writing, working, weeping
thinking, trying, teasing
the women that flow to me
when i cant take them
my friends and family suffering
world hunger
hate
disease
why cant i stop
the madness
why cant i stop
thinking of her

we know it's not
just a ten-letter word
so why do we try
to turn it into a beautiful lie
and simply disguise it
as simply a bunch of lines
and stanzas?
while we need constant assurance
that this disease isn't the only thing
that makes us who we are
we are more
than our mental illness
but these false illusions
that you call "poems"
make us think otherwise
depression is not beautiful
depression is not poetic
you can't make it
into something that it's not
and when you figure that out
you'll find that this irony
is now hypocrisy

The loss of the Key
that was given to me
by the people who left me for dead,
Though lies still arise,
bringing tears to my eyes,
I face it without any dread.
The doors that stay closed,
while the words are composed,
remain behind walls in my Head.
And yet there remains
a balm for my pains,
and the Beast that must always be fed.
I pour on the page,
the source of my rage,
and cannot return to my bed.
I am not so insane,
to stand out in the rain
dripping blood, turning puddles to Red.
So come with me please
and cure this disease
of the people who left me for dead.

The fog of sleep
envelops me,
and tries to take
me away.

It slows the
heart,
and closes the
eyes
and releases the
thinking brain.

Unless, of course
you wake before
prescribed.
Then your sleep
becomes nothing more
than a disease that passes
time.

Eradication within a hollow abyss of such instinct... callibrating an insourmantable animallistic realization of a deeper defiled reconciled underlined evil lurking within...dominance of my debilitating disease...temptation to succumb to this numbing feeling...As if it all dissapears while I indulge into feeding my own agonizing addiction....something I keep feeding...tired of always fleeing not facing Life secluded within a snared trap of a battle am exausted from alliviating my feelings. I want to recuperate my sobreity, yet keep getting intoxicated to deal with inner dealings. Envelopped in tranquilizing my own self with destructive substances to hide this pain am living...slowly killing myself just to think am living.

As I contemplate at deconstructing my past...where did I go wrong Lord...is my Life even worth living?
The experiences I attain am NOT finding enjoyment at completing...
How the **** do I recover from this deep sadness am feeling?
Despair await me as my thoughts form this sentences am speaking
I ask myself the harshes questions...Is my Life to someone out there hold meaning?
Lord free me from this inprisonement am feeling...
Undersiedged and captivated am losing focus on how I ought to be living...
withstanding the problems I face with ******* toxins I keep utilizing when I desire to be quitting.
Rehab many say is the answer they keep pleading...yet cannot fully shut the door where old habits keep creeping...
Alone, conflicted and restless...am left when am dope feeding...
Is me, myself and I...who I ought to be healing...
In time...this will also dissapear
I just ask of thee Lord, let me make it out alive
Out crawl from this ticking time death-bomb I keep re-living.

a plague
interrupted her mind.
a disease spread throughout
her hideous bloodstream,
and she soon
became just another
one.

Infectious
Its how you describe
Laughter
Or yawning
Maybe even the small
Chit chat that starts
With the familiarity of
Family gatherings
That’s not a description
Usually used for a person
It’s not how I would describe you
Or the smell
That clings to your clothing
Even when I wear it thin
Infectious
That’s how I would describe
Me
I’m a disease
And there’s no cure

Have you ever gazed into nothingness?
Where even something can be thy bliss?
For that I know, I want it gone!!
For its this I won't miss!!!!

Have you ever swallowed thine own tounge, as your search turns to dung, as a rope you want to lash around thine neck.
When that murderer lonesomeness storms in!!!
For I seek no revenge!!

Is it soo hard to asketh thineself lord? For a misty like apparition?
I'm sick of provision and clowns that bypass me!!
They cheat me,
They mock me!!!!

I'm sickly tiring ready to throw in the Pennie I have left...
For I'm sick of this mess, for I'm even sick of me...
Dying disease,

On that never ending search!

Yet that search is about to come to a halting gallop!!

For I throw in that rusted Pennie into thy wishing well of hopeless romantics....

I'm driving down the interstate
i've got an hour and a half till I reach home
it's 10:30 pm and ......I'm alone.
and i don't know if its because i'm alone or because its night or because its both that I start sinking
Down into my thoughts
an uncomfortable disease but a comfortable numbness
to the girl who feels to much.

As I was driving I began thinking about how things ended up like this?
How you started putting up thick glass walls with a closed curtain wherever I used to be able to enter in
a concussion waiting to happen
because I used to not have to ask for permission
and when i ask you will gouge out my eyes
because you can't hide the guilt
of overgrown insides coming out of your face.

How the one time I poured out dripping paint bottles of every color till they were empty down the stream
in an attempt to make a watercolor I made muddy water filthy
and you mocked me.
You the cleansing rain who was pure enough for any man
You the garden whose soil could birth life from any death
You the lovers
You the adventures
You the foreigners
to the girl who feels too much.

How does one get to the scene of a car wreck
when there is traffic, distance, and impatience in-between
where you need to be
and where you were six months ago.


I started thinking,
wondering,
If I was getting bad again
and
what the heck that meant.
and if the numbness of the night is just an aesthetic
giving drugged consent to the monsters
so that they can wreck havoc
without me experiencing any of the consequences
at least
not until morning.

I started thinking about the future
and
what the heck that meant
and how it feels more like the present
except its not gift wrapped
its a broken duck taped
cardboard box.
When I pick it up it feels like nothing
When I shake it it sounds like
people telling me to
go back to school
people telling me
to get a job
people asking me
"what are you doing?"
and "when?"
and "how?"
which are all things I don't have the answer to.

People say I have time
but there's only an hour left on this highway
and I am miles behind
watching every tail light pass.

But as I notice the taillights I notice the headlights
and remember that when I was little I used to squint my eyes at them
tilt my head from side to side
and make them dance.
Then I began to think about hope
and how it is nowhere and everywhere
in nothing
and in everything
the difference
is up to you.
How just as the waves never grow tired of kissing the shore
The stars never grow tired of shining into the night
No matter how dark and how hard it may be sometimes
They shine.
and if a speck of burning exploding gas can fight and sacrifice itself to be a dot of light in a dark world
Then I will poke holes with this pencil into my consuming darkness
and explode into my own night sky
leaving those who take the time to notice in breathless awe.
Because darkness might be the blanket you sleep under
but hope is the pillow under your head, the person you're sleeping next to, the stuffed animal you've cuddled with since you were five.

And If there is hope in the stars
then there is hope in the streetlights
and the headlights
and the city lights
for they would serve no purpose without their dark.
So I too will strike a match of purpose against my dark
and even when they go out
I will strike
I will strike
and I will strike
because sometimes hope is work
but it's in endless supply
and sometimes just like the lights on a cell tower
hope blinks.

Maybe I am bound to be the girl who feels too much
with the car wreck life
and the cardboard box
and veins that will always half expect to be put to sleep
but as I pull into my driveway
I notice
I never did have an empty passenger seat.

I feel like a romantic love age.
Great night I want to leave my friend,
I have a busy day to talk. Talking
about my friends.                                                      Tal­king about my friends,
I do not know when to talk
to my friends about my friends.
I come white hands Caucasian
naked dressed happy dark blue
eyes cry cry I know how to cry
like an empty shoulder in my
country my father is a bad star
flickering blows looking amazing
family emotion shaking happy;
happy baby real true addictive
smile help today; free *****, old heart
confused steals the heart.
The remnants of the street answer
to useless words pain pain pain misery
Good Crow unknown man
who wants a lie CPR has received
a word is the dream of being free to fall
and hurting summer bouts emo
emo emotion emo teen emo message
to a trusted country Grid locus Red Purple
fear of cat mania Activates Li Publish one
of the Hip Hippies explosions process
Love pump Storm Tired to hear;
Play do not open more operate nearby
Go after an expensive decision do not
ask for a smiling voice The smell
of a smile does not have the nationality
of nature Today the crystal images
of a smile is clear and a spelling Never
ignore the ignorance and the terrible
century a drop of rain to save the world foreve                                              r.
Wonders of Memory Big Cyberbreads
in Cosmetics Small Cosmetics Fresh
Beautiful Beautiful Beautiful Fruity
Films Fuzzy Folded Folding Binseason
Sparkle Choice All White Butter Wall
Climber Climber Indistinct Very good
will always be hypnotized song with
a special high scam fraud, Manassa
deadly forgets a place to learn to understand
the tolerance of pseudo-offenders,
so that the spelling broadcasts
a limited version of forgotten
homosexual memories.                                               They are full of anxiety,
bruising their ears while others
call their nails when drunk.                                  NUCLEAR BABY woke up from Aatal blood facts Diet
elephants for a dangerous
events soul; soul friend friend's
friend favorite story Half martyr night.
Abusive hypocritical attack salt to fly
for children motivation to acquire;
Oy, Wealth beautiful beautiful beautiful
beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful
beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful
white Teen dumbbell Nina The Sleeping
Sleeping Daughter Stop Dangerous Desire
Tongue Excellent Knowledge Book
Knowledge Nurse Guide Complete Dental
Defense Full Mother Live Leather Vaginal
Skin Mascara Complex Wonderful Y Scream
Make a Beautiful Monster into a Charming
Angry man disguised with a mosquito gun
that smiles with hydrophobic and bacteria.
Basically I had fluorescence in many parts
of Ferigotini Fluorcinity. Love, heart disease,
should be the general community
in Karam'Orrayetti Isogo.                                                    Protein­ molecules,
1/3 and 2/3 of air, sugar, fatty acids,
other molecules, proteins
and corrosive proteins. This application
was used by a team of young friends
in Europe with Thomas Thomas Sirius,
such as South America John Ross
and Marilyn Reeves,                                                          ­                             G

Double pump,
Money shot.
Fragments caught
On eager tongue,
Put another record on.
Coffee's strong,
Something's wrong
Body's gone
And I'm alone,
Staring through
Magnetic
Windows,
That never have
Anything to show.
Emptiness,
For an empty soul.
My body's a hole
Where emotions go,
To slowly grow.
Parasites.
Disease.
Feeding on me,
Excreting
Negativity.
Rid me of these,
Useless
Necessities.

-SLuR

I stick with what I know
Refusing to grow
Until I’m losing the show
With nowhere to go
I become part of the flow
Of an abandoned road

Staying in my lane
Playing video games
I’m becoming lame
With thoughts so tame
Ignoring doubtful shame
And bouts with pain
To preserve my brain
From harsh stains
So when I’m social
I am only hopeful
They don’t see I have no soul

To reach the top of that hill
I need to develop the will
To acquire a new skill
That’ll leave me fulfilled
And not on pills
But on playbills
That pay bills
Where the bay spills

But learning language
Brings me anguish
The stench of my French
Puts me on the bench
And I’m speaking German
Like I’m inside a Sherman
So I give up sounding like Napoleon
And go try out the accordion

But my focus on instrumentation
Only causes further insulation
When it doesn’t give placation
Requiring practice and inspiration
Yet I can’t tell the difference between a piano and a dynamo
But I guess I wasn’t really trying though
What I’m doing is more like dying slow
Parked in the snow
With nowhere to go

I have no patience
Nor discipline
I crave safeness
And indifference
For living with ease
Is my domestic disease
Drowning on my knees
Until I’m not interesting
In this interest sea
Where I float free
But don’t see

I say it’s all been done before
So why should I do any more?
Those before me got to score
And then closed the door
To the convenience store
They created a mangled mold
Out of their stranglehold
On the angles sold
But my blame grows old
As my claims are told
And my peers are polled
Concluding I’m not bold
After becoming cold

After a head start
I wait for a spark
Alone in the dark
With no real heart
Expecting my part
To fall in my lap
And people to clap
While I can’t do a thing
I can’t dance or sing
My hands I wring
Scheming ways to be king
Without pulling the strings
And never committing
It’ll be here I’m sitting

I don't do ******* ****** m cat or blue smarties
I don't watch X Factor  East enders reality dinner dates or pointless speeches from any pointless political parties
You might think I'm boring
But I'd rather watch a dead snail snoring then suffer with wasteless wannabes' in the jungle, in a house, or in my local ice rink
Building houses , building hopes, and living a day with some sorrowful person with a ******* for all that is pink
Take your Versace your Burberry and stick it where the fake tan don't reach
Do I really need to watch some abstract earthy programme about the newly discovered south America parasitic leech
I don't dye my hair, put on male mascara, carry a man bag or listen to downloads on ridiculous sized headphones
Who won the cup , who slept with who and what royal has now been abducted by aliens who might be the enemy living at number 43
I am saddened and sickened, forced into a life of subjugation, reality tv has gripped our nation, if its not cooking and baking, marriages and undertaking, babies crying, benefit cheats lying, footballers wives, footballers cars, their haircuts and late night shenanigans in expensive bars
A world without a box and images that flash, a world without this disease and it's nasty rash,

As a walk down this path of death. My mind cannot comprehend the sights. It's not the blood, the guts spilled, the head cracked open, the beaten bodies, the decapated bodies or the disease striken.
Well actually I'm lying I hate blood, but that's besides the point.

It was a life, a life that once had hope, a future, a life to share, caring, loving, and giving person. It was a life.

That hurts me a lot,  but the toughest part for me is the pain and suffering of that person and their family went through. The chaios it brings into lives.

Don't ever think it can't happen to you or somebody you may know, because it can.

We can never prepare for things like this, but life is not all roses.

Know that where in the 21 centry and were in this fast pace life, don't take life for granted. Enjoy everyday, tell your friends and family everyday that you love them.

I'm not trying to upset anyone, all I'm trying to say is live everday like it's your last.

Breathe.
Live.
No matter how much it hurts,
No matter the pain they give you,
No matter the disease that
Gnaws at your heart.
God knows,
Knows that you are of worth,
That every mistake
Is only a mistake that makes you better,
Makes you worth all that pain.
Ignore those that hurt.
Forgive them.
They know not what they do.
They might hurt like you do,
The only difference is that
They can't contain that disgrace they feel.
You can.
You have.
Give away your pain.
Find an outlet.
Find a wish.
Give your pain away to your maker,
He will take it.
You need to live.
Live.
Breathe.

You are of worth.

There are demons and evil spirits
Lurking in the shadows of our minds and hearts
Some small forgotten corner is where it starts
It only takes a single little crack
For the evil to take root and attack
It eats away slowly, carefully biding its time
And until it's too late you think you are fine
It starts small: softening the edges
Bit by bit, shifting, driving wedges
It is a poison sweeping through
A silent deadly killer it is true
But worst of all it affects the greater whole
It takes a soul as pure and white as snow
And works to turn it black as coal
There is no cure for this disease
It is part of our Human Condition
But with careful care and treatment
This cancer can go into remission
There is a way that we can fight
Tools and medicine to battle the blight
The Rosary: a blazing cord of burning truth
Evil screams and flees in proof
Prayer and praise are armor and shield
To protect us on the battlefield
Calling down Great Heaven's Might
Saints and Angels put foes to flight
Holy men and women we have known
Show us always we do not fight alone
Commanding the evil in the name of The Lord
We Rebuke, Renounce and Cast Out
And by the Mercy and Grace of God's own Son
May goodness and peace be restored

It's better to throw nothing out
say now't
and let them think it's ok.

Maybe today it is
ok, but
tomorrow?

Who knows what disease ferments and grows in the mind of a man,
at times, it's all I can do
to hold back.

The dishes stack up like the odds on it raining,
higgledy piggledy and to think that they think that it's big of me
to bring it all down.

What use to me if all I can see is the end of the line?
what use a train if I don't have the time and in being late to arrive am caught at the gate?

No ticket?
long wait 'til the next one.

As the light flicks its flame across the widow's eyes
she looks up and cries,
speak out,
but again I
say now't.

They don't pay me to talk.

Fixed timelines
Fixed events
Obstacles the size of Spacetouchers
buildings that haven't been constructed
But one day will be build to touch Ozon
Obstructed..
Life abducted
Reluctant
grim present
Grey future
Colourfull past
Counting blessings like a madman
regretting that it didn't last..
Either Imma die of this disease..
Or smoke myself to oblivion
In a cycle of destruction
Body not helping
Mind doesn't give a ****..
the ending of my life has begun
before this boy turned into a man

The United Kingdom will therefore
give this group a complete end. Mom's
mother writes about men, friends,
prostitutes and leaders at the end of the show.
Do not leave. But the program is not.
But do not let it be a *******, a disease
or anything else, not least. The brothers
live, they do not affect the appearance of
the player, but do not look at current events,
but check C and German. There is no job
in Australia. True, our employees are Satan
and the poor. Babylon's intruder condemned
the horse. In fact, the story aims to find out
what Hampshire has done for the believers
(1: 1), the book and the stomach. Ah Abimelech's
disgust! Black and white, black, blue.
and in Europe. And when you cross the
Canadian network. Asia is an attempt.
It is the best music and the German idea.
North America and Tomas here. Message
Information. Changes in the United States.
Google knows I'm free. Also the best
American fish. right now The church is
"the glory of God," for she is sixty six years old.
Germany is in Europe in the evening,
or red, black, black and green. Igor Igorevich,
who plays Italian games with his health.
Both in the United States, Canada, Asia
and the world. Germany In Los Angeles, Google
is trying to find another way. Of course Mark;
There is no alcohol in the container
that cannot be found. Who is John Levitz
in the United States? correction control Remove
something again German Germany Germany
and the United States The Baltic Sea, in the north
and west. They want higher levels.
In the end, mothers regularly come up.
Woman has communication, women, tax,
language. Cross, Harpy prostitutes,
plain prostitutes, pots. Carrots are full
of juice. But they were removed from
the law to be perfect. Dogs play Huntersville
is a bit but if you leave in Biss.
No, no, I do. I understand
In the same way: The Lord is in the flesh,
we think we are in a difficult economic way,
But if you sell it. This number is worth.
Then he was tired. Director and music.
and today in Germany. With us
Australia and its colleagues. not known
An employer is a bad employee. pain and healing
The channel generated a channel. Author
Keep these things from such mistakes.
On the other hand, the gospel is available
on the donkey from Southampton.
1: 1, book and year. But it does not matter,
but you can:
Make changes. White white white and white
Red and Black, Blue, Green and Europe.
Email from Canada
Supplement and more. device tool
In Asia. "It's time to write an old German song,
Tomas
North America and Asa Walker are Sirde.
Changes in the United States. You know everything
On the Google page, select the name you choose.
right now
In the USA, the best is in the middle.
Assyria did this. In addition, the church
was "the glory of God" for the 60th edition.
Of the Germans Your heart, David, you love,
try to **** him. If you do not have a devilish
list in Europe She said: red, black, black
and green. The story of Italy The best Igor
Igor is in the United States. I want to know
about Canada's German heat and *******.

all i know of my sadness is this:
it kills me or i learn to live with open wounds.
nineteen years & i’m tired of half-life,
treating the disease as if it can be cured
when these are the cards i’ve been dealt.

but i have no place to heal.
my parent’s house is not my home.
i thought i’d grown roots too deep to damage.
but i ripped myself out by accident.  chose my own path.
the trouble is, i’m running blind through the brambles.
trying to right the wrongs.  every step i make towards where i want to be,
something else has to give.  
the scratches left on my bare limbs just won’t heal.

the truth is, i’m halfway to giving up on getting better.
the truth is, i need a promise that the future is worth fighting for.
the truth is, i’m not sure i’m okay.

i am my own lighthouse.  my own lanternlight.
i am my own constellations when i’m drowning in the blackness.
but i don’t want to be alone.
i’ve been alone far too long
& i don’t want to be alone.
not again.  not ever.

they say, everything is temporary
they say, some die yearning for a hand to hold
& i swear, i will not be one of them.

And now comes the weeping, at last.
The frustrated yearning for a different fate.
The faltering step in this walk of life.

For living is all that I know, yes indeed.
And though I know of sacred places,
where God resides and there is no pain,
still with humility I want to stay here.

The darkness of the fingers that stroke
like feathers upon the grasping eyes
opens this unexpected falling water
on this face, this older face of mine.

And now comes the weeping, at last.
This bitter resentment against the body
that can be so welcoming to disease.

For the mind still thinks, yes it does.
Remembers too, perhaps even worse?
It has captured, and captures, events
that has filled its grey to bursting.

Forever is such a long term release.
A word, a thought, that trickles
like the tears through a broken
cup left alone on the old table.

And now comes the weeping, at last.
Bitterness, rage, and despair, are the
words that force themselves alive.

For here in the world is where I
have found so many special people.
Their weeping shall be added to mine,
or so this is what I have imagined.

There are so many more poems
to write, and a great many more
to be read. So many creative pieces
to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.

And now comes the weeping, at last.
It begins with a memory and slithers
down until it is a force all its' own.

And now comes the truth, as it will.
Humbly disguised as caring hands.
Let the rain begin in these eyes.