful rare
half way there
mouthful of hair
always striving
with underwhelming care
to do my least best
the least that i can
the least i can bare
-
yet that's all it takes
to be standing here
making clear
with joyous sneers
praised for malintent
in how i lead my peers
to do their least best
the least that they can
the least they can fear
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