So many thoughts feelings expressions emotions
locked behind deadpan eyes and a voice that's toneless.
A mountain of a person consolidated to this form.
A body unimpressive.
A face unexpressive.
The chaos upstairs requires all of my attention.

Conversing takes a back-seat which is why I seem distant.
Too many things to say only leaves me in silence.
I don't know how or where to begin.
If only I could let you inside to weather the storm
maybe you could make sense of this nonsense and bring me to port.

Welcome to my escape from reality…
A mirror to my soul,
My never-never land,
Understand?

A dream to write the words that whole world sing
or preach rather
in the hopes that maybe it’ll mean something when I’m gone…
my worst fear is wondering if this even matter when I’m gone
because the world’s being pulled by the influence of technology
and I’m hoping we don’t lose the basics in the process.

Excuse me miss,
May I tempt you with a verse?

and the contents of this book belong to,
the one and only…

James Desire

A clean slate on the date of January 26th
and I can’t believe it ended up like this
I mean how rap has become the nominator
and R&B; seems to have lost it’s appeal
what happened to the smooth seduction of the voice
From an introduction,
to the core of one’s soul
every note and rhythm makes us crave more…
and what happened to the women who believe in love
and the making of which could be so passionate,
You see all that’s needed is the right mood.
Don’t mean to intrude, but check out tracks 8 & 9 of Usher’s Confessions
That’s superstar and its interlude
and with a flow like woah
I make nonsense bring clarity
sincerely reaching into the inner depths of your mind
or even for some, their soul, just to let them know
We share something in common.
See what I’ve done is make a possibility for a connection
I long to bring a bit of understanding…
Between the few souls that float along with us on this rock called Earth.

Truly Yours,
James Desire

I had a very ****** up day so if you value your life stay away I'm not afraid to slay whether it be on page or to your face I'm enraged at the fuckery I had to endure today if I had my way I'dve laid in bed all day but I guess that's not how things work in this age I'm grateful for this ink to abuse because without this therapeutic fuel I wouldn't have a muse but then again I draw on life the good and the strife

wait a minute... cut that **** off

(beat to hit em up drops)

First off **** yo **** on this grim *** day when it rains I feel pain enough fuel to slay
you claim to be a gangsta but you ain't done ****
so sit the **** down ***** and **** my ****
Cyber Tough guys go ask your admins how I'll have ya cut yo little *** up, seen you in pieces, now go eat your release Little trolls don't **** around with me I'll reach thru and smack you through the screen, like I'm legit mean.
I'll let you ******* know it's on for life
don't let your account cause your death tonight


haha... little troll ******* murdered on page and killed... **** with me get yo blood spilled you know

see type emojis you little ***** brony
keep talking **** Imma ******* up.
keep insulting me but you just can't finish now you're gonna feel the wrath of a menace ******* I hit em up.

Creativity (Midnight Freewrite)

Once upon a time, my mind was blank.
Could I finally be sane
from the feelings ingrained in my so often flooded mind?
This ocean pushes the small grains of sand as though keeping
them all at one place,
the inability to crawl back to where they once were.
Accompanied by many,
yet purified throughout the constant washing due
to clashing of waves.
The stubborn rocks give in,
once enormous,
they've become wearisome from being pummeled over and over by the ruthless ripples,
eating away mercilessly like piranhas.
The rocks begin to deteriorate like my wretched nightmares,
as if it was inevitable for them to reciprocate this way.

I think to myself

Could I for once create something beautiful without the taint
of distortion my pessimistic perspective brings upon my cursed
brain?
Or is the lust after such a wicked dream be looked down
upon by my insides which take control of me?

Perhaps one should blame his imaginations
for considering such a change.
Imaginations which were once banished.
Ones leading to joy and happiness,
when one was once optimistic to the sun and the trees,
the butterflies in his stomach that
cause him to day dream.
The butterflies which took him away from the struggles, and constant agony.
The one that drove him away from the thoughts
of his uncles,
and made him believe they would be there as he woke.

The kind of imagination that
One must pinch himself to see if he's awake.

But why do I feel?

                                                                I once had the power to dream,
                                                 To think such miracles were real.
                             I dared to think there was such a thing.

                                                     My creativity got the best of me.

Well, what now, hey?
     I threw the dog overboard yesterday.
     The day before, the day?
Where will you go, hey?

I heard the orchestra-man play
The same way,
     Sanctum, requiem, asylum
All Latin in his French dog-eared play.

     Hear the monkey, playing accordion play
To the whirling whirly-whirly-ghig
     Tre dramatique, no? Today
I understand you're just as "tramatig."

I want to hear your Frenchmen play
Play ***** pipes play play
      In his dog-eared French *****-man
Play

But I cannot, cannot say
     Tears of joy, in hydrant spray
The Hyades triumphant rainbow stay
     Cough your little fears away;

Hear the Star Spangled Francis Key play
Frenchmen play, play,
Little piggies counted play
Black white keys with little piggle-plumps play

Atone-al, A-tonal---atonal tonal sounds as if to say
"Getting married here to stay"
       All alone and all today
      Settle down if for a day
And who will hear the trumpet play
When *****-man Frenchman say
"Where? Home of the free" and stay

Keep your hands away
Never want to        let you say
               "Hear me, hear ye, all you weary, weary dreamers
         But never left your confidence like Russell-rustle leaf-blown willow-white

You fill them up with seventy two pay
      Make a kite, to(k)night, allRight
      Thank god for the fleas in the right
Hairless creatures for to sway

I threw the dog overboard yesterday
The day before, the day
And if you'd wanted it to stay
You should've say, you should've say

But never let my hand betray
The vein, the line, the artery
Of arterial shells bombastically
Loquacious to a fault, this day

They say "You want another day"
They say "You never wanted say"
They say "You wasted every day"
They say "They say, they say, they say"

                   But e'er forget, ne'er forget
                   I'll despise you abandon heaven for earth to get
       And leave your money, your millions behind
       For mansions with my Lord to find

But in the ceiling never was a god to pray

My teacher told me,
"Write something.
It's required."
So, I did.

And it hurts,
to put it down
on paper,
to share it with the world.

But I was inspired.
He inspired me.
It's a mess of all the things in my head,
but it all comes back to him.

it hurts
when you see someone this attractive.
he has messy brown hair
with golden streaks

and eyes
like a oceanic abyss.
he smiles as if
i'm the funniest thing in the world.

and his laugh
is the music
my ears have unknowingly longed to hear
all my life.

he's a musician,
an actor.
his voice is like the rocks on the shores
that sirens lured sailors into.

it's the rough,
raspy,
most beautiful kind
of angelic.

he's beautiful,
and
i think
i love him.

~Ashton Grayson Everly

I can't deal with you if you're so limp that I can feel the burn it makes when I look at you. I say it over and over and over and over, "You're allowed to start things," and "You can have an opinion."

If you'd like to be a loose feather, submissive to every sway of god's breath, keep being so ******* easy to walk on.

There was a time when I ached to know your thoughts so I could love you. I laugh at how ridiculous that would be. I can't love someone who can't fight.

Sanctified by scorpions,
the secret touch of midnight water
sneaking black upon the shore.
Deep-sea chests full of hearts,
some broken, some missing.

The most indefinable *****, pushed
out of my head and out of my body.
shattering the surface of glassy mirrors,
mirages of masochistic light bending at will.
Take me, still I always surrender.
Spit out a little more solid than before,
more than just flesh drifted onto sands.
The mystery of subtle transformation
beneath your hands.

The whole thing smells like chlorine, which is extremely unsettling because chlorine always tastes green and a lot like hereditary paranoia. These pants were only two washes  removed from brand new, and now there's a slit in the knee, a slit as precise as the shape my eyes make when I'm suspicious of wanderlusting newcomers who moonlight in my former prison cell.  And I'm unsure if I should call it like I'd like it to be and say the **** things were defective or if I should investigate further as to where I placed my legs while hacking bits of plastic.

I'm TIRED of hacking at bits of plastic. I daresay if things start looking up, I could get there. I'm desperate, while this pumpkin-leaf hole grows in my chest, I'm realizing I'll never get to Lancaster at this rate. Sure, sure, I'm obsessed. I also have a blonde tail hanging from a tack on my shelf and a lot of cards tacked to my wall. They either resemble a quilt, a window or a complete mess.

I'm relying on plastic cups and the Internet to continuously foster this false sense of belonging. And I don't want to shatter it, but I'm terrified by the threat of a midterm and I feel trapped by my own sky. I mean, have you SEEN the prices for quaint bed and breakfasts? But the sad truth is, I would be haunted by insurmountable guilt at leaving her behind. The cash flow isn't flowing, either. I'm thinking I'll have to forget about it and sit at my shiny laptop on an empty desk, staring at the cottage cheese ceiling and wondering if God is looking back.

In infinite succession you will find Jesus Christ
In our world without proof and erased history, he existed.
he did, and he is there. He was man and God in one.
He was the messiah who came. It's just how you choose to believe in Him.
Or maybe not, maybe it is anathema if you believe in some other thing.
See, these things are what they are. God has found you.

think, what his name means. perfect circle. the epitome of human existence. like, a gauge boson of love, or am i going too far?

it's all good.
that is, if you choose to believe it is.

i hope you aren't looking for answers in these words,
cause, oh... dear lord. you'll be looking for
an eternity, child!

Say what I say and mean what I mean this stream of consciousness thing is quite a release and I know it's not a diary but it's fun to let others spy on me even if only one or two or three will ever see what I'm writing it's still exciting to be open and share because I was closed off from people for the majority of my life and it had to do with self-esteem but now that I don't care what others may think this whole experience is quite liberating so let me become even more  openly free and dare to share something that has been bothering me and that is the fact that so many asshats have mocked and teased and called me gay or alluded to it by what they say and it's been happening my whole life and even in this rehab stay the homophobia is in play and yes I'm effeminate in so many ways but here's the real secret, oh my gosh, I'm not gay! but part of me wants to just pretend that I am to make it uncomfortable but it wouldn't be fair of me because I'm comfortable in my sexuality and that would be retaliatory and just as inflammatory but beyond all of that I really don't get it why people are so upset about how others do hit it can't we just live and let live why do we label each other by whatever preference that we discover to help us feel closer to love because isn't that what human beings are wired  to do so come on I implore you all who are stuck in your hatred to tell a coworker about who you thought of the last time you masturbated and then I'll ask you again if it's any of your business

Most kids are excited to turn 21 to drink and go to the bar. Not me, I can do that now. I’m excited to be old enough to foster a child. That’s gonna be truly amazing I think. I really can’t stand this house. I’ve always been trapped in it. The doors are unlocked, but still I’m trapped. I feel as if I can’t escape. It’s always one thing after another. My mom just blocked my phone 11-6 again. What the hell is that gonna do? I’m gonna be 18 in a month. They think I’m gonna wake up one day and forgive them and think that they were always right. But it’s never gonna happen. I was raised to be both racist and homophobic, and to their disappointment, I will never be either. Someday I may regret my gauges, who knows? But right now I love them. I think the only things I will truly ever regret are the things that caused me heartache. Not just stupid physical observations. And yeah I’m immature. “You can’t be young forever, but you can be immature forever”. My parents will never understand me. All they will ever see in me is what they dislike. My hair color. My dark clothing. My multiple ear piercings. My “immaturity”. My bad grades, my foul language. But the truth is, none of these things are really flaws in myself. They’re all part of what makes me, me. I’m beautiful and there’s no one else like me. And to be honest I don’t really care if I can’t text after 11. I don’t care if I can’t look at **** on my computer (not that I would if I could) because it’s blocked. It’s all about the power. They say they can’t stand the Obama family because they make stupid laws about things we should be able to decide for ourselves. But do they even realize that’s what they do to me? Life for real, on school nights I’m rarely up past 10 anyways. It’s pathetic really, how much control they crave to reign over me. I can’t be controlled. I’ve always been a free spirit. I don’t go with the crowd and I don’t care what people think of me. I can take care of myself. No one knows what’s best for me but me. They think the things I do are dangerous, but they’re not. And so what if they were? It’s not like I wanna live a fragile life anyways. I wanna get crazy and wild. Act dumb every once in a while. I wanna be free, I wanna feel alive! I wanna make up silly things and tell pointless lies to giggle about later. I wanna laugh, and I wanna break the rules. I will never conform. I will never be what anyone wants me to be. And I love it. I have one life and I don’t wanna live it how anybody else did. I wanna be remembered. I wanna leave my crazy mark on the world. This life is my only chance to be stupid and silly. And I’m not gonna give that up because my parents (or anyone for that matter) want me to always make the right decisions. I have so much to offer the world and if they can’t look beyond what they don’t like, then so what? That doesn’t make me a disappointment. It doesn’t make me any less beautiful. Their opinions don’t define me. So what if they toss me out~ that doesn’t make me disposable. It just makes them sad and pathetic for not realizing that I truly am a princess. I’m a pop princess. I’m a punk princess. I’m a rock princess. I am the princess of Christ. Shame on them for being embarrassed of me. We’re all made in Christ’s image, and the fact that they’re embarrassed of me, well I think that makes them embarrassed of Christ himself…(jokes, well kinda). So what if they don’t want me around certain family members because they don’t want them to see what a failure I am. But that makes them the failure, not me. I’m the most beautiful person ill ever meet on the inside and out because that’s what I choose to be. Beauty doesn’t just strike people at random, you choose it.

I’m not one to speak about my **** in past tense, man
I’m presently experiencing this seemingly neverending comedy
Where it’s a constant and uphill battle fighting off tragedy
Walk talk, carry a stick, but I got no equipment except my ****-**** *****,
Oh no, it gets me in trouble, trying to get paid minimum wage
is a struggle that gives me a headache, bro, how am I even supposed to make my dough — I wanna live that **** life, But the life that has brought me here has been to the co-op --
******* *****,
I’m not Laverne ***, I’ve been pinned in a corner forced to **** dem off, *** work a bright option in the sea of diseased folk who really don’t wanna see their covers thrown off of tv screens, developed a taste for the feeding now they don’t believe me when I stand up and I say, I represent. **** ***** you don’t look good, yo, punched out face and a voice too low. Yo, are you even trying?

Chinese bells red tassels
scarlet swaying winds
Mongolian warriors on horseback
leather gauntlet falcons
grip with strong talons
Face-bent good and hot
Cheese curds steaming
in the cold winter night
on the mountain snow-covered
steppes step back front
door and took out to the
horizon horses drive towards
the mud and centre of our camp
Young girls wrestle in embroidered boots
helmets on lacquered heads black
as satin and moth wings...

I'm not a fan of spatulas, not when the pancakes burn and their gilt edges look pretentious. Perhaps ostentatious is a better word when mahogany is used in the kitchen. I feel a lot of guilt, mostly over silly things I can't change, so sew me a quilt of pockets in which to store my regrets.

I won't say I got especially drunk, but a few nights later there was a skunk, and I'm thinking that if you had stopped to ask his name, he would have introduced himself as Alfred. However, all this talk of individuality has got me thinking of the polyester comforter in beige she sewed and how there was once that mix-up with my former Sunday school teacher and a national holiday that didn't exist. Does a bigger beard make a man a better prophet?

When a person stops to contemplate a grass blade, the whole world opens up in wonder. What good does greenery do? I'm telling you, it's not so much the greenery and more the change of scenery that's what makes a person whole. Thankfulness won't come in pieces, and God's grace is one of those intricate jigsaw puzzles spread out on a table in your heart as it gets glued with love and matted and framed with goodness.

It's not that I'm in love with my billing office, it's just that I'm thinking of someone else when I put the stamp on. And I've tried to keep my thoughts quiet, but forget wearing my heart on my sleeve, I'm a bank window with paper cutout promises. But if you ever think of me, I'm thinking you might have a deficit on your account.

Just because there's no way I left the oven on when I left the house doesn't mean I don't have the right to check.

woe is you,
twisted legs that taste like high school,
swallowing sticks of ink
til it seeps out your fingernails.
chicken scratch beads of blood
speak words on your rails of thighs.
woe is you, woe is you,
thunder is your presence
but gentle mewing is your soul.
let’s throw a big ******* after party
for your big ******* three-ring affair.
my fake little darling, your eyes:
shrink-wrapped in disguise,
pre-meditated, post-medicated,
meandering rings of trees
whisper ugly stories of your intentions.
my translucent lovely, your heart
sputters steam from mechanical parts.
it chugs right along, still
you question the last time it felt pure.
woe is you, woe is you

You want masterpieces
but I need time.
My thoughts are formless luminescent snakes
a flickering halo
tiny fluid flakes
I’ve no control of.
It’s not in me to create a
masterpiece
right now
I’m 16.
Did Shakespeare show
potential at 16? Did he win
   a golden
    key?
Then why me?

Teach me the secrets  
of time and the universe.
Whisper them sweetly as you ******.

I’ve nothing to say.

For years I will think of nothing
     and then one day maybe something and
that will feel like a cold shower

Who’s the Brontë sister everyone forgets?

      Does everything matter or nothing? Is it a crime to put my pen on paper without a meaningful idea does anything mean nothing or everything?
    Am I simply killing trees pontificating
         needlessly?
              Do my inky ponderings amount to wankings?
What does it take in this modern age of information
to do something great
with a piece of pen and paper?
      I am wasting my day each day doing what you tell me from the minute I wake up at five fifteen to the moment I walk back through my door twelve hours later
my day is
   structured
around a list of concepts chosen for me by whom.
   Of what do I write of what I know if I know
not and nothing
I know
Wordplay my wankings amount to
   hours
I need to
work
        on writing and
wanking.
      My vocabulary is **** because I’ve no time
      for classics and all I do is watch Netflix.

Some people say to me often sometimes
“I wish I was black.”
and sometimes maybe what I want to say is
“*******.”
but what almost always I say is “Me too.”
The mother who birthed me can be labeled only white
my father spent his childhood playing on islands
and together they made something
       truly
neither this     nor that
and it
always sometimes
drives me mad.

Your face is a map that leads home to me.
Mother may I
         lay down
to sleep?

Pumpkin carvings in a row
I’ve nothing to say
for there’s nothing I know.

Free-Write 12
What's up with this feeling?
This unfamiliar feeling, dealing blows to my core
Bass shaking up the ceiling
I tremble with each quake trying to find stable ground
But struggle to find it, see I don't make a sound
The building is collasping and my mind gets to racing,
chasing an idea I haven't yet schemed up
yet another vivid scenero I've just so happened to dream up
a place where every thought and idea seems to fall and become debris around me
and my heartbeat emerges and lashes out wildly
as if to get my attention but I try hard not to listen
because my hearts desires arnt always morally acceptable
at least by my mind standards
You see I fear that emotion can drive us crazy
So I conceal apart of me because I couldn't seem to find a balance
And plus I'm tryna stay focused but it's strange without guidence
And at times when things don't happen to make sense
And the pressure gets too intense it happens to breakfree and dispense the nonsense that I've refused to hear into my consciousness.
Therefore I ask myself, what is this?
Why do I think when I must act?
I understand a need for caution
but maybe a leap of faith is a far better option
You've gone this far, don't hesitate, take action
If you fail, well good
Because if you hadn't how else would you have knew
I swear to you in time you will improve
Because in life there are things you must do
But you won't be able to if you can't prove
That when the oppurtunity shows, you will ensue.

Unacknowledge recognition.
How could I be pushed to succeed-
by something so oxymoronic and invisible?

The spontaneous outbursts of appreciate,
do they make it worth while?

I strive to show them-
my best,
I strive to be their best-
I go unnoticed,
still in silence.

I race faster toward my goal,
chants of praise thunder in my head,
still not good enough,
but I feel better now.

Where am I to run to,
when I no longer-
have the beauty of gratitude-
spoken or unspoken,
to fuel my broken heart?

Tryin’ to figure this thing out
Heart flying
Straight up leaving behind
This mind of mine
Why are we moving
And to where
Why now
Why am I so detached
From the then and the now

To be alone is desired
A sense of inner peace
And yet I couldn’t even tell you
What that means

Seeking reasons for beliefs
Supreme beings to believe in me
Some chains to bind
So I can escape and say I’m free

Clinging to the cleaning
Of inner space
Restless
Endless torment
When faced with rejection
Of expectations
Innocent sentiments
Soon cemented
Into views of how the earth
Should be

Move me, stream
Fill my lungs if you must
But I hope that I may be present
So that I can open up
Done with the dissociation
Futile, now
What once saved me as a child

I’m alive
I am here
There is so much to be done
Not to neglect portals
to Being
the Way and One

Do you ever,
Look at me when I'm not looking?
With longing and love and affection?

Do you ever,
Day dream of holding my hand,
In places we could only dream of?

Do you ever,
Gush to all your friends,
About how deeply in love you are?

Do you ever,
Think perhaps,
I am the luckiest man in the world?

Because,
Do I ever?
Every moment of every day.

Lately, though,
I feel as though you don't.
It hurts.

Gravity** (Inspired by the music of Miguel)
“The way you pull me, you move me…”

Isn’t it interesting just how strange life is?
so many variables can influence the outcome
we all have a path to follow I guess we just need to discover where that path lies…
living without vision of a future is frightening
honestly, I need to have a tendency to try new things
because if not, I’ll lead life with no means to develop and grow
I shook because I feared the loss of it all
overtime she became important to me
I will not deny that…
I got too comfortable, I admit that ****** up once or twice
but pessimism was my downfall.
the same happens with poetry
no matter how many times I’m told
how good I might be,
the minute I step on stage,
and the light hits my face
I lose all confidence in my speech
my head falls down and stays glued to my feet
and just for a moment I feel the defeat
till voices in the crowd stand out
cheering me on, picking me up
my voice a little raspy
my legs a little shaky
I take a deep breath,
and slowly regain my composure
until I’m starting to speak those words
encrypted with stories I like to tell
or related to stories I might’ve heard
I hear nothing but them,
lost in my head, remembering the rhythm
remembering the feeling of how my pen formed every curve that created these rhymes
and in no time I find
there they are no longer any words to speak
no more hidden courage to reach
all that remains is the lesson I sought to breech into my thoughts
and become a teaching that I preach
so I hope that these words leech to the meek
or whoever was looking for some substance in this content
all this derived from the melody of gravity on continuous repeat
my heart and this beat
flow together oh so harmoniously
I suppose that might be why
Poetry and music seem to make so much sense to me…

EXTRA:
Our eyes meet,
My hands grasp at your hips
A kiss to your cheek
and I bit you a good evening sweetheart
Before I met you
Too little too late,
I won’t forget you…

you are so ******* uninteresting,
even in your shrouds of silken words
that try hard to fall around you gracefully.
just uninteresting enough to me
that i will capture
both your worth and your worthlessness,
your transparency and translucency,
in tissue-paper poems
that i set alight.
the ashes that melt the carpet
and the soot inside my eyes
makes me laugh,
at least for today.

I wish I knew.

I wish I knew,
the distance from me to you,
Heaven, how great could the distance truly be?

Perhaps,
are you sitting right next to me,
a heart en face, but invisible to my mortal eye?

I believed you to be a necessity,
my heart, my secrets,
kept under lock and key,

taken for granted,
sickness doesn't mean death.
I am sick too,
does that mean I can join you?

My only dilemma is my promise to you,
how hard the battle is sometimes,
but I will stay here,
and pray you are waiting for me somewhere.

how can an expression so simple
be so addicting?
smile is appealing,
mind is brilliant,
but it must be too early
I mean how could it be that you've infiltrated my thoughts
and reside comfortably in mind?
You're something else...
like Ne-Yo said,
"You're the best thing I never knew I needed"
and you've just succeeded in reminding me
that life's course holds a vast amount of surprises
you most certainly may be the most pleasant
and I know some of the best words are better left unsaid
but I just thought you deserved a little recognition.
A toast to my future queen, may you continue to shine on.

Who says heritage?
I came from a rib,
didn't you know?
or did I come from a ****** sightless fish?
The elders my parents have hidden me from-
they say we came to be by talented twins,
everyone playing their role.

Why can't I tell you?
I came from you!
you, too.
I created myself -
from dust I grew.
Strong and lean, I don't need protection.

My heritage begins with me,
for that is the only pure truth they say.

you are words on a screen and i crumble
beneath your nimble shreds of time,
the weight of memories.
your zorro ****** energies
that bubbled up inside me and i laughed
…blood rolls down my back and i tell you it tickles.

i lost a part of me in you
******* and eight months
twisted and locked in a Penrose triangle cage.
hearts that are shiny, unspeakable illusions,
minds running on cancerous steam:
we were mere fantasies but i left mine in the garden.

i am not empty, but closed
shrouds to misguide the weary,
holding believers hostage til hope gives way.
you were the only mirage i ever wept for,
witnessing the most vast furrows of my darkness,
i was rendered detached in the valley of your thighs.

Working. All hours into the late night. My moment comes, have ya love canceling your date nights. Even writing it out, I know that thinking aint right. Straying from my path I need to get my aims right.

The sun shines in my face,
Insisting that i wake up.
It's a new day,
But I don't know the first thing to do,
My mind travels but my body is stuck,
Might as well lay me under a truck,
I wouldn't get up to save my life
I'd rather be in heaven flying kites
Like I did when I was a little kid
Down by the beach with my dad
Teaching me to play catch.

Those are the good old days,
But part of being a man is accepting responsibility
Doing what you have to even though
You don't want to.
If it could go my way,
I would kidnap the president and make him
Work for me.
Then everyone would think it's a good idea
And we'd bring back slavery.
Except this time we can tie chains
Around uncle Tom,
Imagine never having to serve your own food.
Hey you got a slave I like,
Let's Make a fair trade.

Slave,
Why don't you go to School for me,
Give me your Lambos and your millions,
Give me the keys to all your mansions.
The Bible tells me that we as humans have the
Power to rule over animals,
And I'm the one being ruled,
Maybe I'm not human.

When I was a child in my mind I ruled the world,
Now that I'm grown all I want to do is
Smoke and drink.
I go home and find my child Hood toys,
they look at me and they no longer recognize me,
I ask: how am I supposed to keep time from changing me ?
They respond that time is the Potter,
We are the clay,
We form as time passes,
But regardless of our suffering and pain
Regardless of any tears that may be hidden behind
Our eyes,
Regardless of the chains around our wrists,
Neck and legs.
Regardless of the scars on our back
For all the mistakes that we've made
And the sweat of our body
That bleeds so that we have food on our
Table and a blanket at night,
Regardless of all this,
Perfection comes with time,
And in time we must learn patience.

for Daniel, again

It's like an image you stare at for hours,
minutes, maybe
--as you are so aware of time--
of the galaxies from Hubble

painted in blue hues or yellow subtones
as if to say, *This is your heaven,
and it's so far away.

Except it isn't.

I mean, it isn't like that at all,
because I could stare at the stars forever
and feel utterly alone,
except for the cicadas telling me

Hello, hello, we are here, remember?

It's like an image you could stare at
for hours,
a picture in a gallery
someone decided was art.

Except it is, isn't it?

I...?

&

You are off in another room
but your eyes linger here;
your laughter gathers in pools
of twine around my feet.

I can hear you echoing like
a Doppler effect in my
ears.

love...?

&

It's been a day but it's been years,
you know--years and so many
years
and for all the smiles there's still that

overwhelming fear that maybe
someday you'll be gone

and I'll be old,
or maybe a little less young,

or something...

Maybe tomorrow you won't call.

Maybe you'll never say it.

you...?

&

I don't think there's enough time
for me to---your eyes like waves--...?

And the music in my head
reaches a crescendo

when I fall asleep beside--,,

!;

Where did you go?
Who am I now?

You are strength,
You are beauty,
You are courage.

I am lost,
I am hurt,
I am no one.

Come find me,
Sally.

What else can I really say?
Your taste has slipped off my tongue,
and pulled all the good words with it:
twisting into the carpet fibers and
matted with ashes of dreams and Marines.
Don't come too close
or I may remember everything about you;
far too engulfing to keep mind's pace.
Foolish is she
who claims she can forget it all.
We had eternity paved
with brown glass and fast food trash.
Bleeding, our soles.

I could tell you, Near and Far, the same old thing;
Near, however, cannot stray
and Far is always too much away;
     but God in fury doth sleep the day,
       and to his mouth he holds the pray
               ;
His Far-to-Near-ness never says a thing;
Near, however, cannot stay
and Far is ever convinced away;
      but God in fury doth sweep the sway
       and to his mouth he keeps to play

So, carry on, ye Cherubim!
And let the Lyres of Heaven sing!
While Seraphim doth give to sway
those Pearly Gates of yesterday!
       and God in fury will find the way
        to hold your count of ne'er away

Forever! he sings, Forever and Now!
While Near and Far burn deep below;
the surface with its great bellows
with furnace in St. Helen's grace;

And God, in fury, will keep you here,
and have your counts from Far and Near
and hold the evils giv'n to sway
the gracely thoughts of how-today

**while never was a grace beheld
than that of Far and Near...

There comes a point in life
When you have to admit that
There's more sadness and pain
Than all your happiness combined

Reality can swallow us whole
If we're not careful with what we say
The things we tell ourselves and
The people that come our way

Cause I've been talking to people
Who make me feel so happy
Just trying to forget my sadness
And the things that have been happening

I'm sure you have realized this
Because making others happy
Makes us feel happy too
Just sometimes it's not what we expected

We sometimes forget that
We're not all the same
We don't all tell each other
We love them the way we want to

But the path that you choose
Right now in this moment
Makes all the difference tomorrow
When you decide to give up

Cause you didn't make an effort yesterday
Why should you make one today?
Because happiness is worth is the risk, that's why

Forget your reputation right now
Because all it does is hold you back
From getting want you want so dearly
If you want something in life you have to give everything
You have just
To get
It

How fast can my feet run?

Not on a treadmill,
But across the expanse of the world,
Above the hills and below the valleys,
Into the caves and onto the sandbars?

I don't know where or why I fell down again it's like sadness is an inescapable stalking fan but that's when I pickup this old reliable pen it's old and tested but its always gotten the job done so now I need to confront these feelings with an ink loaded gun.

breathe

Let me start by saying I love my family and I know that they do mean well but sometimes they unintentionally put me through hell first off I don't mind helping with basic maintenance my grandpa is getting up in age so like dollars it makes sense
But why is it I'm always the number one draft pick for every single job?
The very least you can do is offer to help him out my god!

Secondly, to my aunt who I show the utmost respect towards
I know you want the best for me but meddling in my life while letting yours fall down the tubes can win you some Darwin awards.

I hated that I had to write this but I needed to get this of my chest,
So maybe me putting this into verse was for the best

Love you when they need ya. Becareful who you follow, they might not know how to lead ya. Some friends you can eat with, others they feed ya. They aint all good, some will catch amesia. Forgetting the times you’ve helped them and leave ya. And either you stay sitting, sad as ****. Or you get up, learn and don’t let it happen again.

You make me feel beautiful.
Your eyes smile as I watch them-
they glide up and down my body
I have forgotten my insecurity-
You see past the overgrown hair covering
my underarms and my *****.

You make me feel ****.
Your kisses trail, covering my lips,
my chest, my stomach, my ***
I have forgotten my insecurity-
You see past my blemished skin, my pores,
my pimples, my scars.

You make me feel strong.
Your hand caresses my ***, sliding up the
small of my back, resting on my stomach
I have forgotten my insecurity-
You see past the darkness in my soul-
the pain, the shame, the burden.

With you, I am naked and exposed-
You make me feel beautiful.

I wrote a few lines
Back in a time where I thought I knew
Made complications seem as simple as the different shades of grey
She lead astray
Venom racing thru my mind that day
Each second allowing it to coarse deeper into my thoughts
After all the struggle, could you really still have lost?
Fought but never took action
Took another avenue
For the path seemed way to cluttered for the allotted time of two
Conflicted, a tear fell from mine eye
But from the grin that followed the sorrow one could only assume acceptance…
Lost in confusion
I’m sure it’s not a delusion
So I came to a conclusion
Must I let go and grow
Or hold tight and let her know?
...
and I just stopped writing,
finished.