sages and brethren
gather, and share
and slowly souls
are bared
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles

moments blend
in current trends
opinions wide
and reflections deep
the concepts
and irregularities
once murky
now clear

they prioritize
and familiarize
that staunch resolution
of generation net
will remunerate
and illuminate
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
nothing tainted
or bitter
left for taste

cause its they
who’ll plant the seeds
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them

you're not going to read this, and why would you?*

it would be either
naive
or
stupid
of me to expect even so much as a text;
as if our separation implies the ******* of a proverbial
Berlin Wall* between us,
where less than a week ago we were the same *country,
our landscapes of rolling hills,
city skylines,
and forests
so overgrown
that only
slices
of sunlight
could parse the ever-greened canopy,
phasing into one another seamlessly.

We may have been our own provinces,
but aside from small street signs declaring
Welcome to Jen
and
Welcome to Kyran...
aside from separate cognitive centers of self-government
between
your shock-blue eyes and fleek eyebrows,
between
my navy-blue irises and grey,
sunken sockets,
we were a willing confederation of persons,
impulses,
                dreams,
                             ambitions,
                                              anxieties,
                                                              lo­ves,
                                                                ­        and betrayals---

In our past, and provisional separations,
it was your betrayal that pushed us both
into the doldrums of love-lost confusions
and self-hatred;
not that there would be much value
in assigning a blame
with hurt still attached,
because the point,
it seems to me,
was that we somehow made it through everything together.

There wasn't a personal adversity we didn't learn to conquer
---until I began to fade away from you--
lanky, thin, often broke, and depressed,
I retreated.

I cocooned myself in studies of the past and the present;
for some reason, despite my overwhelming love for you,
despite the unspoken commitment I had made
to you
in my head
so long after your second infidelity
when I realized I was finally over it
and that I loved you more than I'd ever loved anyone before
--and in ways I never could have foreseen--

I backed-off,
I fell back,
I disengaged,

and

I essentially abandoned you.

After your impulsive infidelities,
when you admitted you hadn't been
nor were you in your
"right mind,"
you promised you'd get better.

You saw councilors, therapists, psychiatrists,
and psychologists... and you did.

You really did get better.

You overcame all that had been pulling you so low and so far into the darker vicissitudes of irrationality.

And yet, when it came to my own faults,
inadequacies, and disengagement,
I lacked your courage.

I didn't even try to overcome them.
In my self-imposed screen-gazed solitude,
I often thought of how much I loved you;
of how I hoped you might just wait out my confused disengagement
like I forgave you for your betrayals which had,
in their times,
hollowed me out emotionally for months on end.

The thing is, you wouldn't have blamed me if I'd left you then.
You would have understood, and let me go,
regardless of the heavy pain in your solar plexus
and the hollow feeling in your heart.

Though it never came to that,
I now have the chance to do for you what you'd have done for me.

I don't blame you for leaving.

I understand,
and regardless of this heavy pain in my solar plexus
and the perceptive hollowing of my heart,
I will watch you as you go,
        I will wave,
I will live with the weight of regret and memory,
and remember what you wrote in a poem once
when we parted ways after your first infidelity.

Sitting in the university library, reading on Moses,
what went thru your head was

"closure feels more like i can go on without you, i’m glad i met you, however an emptiness drenched in self-regret will always remain."

He sat down at his desk
With his face buried deep into it
His sweatshirt road his broadened shoulders
Something about this guy interested me
He was new, fresh slate at a new school

We exchanged hellos
We exchanged names
I threw out an invite to chill
And he politely and happily accepted

There was something odd about him
In a good way
Offbeat
Offbeat boy
I gave him a nickname because his real name was to plain for him

I introduced him to my circle and they didn’t like him at first
But over time they became as thick as thieve
We all were
New bonds were made
Bridges built and doors opened

The things he would say
So random
So off base
So hilariously out of place
I loved it
I always looked forward to what he was going to say next

He was a true friend
There was no lying, no evil in him
He was pure, a pure person

He loved nature
His love was Mother Earth
Shedding at tear at environmental ignorance

He was socially awkward
He couldn’t talk to girls, or anyone that wasn’t one of us
He would get into fight we would have to talk him out of
The confusion he gave to the teachers and frustration he gave to the entire student body
He didn’t know any better

Writing a funny speech about what he would do if he was voted for class president
Then having it being taken as a threat against the school thus getting him suspended and having the police search his house for weapons

The complete disbelief of his guidance councilors
And the flabbergasted administrators were all gut busting comedies to us

As we approached graduation news of him going into the navy came about

And we were all in disbelief
But it was true
A boy who couldn’t life a five pound dumbbell was going to serve our country

Good for him

Even now I can recall our adventures up to that point
Staying out late and wandering the streets in the middle of a cold winter night
Cat calling at the mall, trying to pick up girls
Breaking things
Invading private properties
Avoiding police entanglements
Detentions
Suspensions
So many laughs
So many memories

When he left it was as if the once bright aluminous room we all shared was a little bit dimmer
But we were full of pride
We knew he would shine on else where

From Michigan to Texas to California for boot camp and training he went
Our friend went on a journey, his own journey

One year later, we all await his return

He is back, oh the change is overwhelming
He shines brighter, he’s witty
He’s mature, bold and confident

He’s become a man, he found himself

He has claimed his long sought after love

The one who has been walking a difficult path and strides in beauty

He made passionate love to her last night
He woke up from her house and came to mine at 5 AM

I awoke to find him sipping coffee in my kitchen; he had a smile in his heart that was bigger than the stupid grin on my face
I sat and talked to him, chugged my coffee and got dressed

No we were going on another adventure, two weeks
Two weeks with him was all I have
Then he’s being deployed for two years
He speaks of oncoming war with Syria and North Korea
His views have changed
He believes in war
My, my I’m astonished
This is my friend?
The awkward, soft spoken dude in my history class?
Now I wait to see what happens next
With one of my dearest friend, Chives

I come from the large Texas city Houston. Where prices are decent, and crime is high, that includes death. Spring Break of 2016, I saw on Instagram, people I half *** knew were posting pictures of you, saying you had gone missing. I was baffled. I hardly knew you, but I still did parcally know you from sharing the same first period class. I knew you by your first name, but couldn't tell you I could remember your last. Days passed, your story stumbled onto the news. The same picture being displayed across television screens across the city, attempting to find your kidnapper. Your father had been shot and burned. Reporters said it was possible that you witnessed this. I hope you didn't witness your father's demise, I really do. I was getting my hair done at a salon when my father told me police had found your corpse. They first announced she was shot, then sexually assaulted. My heart dropped, this was the youngest tragedy I had witnessed before, but, again, I barley knew you. I knew when I came back to school after the week long break that the atmosphere would be somber. First period, algebra. That was the only class you and I shared. Our teacher talked about you, with such kind words, choking up, and in tears. The principal and councilors visited, making sure no one was shaken too bad by her passing. I looked from across the room where you used to sit, on the complete opposite side of the room, at your now hallow desk. Funny, how before the break, our teacher spoke of being safe because she knew a teacher friend of hers who lost two students of his, and how devastated he was over it, knowing they'd never come back or step foot in his class room. It's the same for my highschool algebra teacher. One of the last days we had with her before finals, she asked us to write letters to Adriana's mother, that she'd give them to her, she asked in tears once more. I wrote her mother, saying how no one deserves this kind of loss. How her daughter was a good kid. I went off of what her best friend told me in drawing class as a base to Adriana's personality. She seemed bright, and bubbly, and friendly, and joy, and laughter. But alas, I never knew her, and I will never get to know you, because you have been taken, sooner than expected.

Please take time to read this <3

Few people know that I have come close to ending my own life, at least 4 times. At the time that is what I wanted, to die. Mostly because I thought it would take Away the pain and suffering I felt. I never fit in, kids at school would find any reason to make fun of me. When I was eight years old my sister and I were sent to a foster home. I was told on many occasions that my father wanted nothing to do with me. So I became depressed and lived by a label known as emo. One night I felt extremely depressed and I took a razor blade to my wrist. I watched as the blood ran out of the wound I had made and at that moment I realized I was addicted. Not only to cuting but to the feeling I got when I saw my blood. I knew I had a problem, I would cut every night just so I could feel something I could control and that I knew was real. My friends in middle school saw the cuts and tried to get me help but it only made it worse. I was put into therapy but that doesn't help unless you talk, in which I didn't. I didn't feel safe. The foster home my sister and I were living in was not a very good one. The guy was a creep. So we were forced out of that home and got adopted by my uncle. We tried many councilors and therapists but nothing seemed to help.
I eventually got an 18 year old boyfriend and I was only 15. He got me drunk one night and took advantage of me. He stole my innocence, and gave me something else in return. A baby. But that baby died. Know matter how much it hurts I know that baby is better off with out me. I was so young.
To this day, I still think about hurting myself but I am proud. I have gone a little over 4 months with out self harm, and with every day I grow stronger and stronger. So to those who took the time to read this, thank you. And if you are going through the same struggles, find a clear path and stay on it. Doesn't matter if you're an alcoholic, or a druggy, or even a *** addict. The only way to get better is through steps. Start with a week and slowly move up. I believe in you. Every single one.

“I’ve been sober for two months now,”
I was proud of these words when I sent them your way
You seemed proud of me too.

Two months battling the Beast
Inside of me
Always craving, itching, howling
To be let out of it’s cage.

I resisted.
I defied the Beast for the people I love,
And for the people who cherish me.

“One day at a time,”
The councilors tell me,
And I learned, slowly, how to treat myself well.  

We spoke on the phone last night,
After I had finally gotten my med dose right.
“I’m single now; we broke up…”

The way you said it tugged at my heart
As if I was going to be your fresh start.
And I fell, knowing you would catch me.  

“I’m getting drunk now.”
Were the last words you said to
Me. The recovering addict.
As if my words seemed feasible
You cashed them in for something better.

If words had arms attached to them,
Yours would punch a grenade in my gut.

Since the head of the uniqueness of the lack of self-sustaining treatment of the Jewish Jubilee, scandal, Dr. Valais, and replied to me, wrote on the subject of his own house, when he was in trouble and in that light of his philosophy is cut off from the perspective of Transparency's castle of the modern northwest, Kid 'will bring a sword to the sword by the taste of the vegetation of the city with new colors of saints, often in laughter, men who are married to women, animals, animals, and as possible for connection and honey. Make a screen (source) specialist commanders, girls and promotions are cool. Jones, through trees that advise the health problems of the skin. Let man take this kind of reminder and take over the Middle Sea. Old councilors, or flowers, and even for pregnant pregnant women. Add the screen (source) great specialists, promotions, girls, snow and body. The ionic, and the fruit with the skin, healthy physical health must have a change. Science can. 1 kilo is error. The company will work. I began to beat the top of the runners. A large part of the Cabinet to show the power of energy will remain in all the work of the Milton militants, the local city center of the study? Or are they not calculated or cause. The women are rejected. Music, and the device. to the man who is quiet, and of the common players in his customers. 1. If you come to the police board to tell us in faulty. After years of urban music, Henry, John L. Drinks Clubs, green, websites. 2, 26, brother, Philip David Harold, Slave Institute of South Africa to get training. Google has been sent to the police station. The front of the school is Mexico on the Philippines. black and blue symbols indicating the urge to run. Slow. This is the fifth day of this trip. A man of many years, division, Tully 2 Philip in the Netherlands. Google camp of two camps with trumpets. He is a two-party contract. This may, however, be the first. || || India, especially for the damaged women and hairs they have given to the bees. Add the screen (source): today the girls and the carton card of the girl. For the healthy skin of the fruit of the Ion-Ion things are things. Let man take this kind of reminder and take over the Middle Sea. Old pagans eat, even giving children and women have become normal. Add the screen (source): today the girls and the carton card of the girl. For the healthy skin of the fruit of the Ion-Ion things are things. Science can. 1 kilo is error. The company will work. Battle in the ground for free services; Great violence does not work. I began to beat the top of the runners. A large part of the Cabinet to show the power of energy will remain in all the work of the Milton militants, the local city center of the study? Show clothes and weapons: there is no gas. The women are rejected. Music, and the device. The answer is simple, and the whole world. Then the sullen and the same gate 1. It takes office and smoker. Years later playing the Gypsy Girls, Henry, John L. Dances football, green, websites. 2, 26, brother, Philip David Harold sent to the Slave Institute of South Africa to get a training. Google has been sent to the police station. The front of the school is Mexico in the Philippines. The black, blue and the signal signals show effect. Herod's years in the sun. **

Silent prayers are being recited all thru my consciousness
Of desperation and a moment of escalating into a rare flare of clarity
My mind screaming to go escape the reality of my current toils of Life and saddened realization that am still stuck in square one...still waging war thru my tumultuous addiction I just want true joy peace and prosperity a want a different Life for myself but I always self-sabotage my sobriety walk with an endless urge to go get high one more time just one last time I get some sober time under my belt and again feel inadequate to deal with Life triggers, problems, clutter and stressors beat me back to using once again. I try to talk to my peers to God to councilors to doctors to my own head and mind to my addiction begging and pleading I want to be free but I love getting high a little more than sobriety but I want to understand why this is...I recall that I use substances to temporarily relieve my schizophrenia and ADHD. To get a frozen piece of time to reconnect with my inner soul but at the same time feeding this demons that keep me trapped inside a mental prism that the only way out is wanting to live a life of no use of any mind altering substances. Am stuck between wanting a better healthier more enjoyable Life without pushing any efforts into changing knowing that ultimately lead me back to using dope to do something am comfortable and feel at a pleasant with utilizing my own body to conduct a forced neurological and psychological change...so I can once again relive and reminiscence on that subtle wave of calmness and comfort I adore so much. Harsh reality sets in I run out of substances to indulge in and slowly but surely my brain synapses go back to normality and re-stabilize. I keep wanting this revolutionary change of mind but am willingly putting no work towards getting better...I am here pondering is it because my own drug use has become hardened enveloped in a complex mechanism that tactically constructs avenues to facilitate it's initial impulse to go and do what makes my mind and body feel at ease with a touch of serenity and well being. Nevertheless, when the drugs are completely expelled from my system I pay the toll for pushing my biological neural and nervous system to it's peak functionality. The biggest obstacle in my path to sobriety is mundane ordinary routines of every day living life without no sense of gratification thru drugs themselves. Am truly trying to reach that place where I feel as if this drugs I involve myself to use leave me disgusted at myself for doing that to myself when its all a grand illusive temporal alleviation of stress problems and feelings and emotions being blocked off and masked to a degree of non-existent competence. Am left in the end with a constant inner symptom of slightly elevated compulsive feeling of wanting to repeat the experience again and again and again. This becomes the battle and little by little becomes a rampaging addiction depending on the person's impulsivity level and puts the person in a state of uncomfortable decision making when in reality the drugs don't solve anything thru them the problems become temporarily "out of sight out of mind" but when sobriety sets back in and every neuronal and hormonal changes due to the use become expelled and fully removed from the user's system the user goes thru a period of acute withdrawals and followed by other minimal symptoms like irritability, depressed mood, dysphoria and neuro-chemical imbalances. All I am going to focus from now on is how to slow down my use to the point ill be easy for me to leave it alone all at once. I want to believe I can find true joy peace contentment and happiness thru being drug free but every time I think of it I give myself a certain doubt that in time it becomes malignant and grows to be another reservation waiting to be subconsciously manifested. Sooner or later my subconscious becomes too hard to ignore and I play the game of "insanity" again and go do what I know... Which is get intoxicated. I will sooner or later learn how to deal with my Life's trials and tribulations in a different way and learn that thru God's grace & power I can be clean and arrest this monster once and for all.

There's the thrift shop and
that's the pop the weasel shop,

this is the high street
a bit down on its luck
and these are the councilors
who don't give a ****.

(Grammarly suggests I put a question mark after ****,
so I did, ****, off Grammarly)

I am wondering when
they'll start building again
or have we run out of bricks?


The economy appears to have had
a hysterectomy and
someone will **** me for this.

Magnolia , honeysuckle and Cherokee roses-
hide the aroma of gun powder & mace ...
Yet , wisteria tinged with the odor of burning-
structures leaves an undeniable taste ..
The cheers for her professional sports teams housed-
in grandiose stadiums drowns out gunfire -
in poverty ravaged neighborhoods ...
Airliners bound for Atlanta sail high above -
the call for justice , equality & mercy                                                  
At the behest of the Almighty a lonely cropper took his last , hard breath beside an Ellijay apple tree , a laborer in Valdosta , a mechanic -in Albany
Their physicality cracked from years -                                                    
of pain and toil neath the unforgiving Georgia-
sun , councilors , legislatures & sheriffs woefully resist modernity in the midst of public desperation ..
Deaf ears to small town minority halls of worship begging tolerance , -
brotherhood & civility
Behind her facade of beauty , pecan orchards & peach trees-
lies the ****** robe of humanity
Unsung heroes vying for shared liberty....

Finance holds the town back
They've closed down the Milan Bar
and Currys moved out
Sing to the skeleton of a town center
carrying the deluged plough unto my ears
the promises of the councilors, prowl
towards helplessness