More.
More, more, more!

Is it always wrong to long for more?

I know what I want, I know what I need,

It’s right there, within my reach,

Tugging at its sleeve,

My eyes devour it greedily,

Soaking in my desire.
Please, give it to me

I can’t bring myself to take it.

my god is in a four hour long phone call
my god is in my lovers laugh
my god is the smoke drifting out the window
my god is stolen kisses
my god is a dull pocket knife
my god is passing out in my clothes
my god is love letters
my god is sunken eyes
my god is stealing from the liquor cabinet
my god is a ripped pair of blue jeans
my god is sneaking out at night
my god is making out in the park
my god is heartbreak
my god is listening to music too loud
my god is walking on the edge of a cliff
my god is a cold beer
my god is a pack of cigarettes
my god is a broken mirror
my god is a blood soaked towel
my god is dreaming of them
my god is waking up in a sweat
my god is teardrops on your pillow
my god is burnt flesh
my god is broken knuckles
my god is blood in the sink
my god is broken glass
my god is unanswered prayers
my god is unanswered texts
my god is a rifle
my god is a bullet
my god is darkness

Your skin is as soft as velvety lamb's ear, fresh from the woods,
Your smile is as bright and captivating as tiger's eye,
You grow like tomatoes, constantly stretching out and reaching out to the sky, advancing towards your goals.
Your heart is sweeter than a summer lemon drop melon, off of the vine,
Your cascading locks of hair are the envy of even the most majestic waterfall,
I guess what i'm saying is that I love nature, I see nature in you, and I love you.

I want to be nowhere special,

with no one special.

Our home, just walls and quiet rooms,

our cars, worn but dependable,

our bank accounts simple,

our clothes, nothing to boast about.

Our food, plain and comforting,

our jobs, unremarkable but steady,

our phones, just tools for connection.
But in the midst of it all,

we will be something quiet,

something real.
We will be enough,

without ever needing to be special.

The loyal dog, bound to the feet of others,
Guarding, guiding, no matter the cost.
No claws, no tools, only teeth,
Tearing through the night,
Dyeing the fur red.
Scarring the legs, the chest,
Every fight adding more scars,
Some mental, some physical.
If he’s done well,
He might get the bones discarded from the table’s meal,
A flicker of praise,
And in that fleeting moment, he will be happy.
But still, the hunger gnaws.
This isn’t about a dog.

I will always be in love with you
You are my only one
Like Icarus to the sun
I got ahead of myself and got burned
My love has been engulfed in flames
Thinking, but not with my brain

I will always be in love with you
You are my only one
Like Icarus to the sun
I got ahead of myself and was consumed
My love has been engulfed in flames
a multitude of things are to blame
a lack of communication
being on separate sides of the nation
broken pieces trying to fit together
although my heart is light as a feather
it feels as though my chest consists of lead

I don’t have to have everything figured out to do the things I’m interested in.
For does the hermit crab let its shell crush it before selecting another?

I don’t have to be totally secure to love and be loved.
Does the redwood wait until it’s fully grown to offer its shade?

I don’t have to be financially stable to have a good time.
The deer frolic and dance, never troubled by rent or savings.

I don’t have to be healed to start living my life.
The forest doesn’t wait for the trees to regrow after a fire before painting the hillside green again.

this site and writing poetry was a great outlet so that i didnt **** myself, and it helped me to figure out who i am and what i wanted in my life. i genuinely think that writing poetry saved my life. that being said i dont need it anymore, hopefully i never have to come back to writing poetry, because if i do it means that i am doing bad again.

I type and delete.
I write and erase.
I compose and destroy.
The poems I haven't written could fill books.

The way his words cascaded down upon me like a never ending waterfall of wisdom and love
I was unable to quench my thirst
His arms reaching out in a loving embrace enveloping me in warmth
There was no place id rather be
His eyes deep and dark seemingly endless in their striking beauty
I could get lost in them
His lips, dear lord, his lips
Electricity coursing throughout my veins from head to toe when our stardust collided in a world shattering show of true beauty.
Gabriel.

I am not a poet
I am not an eloquent man with a pen in my hand letting it dance along the pages in a captivating dance
It is a stop and go, stumbling and tripping over feet out of beat awkward hobble
I am not a creative person spilling my soul onto the pages like blood from a stab wound
I am a scab that keeps getting reopened small bursts of blood and healing and bleeding all over again
I am not in touch with my inner self i can't tell you how im feeling right now
i am a smooth hard rock weathered from years of wear
i am not a poet, i am a child writing stories

You said to write you poetry, and that you'd be mine.
Looks like someone beat me to it.

I am not a bottle of shampoo.
Yet I keep watering myself down,
diluting everything that once made me
rich, whole, enough.

I stretch myself thin,
like plastic pulled too far,
translucent, fragile.
I work too much,
as if sacrificing my life could patch the leaks.

I am afraid to take up space.
Afraid that presence is too loud,
that my fullness might offend.
So I pour myself out in teaspoons,
measured, polite, disappearing.

If I keep watering myself down,
there will be nothing left
of the original product,
just a bottle,
and a label full of water.

Branded, but empty.

teardrops on a bedroom pillow
blood drops into the bathroom sink
my heart drops into my stomach
my voice drops to a monotone whisper
my body drops to the floor
my mother drops me off at the hospital
morticians drop my body into the casket
the priest drops the casket into the earth
the worms drop into my hollow chest

everytime i see a german shepard i see you
evertime i hear scripture i hear you
everytime i smell **** i smell you
everytime i touch a keyboard i feel you
everytime i taste hot cocoa i taste you
everytime i feel love i feel you
how am i supposed to forget you when you are in everything i do?

I carry fragments of every version of myself.

A scared kid, alone, waiting in a car,
the world just beyond the window,

a quiet ache in my chest.

A troubled teen,

fingers trembling,

seeking solace in the burn of tobacco.

A young adult,

locked in a cage I built,

controlled by the world and its expectations.
But in the stillness of all these lives I've lived,

I’ve never surrendered.

I’ve learned how to survive.

I’ve fought battles, against myself, against the world,

I've been knocked down more times than I can count,
But I always get up.
I still work,

a slow, steady progress,

never perfect,

but always moving forward.

I don't know why I do the things that I do.
I know that I can get scared,
I know that I can be a lot,
I just feel safe when I'm with you
I think I used to make you feel,
how you make me feel,
I will get back to that,
I promise.

You were young, barely 16.
****** into a world of hate and pain.
You were sensitive and fragile.
Too soft for this world.
You took your life in front of the room we shared our favorite class.
The cops said you did it the night before.
I cant get the image of your cold body hanging from the gutter out of my mind.
Why did you do it?
Were you scared?
Were you sad?
Were you bullied?
The cops said the only two things you had on you were your rubix cube, and the signed ticket to the play we saw together.
You were always playing with that **** rubix cube, showing it off and messing around.
I won’t be able to look at one ever the same.
I still have the picture i took of you with the cast members.
The smile from ear to ear as you went through and showed me each signature and told me who they played in it.
Every day i see something that reminds me of you.
Should i follow in your footsteps?
Today marks a week since you took your own life.
Im full of sadness, guilt and anger.
How do i move on from this.

i hope you see me at the bottom of your glass
i hope you see me in your sunday mass
i hope you see me in your saturday cartoons
i hope you see me in the summer rain
i hope you see me in the cracked porcelain
i hope you see me in the smile of a child
i hope you see me in the sun upon your back
i hope you see me in your afternoon snack
i hope you see me in the daisy growing through the cracks in the sidewalk
i hope you see me in the face of everyone you love
i hope you see me in the beauty of a dove
i hope you see me in the ember of your cigarette
i hope you see me in every dog you pet
i hope you see me in your lovers eyes
i hope you see me in your dreams
i hope you see me in your favorite sports teams
i hope you see me in your nightmares
i hope you see me in your mirror
i hope you see me when you start thinking clearer
i hope you see me in the faces of a close friend
i hope you see me in the end
cause god knows i see you

I want to french kiss you
with a grenade in my mouth

I’m standing here, outside your door

Tell me what’s behind your secret war

Take my hand, guide me through your storm

Lead me to the place where we’re reborn


Don’t cry, love me till the morning light

Make this moment feel like it’s all right

Tell me I won’t have to leave tonight

Pretend we’re safe from the world’s sharp bite


Hold me close, don’t let this slip away

Keep me here, in the silence we’ll stay

Forget the time, forget the coming day

In your heart, I’ll find a place to lay

If the stars should align to make our futures the same,
I'd spend every day playing our game,
Our game of love, mischief and aches,
Playing and swimming in shimmering lakes,
Romping around between the trees,
***** hands and scraped knees,
Playful giggles and stolen kisses,
I'll play the Mr. if you'll play a Mrs.
A time of growing, learning and change,
If only the stars would rearrange.

The hand that beat you becomes the one that wipes away the tears,
The back that turned away from you becomes the one to carry your weight,
The shadow that cast upon you becomes the shade in which you find solace.
Funny,
how pain learns to cradle you,
or how we learn to let it.

long as theres blood running through these veins
long as there's a pulse
long as theres breath in my chest
ill never give up
ill fight tooth and nail
as long as i am alive i will never give up
they always said boys like us was stubborn
always taking the hardest route
but always gettin what we wanted
we start where we are
use what we got
and do what we can
thats our mantra
and ain't nothing get in our way that we cant fight our way through

sparking up a joint i look out at the field where i spent my summers as a child
the fence where i tore my hand on the barbed wire
the greenhouse with the window
still broken from the baseball thrown a little too hard
it all seems so far away
as if it were from another life
and in a way
it is
no longer am i a child
awaiting recess and nap time
now i await my nightly smoke and another day of being heartbroke

You were my sunshine, I loved to feel your warmth on my back, and your beauty radiating upon my face.
Sunshine is good for you, in small quantities. I didn’t mind the sunburns I’d get and would take all the vitamin D I could get.
Prolonged exposure to sun can cause sunburns, premature skin aging (though that may have been attributed to the cigarettes you made me addicted to)  skin damage (from the knives you’d drag across my body, you were always a sadist)  and skin cancer. You were a tumor, slowly killing me, and I had to cut you away from me. I’m in remission, I pray to God that you don’t make me go through this again, no amount of treatment, whether it be cannabis or prayer could save me a second time.





I am vitamin D deficient.

Was it she who took you from me?
She who filled your mind with falsities?
She who painted me with blacks and red, when you knew in your heart that we were yellows and blues?
She never did like me, but I can't tell you how much it hurts that she would get through to you this much.
My life was planned around you and i'm not so sure that i can draft more plans.
A bottle of whiskey and a handgun are much cheaper than a flight, but I was willing to buy that flight.
She is unbelievably good at telling you how to feel, I just wish you knew how to tell yourself.
Will I see you in heaven?
You were always my angel.
And I, your god.
I thought I could make my own heaven down here with you.
You crafted me a Hell, not one with fire and demons.
One with lies and heartbreak.
One of sleepless nights and sunken eyes.
One of empty stomachs and full minds.

Brought into this world, ****** and afraid,

My face blue, unable to cry,

I took my first breath in silence,

A cry buried in the depths of a heart not yet ready.
I woke up one day, six,
And found the bitter taste of my father's world,

Beer and cigarettes,

Ashen remnants of choices he never took back,

I swore I'd be nothing like him.

They taste gross,

Their sharp edges biting against the innocence I tried to hold.

I fell back asleep,

A sleep that carried me through the years.
I woke up at eleven,

Staring down at the chalk on the ground,

Scraped knees, tear-streaked cheeks,

A bruise on my soul, unseen but aching.

Falling asleep again,

Trying to outrun the weight of the world.
I woke up at fifteen,

Cigarette in one hand, beer in the other,
Guess my old man is still a part of me,

His ghosts clinging to my skin,

Yet I carry them like a burden I never chose.

I fell asleep again,

Hoping I could escape,

But the shadows lingered,

Uninvited, relentless.
I woke up at twenty four,
And the weight had shifted,

I put down the beer, swapped the cigarette for a vape,

A quiet rebellion, small but real.

I’ll fall asleep again,

But not as the same person.

I’ll wake up accomplished,

Surrounded by a loving community of friends and family,

Roots that stretch deeper than the chaos of the past.

I will not let my past become my future,

I will grow beyond what I was,

And the kid who couldn’t cry,

Will one day find their voice.

Pretty boy's gone
Since yesterday,
done with flirtin and acting gay
Bad Boy's back with the cigarette lighter and the twenty sack of **** to get a little higher
Ever since they went away, well
pretty boy's been full of dismay
heartbroken and lonesome he roams the town
looking for some ***** in which he'll drown,
broken and beaten
mean and old
on the street is where he sold
his pills and ****
his cid and lean
oh Pretty boy, sure got mean.
All the pretty girls tried to fix him
But he never could forget about the one that tricked him.
the one who stomped on his heart like a cigarette ****
extinguishing the warmth within him
like a punch to the gut
his eyes, once warm and inviting
are cold and dark
full of thunder and a spark of lightning

You fall asleep on the phone, I stay silent and still

I watch the clouds roll over the hill

Wonder how long before you let me in

To the place by the mountains, covered in snow

The frost on the windows, the cold biting your nose

You need your space, you crave their love

You sleep on the phone, and my hand aches for your touch
I hope you think I matter as much

As the boy in your dreams, soft and frail

Nights like this make me feel like I’m in hell

But hell would be warm, this love makes me cold

I hope we’ll be able to die when we’re old
Sitting in chairs by the fire, hearts full of desire

Grandkids aplenty, stories to tell

Not just a house on the hill, but a love that lasts

And when it’s time, we’ll be the past

A hole in the ground, where we’ll rest side by side

And the gravedigger will fill the void where we once lived our lives

I doled out my fruit to those with hunger in their eyes.

Presented on a silver platter,

I handed out napkins at the banquet.

They consumed the feast greedily,

Knives and forks at the ready for a time.
But soon, the knives and forks grew tiring,

And they resorted to hands,

Tearing into the flesh of ham and turkey,

Ripping grapes from their vines,

Drinking from the wine to their heart’s content.

Ribs picked clean, cans scattered across the floor,

Appetites sated.
Left alone at the banquet,

Food all gone,

I wondered if my offering had been enough,

Had they ever seen me,

Or just my fruit?
Then you arrived,

Carrying two plates, each with a sunny-side-up egg.

You placed one in front of me,

And one in front of yourself.

"Can you please pass the salt?"
I’m not used to this,

Not used to being treated with care.

But when I passed the salt,

My fingers didn’t tremble.

The simple act felt real,

A gift given, not taken.
For the first time,

I felt like I wasn’t alone at the table.

And in that quiet moment,

I realized,

This time, I don’t have to give everything away.

Some things,

Like kindness,

Can be shared without fear.

Your heart remains covered by vines and branches
The vines shroud you, and the thorns guard you
I will not hack and slash to reveal you
I will water and nurture, letting the small bulbs grow into vibrant flowers.
I will not pick them, I will let them live and thrive
If the season of frost comes again, and the flowers wilt
and the vines turn brown
I will be patient and caring, tending to the garden of our love
waiting for your heart to open once more

The unseen, unheard spirit that guides us

does not linger in the pews of a hollow church,
It doesn't commute through the veins of a five-lane highway.

It doesn't nest in the bones of suburbia

or whisper between the teeth of an office cubicle.
It waits where the earth still breathes.

In the gentle songs of a waking bird,

the hush of leaves surrendering to the soil,

the wind’s low hymn through cathedral redwoods,

the autumn air, cold and sharp.
These are the roots that connect us to our home,

woven into marrow, into memory.
But I tore myself from the earth,

uprooted from my lover, my tribe, my sanctuary in the sleepy woods,

chasing gold that turned to dust in my hands.
I just pray the ground will take me back.

It would be easy to die for you,
but you are teaching me what it is to live,
not just for you,
but for me.

just call me, just once more, let me hear your voice and the way your haughty breathing drifts over the speaker. Please let me listen to you, let me listen to you, let me listen. Please tell me all the answers ive been begging for tell me how it all makes sense. Tell me what happened, tell me what you did, why you did it, tell me how you could have done it.

A swirl of blood, rain and sunlight,

Cigarettes smoldering in the woods,

Guns echoing where dinosaurs once roamed,
Beer spilling from broken mugs,

Footprints tattooing the muddy earth,

Where trees stand like silent witnesses.
Calm lakes, a mirror for troubled youth,

Roaring rivers hum a distant tune,

A German shepherd's bark echoes through,

Messy handwriting scrawled on weathered pages,

Anguished cries caught in the wind,

Blue jeans torn, like faded memories,

Toothy grins hiding the truth behind soaked shirts.
Bruised legs, open wounds

Tattered shoes that never stop running.

Half-hearted confessions slip through the cracks,

In the language of partially completed machinery,

Where love, like rust, clings to forgotten gears.
What feels like me?

The ache between the silence and the storm.
Never knowing the truth to the cyclone within.
Running from the past on two broken feet.
I will refuse to cower any longer.

What do you do when you lover leaves you
some drink
some smoke
some cry
and some croak
well me, i just kept on livin
i slept
i prayed
i worked out
and got laid
or at least thats what id like to tell him
in truth i spent weeks in bed
couldnt get out of my own **** head
laying there smoking my ****
when it was really him that i need
living without him was living without direction
nothing would help, no fresh air or self medication
seemed like the end for me after a bottle of jack and a handful of pills
i wasn't staring down the barrel just for cheap thrills
after all this suffering agony and pain
it was still memories of him that plagued my brain
ive got no answers to soothe the pain
nothing will help
no ****, no *****, not even *******
i promised him so much but from the blade i couldnt refrain

When I was young, home was a place
Now, Home is a heart
Everything was simpler,
When I was young,
I used to drink hot cocoa for the warmth,
Now its the whisky that burns my throat,
When I was young my idea of fun was climbing,
Now, it's falling,
When I was young, I thought love and happiness were the same,
I know now that they aren't,
When I was young, I wanted things that were bad for me,
Now I need them.

The scars upon my flesh grow dull and pale,

A reminder, though faded, of a lesson learned or a fight endured.

The wounds within my soul remain raw, vivid, and tender.

If they could be seen, they would weep and bleed,

A stark contrast to the markings that decorate my skin.

A lover, a friend, a stranger, a shrink,
No matter their attempts to heal, I react

Like a cornered animal, resisting any aid.

Can I, like a wolf trapped by a bear trap,

Chew through my own memories to escape the pain,

Or will they remain, festering and new,

A constant reminder of the wounds that still bind me?