To all the goodbyes
I say goodnight
To everyone that dies
I hope it's bright

To everyone;
With a razor
Hand of pills
Tied rope
Dangling keys
Extreme height below
Finger over a light trigger
Electricity at hand
Open propane tank
Empty plate, with full glass

Stop, think about who you're leaving behind
I know my words aren't going to stop you, but just read
Did you bother to write and leave a note?
Is it worth it then?
Saying you're sorry, knowing you'll leave someone behind?
Stop. Think about why you're doing it
Do you have nobody?
Think about your opportunities that'll fly past
The chance of ever meeting someone?
Did you lose someone?
Think about if you'll actually see them again?
Being bullied?
Fight back, with whatever you have
Life shoved you down?
No, I'm not asking you to get up!
I'm telling you to get your *** into a nap
Think about all the possibilities that might not be
Think of all the opportunities and people in the future
Think of your legacy
Think of anything except the pain
Now balance the pain and everything else
Want to jump? Skyfall
Want to shoot? Paintball and games
Want to hang? Bungee
Want to overdose? Take 10% of it and party
Suffocate in propane gas, or blow up? Cook a nice meal, invite a friend or family. Surround yourself. No friends and family? Find a friend, build a family.
Want to speed wrong side of the road? Speed on the right side of the road and get carried with the wind, do it over again
Want to cut yourself? Cut off the pain and wrong influences
Electrocute yourself? Rather save electricity and watch a good movie with friends or family. Have none? Watch a movie alone, play a game online. Make friends, build a family
Want to starve yourself so you can get drunker and finally forget it all, when your liver gives in? Eat a lot more, blow off some steam at the gym and build a body that girls/guys would like, attract them and make new friends. Drink with friends.

I've tried many things, some of them didn't work out, or I couldn't stay awake longer. Create new dreams if the old ones died. Work hard for them. Achieve something
"At least leave a ******* legacy behind" is what my bestfriend, Steph used to say
"You can get out of this alive, but maybe a little ****** up, but anything damaged can be repaired" My bestfriend Josh used to say
"Life can carry you away without what you thought you needed" my bestfriend Divene used to say

Even more quotes from people I've lost in my life, so I ask you just think about it all
Still going through with it? Remember it's a one way ticket

Don't worry, girl
I'm not going to cheat
You will be my morning sunrise
You will make my air pressure rise
You'll alleviate the worst weight that strains my soul
You'll be the grass to a knoll
You pierced me like paint from a paintball pistol
Don't you worry about a thing
You can be my favorite thing
Since Sour Patch Kids and Baseball

she texted 'I dreamt of you this afternoon'
which was a promising start
'you were a paintball instructor...
and you shot me in the heart'

now - I'd never dreamed of her
(and thought that even worse)
I wondered if I should mention it
or just write it down in verse

but, that very night,
dreaming in the solace of the dark
I took part in her archery class
and she shot cupids arrow through my heart

My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who is always a gentleman
He opens doors, pulls out chairs
And is polite to my parents
And yet when he wants
He can be so hilariously fun
He's not afraid to wrestle
Or play games, even have a nerd fight
But when the day is done
We can sit and talk for hours
He listens to every word
And says more than "okay"
He will smile and act intelligent
Helping with my problems
But he's not too serious
To put up with my insanity

My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who is always there for me
I will never feel shy or scared
In his protective hold
He will back me up
Even if I'm wrong
And when we sit together
He will wrap his arms around me
And sit tight and perfect
And he is always there for me
When is about emotions too
He will be my steady rock
To comfort if I cry
He always try's to make it better
No matter what is wrong

My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who is thinking of me
He pulls special surprises
With flowers and romance
He never forgets a special day
But he's not the kind of guy
Who is crazy about anniversaries
He might give a gift once a year
To keep it real special
He plans dates
And makes special days
Just for the two of us
And while he keeps them
Perfectly romantic he lets them
Have fun too.

My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who compliments me now and then
Even if he doesn't mean it
Just to make me feel nice
But he isn't all worried about beauty
He notices me for me
And isn't afraid to joke around
And say what's on his mind

My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who likes the things I like
The kind of guy who
Shares my dreams
And relishes in the insanity
He wants to make the impossible come true
Without forgetting about now
He will think about the Future
While we banter with each other

My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who doesn't see me as just his girl
He is protective and strong
Yet easy going too
He isn't afraid to get *****
To roll around in the mud
He is always up for a game
Of road hockey or paintball
He will play video games
And sports
Without going easy
He will keep things fun
And won't cry about losing to a girl.

My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who gets along with friends
Who is always charming to new people
And who my friends like back
The kind of guy who
Gets along with a group
Yet doesn't mind to be alone

My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who I write this incredibly long poem about
He is the kind of guy who is perfect in my eyes
He is the kind of guy who likely doesn't exist

I can’t stand that I can’t understand
Why my heart heaved its contents into your content hands,
Tearstains dripping through my fingers as we [danced].
I remember the days I’d [collapse] in crowded streets,
Because my heart would [skip] too many beats.
Then you’d [spin me], kiss my cheeks and whisper
Something sweet about my [feet’s] defeat.
But I knew then that I couldn’t [keep rhythm],
So I must’ve suffered from heart failure.

And once you left in October, and my soul was sober
Not drunk on my tears,
I would wonder what could’ve persuaded you to stay,
But once my heart attempted a [pirouette]
I no longer questioned my place.
.. I don’t know if you watched after that,
But I’m sure you saw the {snowprints} I’d leave in your yard,
My only way of telling you that I hated being my own {saving grace},
Because a {fallen angel} drops too hard.

But icicles hung from your eyelids that winter,
And splintered your vision.
Looking back, I believe you cried as much as I did,
And the tears froze across your eyes.
Because you never looked me in the eye as our minds ran to pieces
As we raced to find peace with ourselves.

You spun me for a loop,
My skull kissing paintball splattered remains of my left and right brain
As they bled all over themselves,
Knocking my sanity off of the shelves
In an attempt to explain whether love is history,
Or chemistry,
And I didn’t want to ponder the prospects
So paper was my band-aid fix all.
I wrapped my mind around it,
Concealed my soul beneath my words,
Until I was my own mummified form,
Too afraid to rip them off.
Because what if nothing had healed at all?
I rotted beneath my façade.
My smiley face band-aids the only hands of happiness that hugged me for
Months,
And I
Sunk
Into depression,
Not unlike this current recession,
Not knowing where my silver lining would be;
Wondering if it would come only when withered lines worked their way across my cheeks,
A gray hairline visible in the sun,
As proof my time had come,
To be happy.

But something better came sooner with the rains of May,
And a new boy painted smiles back onto my face.
Removing the bandages that had bruised my body,
And punctured the skin of my poetry.
So I was free to bleed again,
With fresh pieces to breathe in.

Was it happiness, or freedom that flushed my cheeks?
Or was it the uncomfortable spider that would weave my stomach in knots
As another part of me was lost
To the boy who painted my peace
For a price?

I didn’t mean to hand so much to him, love,
But a measure of pleasure came with a cost,
And at some point my beliefs were tossed to scatter in the wind,
And the spider of guilt in my stomach sunk its teeth right in,
Sadness seeping through my veins,
The venom of regret.

Because you were the only one who ever held all of me and none of me at the same time,
Who never asked for what I claimed to be mine.
All of me was yours,
Even the things you never asked for
Were stamped with your name for a future date.
But mail gets intercepted sometimes,
And my contents were spread
Before someone I hardly knew
And I-
Missed-
You…

Because you never asked for too much to touch or too much of my love
I loved you the only way I was able to.
And now…
I’m just a tainted tin can on the side of the street.
And I know you don’t have use for me,
But I’ll do my best to undo the dents of my past.
All I know is that yesterday you told me you hate it when I don’t say what’s on my mind.
But my tongue was a sponge that soaked up the ways that I’ve wanted to say
That I’m sorry.

And I’ve skipped my own beats for a year and a half,
Letting my turn to tell you I yearn for you pass
Right over
In an endless drum roll.
But-
I feel a –rhythmic- rattle-
In my –beaten-aluminum-body
As your footsteps
[Stop].
Please.
Don’t let me suffer for my heart failure.

i feel like the equivalent
of an abandoned paintball field.
I guess it could be peaceful.
But its a bit eerie to say the least.
Everything is all faded but you can tell
**** has gone down there.
You just cant know for sure what.
Like youre sure there were some great memories there.
But you also cant rule out
the possibility that
at one point in time,
someone has gotten an eye shot out.

In the middle of folding laundry one afternoon
thinking this might not be a big deal
but then again it's not such a bad way to spend the day and
the back door opened and
my neighbor showed up in full paintball gun attire and
pointed his paintball gun at me and
yelled at me to get on the ground!
i smiled and
put down my child's underwear and
grabbed his Buzz Lightyear sound and
light activated laser gun that he had recently gotten for Christmas and
aimed it at him and
yelled NO! You get on the ground and
then 40 men rushed into my house and
at least 10 of them had rifles and
i was thrown down on the floor,
wood floor,
right cheek made direct impact and
**** that hurt and
i heard a shout of a voice ordering the 10 men with the 10  rifles pointed at my head
not to shoot and
that the shoot to **** order was off,
that it was a toy plastic gun,
he repeated,
it was a plastic children's toy and
in one fell swoop of motion my right shoulder was taken out of its socket and
**** that hurt and
twisted around behind my back  in order to handcuff that hand to my other hand and
stand me up and
walk me out as I watched dozens and
dozens of what i could only presume to be storm troopers from the Star Wars movies wearing white protective gear covering their shoes bodies and
faces entirely
spilling into my house with the great invasion of an ant colony and
several groupings of men in black pants and
black shirts with white letters on the back spelling out different acronyms such as S. W. A.T., and
K.B.I,  KDH&E;  
The storm troopers were actually Bio HAZ MAT men
testing to see if  the air quality in the house was higher than their acceptable limits of
risk of having a chemical explosion occur
while in the house on that afternoon of January
when officers of the  Sheriff’s Office Special Operations Group
executed a search warrant at my house on Main St.in my small town in Kansas and
made entry at the location and
took me into custody while
Certified **** Lab Techs from the Sheriff’s Office
collected 2 Mountain Dew bottles and
some rubber tubing and
rendered the items safe and
Agents of HazMat Inc. were contacted and
responded to collect the hazardous materials for disposal
I sat in the back seat of the cop car and
thought this might be a big deal
this could be a bad way to spend the day

if we were to assign emotions to colors -
passion would be where magenta and orange kiss the horizon at sunset,
joy would be the yellow of my socks every easter sunday that i can remember,
and melancholy would be just another shade of blue.

i told him,
i am not done with you yet.
three weeks post breakup,
we shouldn't feel as unfinished as we do.
like, in the ridiculously complicated narrative of he and i,
the author got up one day,
scribbled a quick ending,
and then set the novel on fire.

i read an article in an obscure magazine
about Shelley Jackson,
an artist
who got thousands of people
to tattoo a singular word
from a story onto themselves,
and then sent them back to their scattered existences.

maybe that is what this is,
another scattered story.
another vaporized narrative.

i can feel it in the air,
but not pull the phrases together.
it's like trying to hold onto smoke.
our story slips through my fingers and gets in my eyes.

if we were to assign emotions to colors -
my ribcage would look like a Jackson *******.
my head would be a paintball arena.

i am so full of indigos,
and mustards,
and crimsons,
that Van Gogh, himself, would dip into my palette
and claim to have never seen such beautiful sadness before.

i don't know if it hurts because it still matters,
or if it matters that it still hurts.

i feel the frenzied ache of creation in my gut.
i am not a painter,
but my mirror is showing me
the immaculate collection of brushstrokes
i have become.

a few weeks ago,
i was approached by an artist who offered to paint my bruises.
to collect my contusions with watercolors.

what a beautiful intention,
to immortalize the growing pains,
memorialize the bumps along the way,
to make something permanent
of these perpetual transitions.

if we were to assign emotions to colors -
my pride would be gold-plated and rusting from use, like my grandfather's watch,
courage would be the pure green of every bud that has dared to grow through concrete,
and love?
love would be prismatic,
like spilled oil on asphalt.

a rainbow one moment,
vanished the next.

He keeps the contents of his life in boxes. The clear Rubbermaid totes with the locking lids that keep the contents from spilling out across the floor when they are least needed. The same containers that keep everything within protected against assailing liquid falling from above. Most of his possessions have long since been discarded, but there is an odd assortment of memories that are kept safe.

A model rocket that his grandfather, long since passed, used to take him to open fields to launch towards the heavens. It never quite reached, but in his mind he was chasing down the parachute of a spaceship returning from a long voyage.

Birthday cards received when it was still exciting to count the years. When the cards still had happy monsters devouring birthday cake and the short handwritten messages read "We are so proud of the person you are becoming".

First place medals from sports competitions, spelling bees, and field days. A single second place medal from a martial arts tournament where brute force could not overcome the wisdom of an elder opponent.

The metal plates off of every baseball trophy earned since playing teeball at age four. When the shelves could no longer support the weight of the trophies they were discarded, and the cheaply made nameplates are the only reminder left that they ever existed.

Too many years of school yearbooks with sloppy signatures following words of wisdom reminding him to stay cool, and that he would see you all again after the summer.

A red, sweat-stained Schlitz hat that was stolen from the older, much more cool, cousin. He stopped asking for its return years ago, and has probably forgotten that it even existed.

Certificates that prove he was once a member of Builder club, Beta club, Phi Theta Kappa, National Honor Society, Student Government, and Junior Ambassadors to the Chamber of Commerce. Reminders of times when joining clubs meant you got to miss class to hang out with your friends.

A single blue ribbon knotted three times as a reminder that it should never be untied. Beyond those simple knots are all of the love letters that were written between him and the first girl that was able to open his eyes so that he could see what love, and loss, truly meant.

An old, barely functioning, paintball gun that he bought with the money from his first real job. The same gun that, through some miracle, gave him and his father their first common interest. He picks it up from time to time and pretends that they are still hiding behind bunkers ready to charge the opposing team.

A tiny red Rock 'Em Sock 'Em robot ring used as an excuse to wrestle around in bed with one of his closest friends on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The blue ring moved far away and has long since stopped answering her phone, knowing that the rematch of the century will never occur.

Diplomas from high school and college that will probably never hang framed on a wall. He was never truly proud of accomplishments so easily attained.

Hiding in the shadows of these boxes is each first kiss that is a stone sitting beneath the shattered mirror friendships that could not hold their weight. He is reminded to find either lighter stones or more sturdy mirrors in the future.

Friends that he has met in countless towns huddle together, trying to stay warm amidst the bitter cold they perceive around them. He calls or texts from time to time, but the embers cannot replace the pyre he used to provide.

Lovers that never expected the love they received in return bask in the solace of the fact that they are rarely seen or disturbed. He smiles when he comes across them, but knows better than to retrieve them from the storage where they are kept.

He still keeps all of the contents of his life in boxes. The same clear Rubbermaid totes with the locking lids, whose transparency allows him to view the contents from afar without disturbing them. He says he uses them so all of the contents don't spill out when he doesn't want them to, but his blurred vision reminds him that he chose the waterproof variety for a reason.

It would only take an hour or two to unpack everything at each new location he moved to, but he knows that the next time he unpacks he will not be doing it alone. It becomes more difficult for him each time he has to condense everyone and everything of import into totes light enough to carry to the next location.

I knew a boy named Sanny.
Sanny had a fake metal leg.
He never would tell me why.

I never got to go to his house.
Sanny told me it wasn’t fun there.
So all day we swung on swings.

One day he had black circles around his eyes.
I asked him if he got hit with a paintball.
Sanny started crying and ran away.

The next day he told me he was sorry,
And placed his hand in mine.
I was confused, I didn’t understand,
Sanny this time told me why:

He likes boys.

I got scared and took a step back.
Sanny looked hurt and ran away.

Then the next day he wasn’t in class,
Mrs. Kipp said Sanny bled himself to death.

I cried, and ran away.

Life is not viewed linear:
not a happier year, a worse day;
It's the bigger picture and the sum of each day that make up the whole puzzle.

You can't say you had a boring year, or a sadder year and compare it to the past years.
You can have a sad day and it's still a beautiful life.

For life to be viewed as beautiful, it does not have to be pretty or happy all the time.

And to be fair, life is a mosaic.
And a ******* hard-to-interpret artwork. And art is meant to be messy, unstable, hard to look at:
but still amazing, beautiful and interesting.

Imagine an artwork, with super easy strokes to define
and colours that are too vibrant to name, would that be still amazing?
Sure it is, still!

But the most beautiful artworks are probably one that poured with a whirlwind of emotions and
thoughts one can't easily decipher — unfathomable, ineffable, and makes one wonder and wander.

To all the goodbyes
I say goodnight
To everyone that dies
I hope it's bright

To everyone;
With a razor
Hand of pills
Tied rope
Dangling keys
Extreme hight below
Finger over a light trigger
Electricity at hand
Open propane tank
Empty plate, with full glass

Stop, think about who you're leaving behind
I know my words aren't going to stop you, but just read
Did you bother to write and leave a note?
Is it worth it then?
Saying you're sorry, knowing you'll leave someone behind?
Stop. Think about why you're doing it
Do you have nobody?
Think about your opportunities that'll fly past
The chance of ever meeting someone?
Did you lose someone?
Think about if you'll actually see them again?
Being bullied?
Fight back, with whatever you have
Life shoved you down?
No, I'm not asking you to get up!
I'm telling you to get your *** into a nap
Think about all the possibilities that might not be
Think of all the opportunities and people in the future
Think of your legacy
Think of anything except the pain
Now balance the pain and everything else
Want to jump? Skyfall
Want to shoot? Paintball and games
Want to hang? Bungee
Want to overdose? Take 10% of it and party
Suffocate in propane gas, or blow up? Cook a nice meal, invite a friend or family. Surround yourself. No friends and family? Find a friend, build a family. Make space cakes
Want to speed wrong side of the road? Speed on the right side of the road and get carried with the wind, do it over again
Want to cut yourself? Cut off the pain and wrong influences
Electricute yourself? Rather save electricity and watch a good movie with friends or family. Have none? Watch a movie alone, play a game online. Make friends, build a family
Want to starve yourself so you can get drunker and finally forget it all, when your liver gives in? Eat a lot more, blow off some steam at the gym and build a body that girls/guys would like, attract them and make new friends. Drink with friends.

I've done and tried all these things and it never worked out
Life had a pleasent surprise and yet I'm depressed and yet I'm suicidal, but I push through. I know you can too!
Push through to that wedding day, or in my case the day I see my Suzuki GSX-R 750 K8 and take my first ride. Create new dreams if the old ones died. Work hard for them. Achieve something
"At least leave a ******* legacy behind" is what my bestfriend, Steph used to say
"You can get out of this alive, but maybe a little ****** up, but anything damaged can be repaired" My bestfriend Josh used to say
"Life can carry you away without what you thought you needed" my bestfriend Divene used to say

Even more quotes from people I've lost in my life, so I ask you just think about it all
Still going through with it? Remember it's a one way ticket
Need some extra help?
269-281-8555
Message me and we'll work through this

let's start with a henna tattoo
work my way to a real one
let's get a cartilage piercing
or maybe get two for fun
read all Shakespeare's plays
and his sonnets before the year ends
write a novel sometime soon
watch every harry potter with friends
see something that's Broadway
read 150 books in a year
have an author sign
a book that's been so very dear
Spend the entire day in bed
or sleep in the family car
in the playhouse out back
in a hammock somewhere bizarre
do something with a love
write a poem for him
slow dance in the rain
and dance away the dim
watch a sunset together
the light slowly appearing
a kiss in the rain
stargaze with day nearing
let's go visit mexico
or Germany, Ireland
let's fly in first class
or helicopter to be grand
see the hollywood sign
or the northern lights
or England or the gum wall
ride in a limo to see the sights
paintball or zip-line
perform a play on stage
try surfing in blue water
or mattress surf, not acting my age
learn to actually skateboard
see a favorite band live
eat German chocolate
run a kilometer or five
get my master's degree
have a chance to paddleboard
finally sing in public
get a guitar to play a chord
or why not have a paint fight
play twister with a mess
walk through a drive through
skinny dip and not fess
put mentos in coke
swim with my clothing on
write in wet concrete
streak across the lawn
tp someone's car
buy a coffee to be kind
smash pie in someone's face
carve initials to remind
so there's my bucket list
spelled out for all to see
the only question is
who would want to join me?

And I wish I can tell you these:

Opening up to each other is one of the bestest way to keep a relationship strong.
I want you to tell me everything, how's your day going, if you're annoyed, if you're tired, if you wanna sleep with me, if you want me to be there at 12am or 3am. If you can't sleep at night, if you need a shoulder to lean on and a shirt to cry on, if you wanna talk about life and how you love coffee so much, talk about how your vape means a lot to you, if you want to shop, if you want to kiss me, if you wanna go somewhere, if you wanna have star gazing, paintball or even boxing, tell me how much you love basketball so much and how good you are in cooking. Tell me about your past, your life. Tell me your dream house, how many kids you want to have, your dream wedding and who's going to be your best man. I'm your best friend, girlfriend, sister, workmate and buddy in everything. Tell me everything you want me to know, what you wanna do or your plans, I will listen, I will stay with you even if you tell me how bad you are, I will be who I am as your gf even with your flaws and imperfections. I will always be here for you, I don't mind staying silent the whole time you talk, as long as you tell me you enjoyed my company. You know, I'm sure you know you mean everything to me. And how thankful I an to God, for giving me the happiness I deserve, YOU.

it treats the paintball injuries of contagious dogs. dry-humps to the sobbing of saint visitation. its sister delivers her own snowball in the binoculars of a man with a limp and a finite supply of plastic lawnmowers. I learn about its town from a poster meant to attract what’s never left. this is where I go to look like I’m here.

OK I get it, you hate it when I write
but relax I have a surprise more like a super prize
throw the axe at the bull's eye, straight to the point I'll give no lies
I'm just lying on the floor, I'm not lying to you, telling the sore truth till my soul dies
_ why would I dye the facts, I'm not gambling but I threw all of my die, maybe this will help me rise
from the dead, instead of being dead alive, falling apart as I strive for mercy from the heavens above the skies
there's levels for evilness I'm at the middle that's what the needle on the meter says, I'm far from the devil's, but I hide in disguise
_ it's Valentine's Day, oh yay, oh my god what do I have to say, umm **** it, that **** is not mine, it's full of gold diggers though I guess it's a mine, they are all minors, all the kids I can't believe my eyes
_ it's a relief to know some of you don't buy this ****, if you buy  a flower you'll be called a coward, I think you can buy potatoe and make a Beautiful thing like French fries
maybe I'm a hate king because as the hate grow you start to get that feeling the one you get when you hurt a toe, when you hear someone talk about their pitiful life, tear up then cries
so here's an advice to all of my allies we need to arise to create a franchise to criticize those who emphasize the need of this day or anyone who thinks likewise, it's time to sanitize this world, so harmonize then synchronize with me, I'd do it myself if my ***** had a bigger size  you can't destroy a tank with a paintball ( I didn't apologize), but don't worry I'll give you my word you'll get lyrical supplies, this whole world is mine to demonize

*so why I'm standing here for,
Right there by your front door
Place a box is it a flower, a bear, dare to come near and that **** will blow and melt your face to the floor*

you know what I don't bear, the ******* red bare bear, who had the right to declare that it's right to compare an animal you catch with a snare to compassion love and care, I can't see the match right there, but **** it if I care, I'd rather watch a soccer match rather than burning my heart on this Love's flare, what destroyed my resort is the flair for a long lasting affair, it's ain't fair ! But forget it it's not about me, my match is no longer lit and I can't go anywhere, but I know non of you give a **** or care, man **** it if she wants a bear, there's a zoo take her there, push her too, down the  stairs, little advice tell her not to stare, the case will be rare if didn't **** her underwear with despair, the craze is  you might not stay a pair but you'll have a great story to share
but I have to say, that there once a day where I had a feeling that helped me not decay and held me up to stay on my way and not go away, and removed the strap off my ability to rap and say what I wanna say up till to day, if I'd to be Eminem she'd be doctor Dre, but know I'm moving from place to place on a dray it's hard to keep your **** in place when there's no side rails, she's a blue Jay and I feel blue everyday,I don't want a part to play in this play called my life ,if I can glue all the parts of my family back I wouldn't feel this way, but on my phone there's pictures of violet bruises that'll stay in my head I can't forget no way, it was a violent day, now I'm trying to burn my heart on this ashtray, I shot but I missed the trey
a fallen angel maybe a devil I didn't care about the danger, I just saw that she's quite clever, I'd just pretend to be a post, tend to be a ghost summon a demon and be his host, whatever it takes I'll pay the cost, just to have a look, said nothing I'd be shook, but satisfied my innermost thoughts, because those were almost burning, roasted like toast, but it's okay now those are buried or lost

so what am I doing here I'm an introvert
Not looking to look up your skirt
I'm a creep but not a pervert
But I have a heart too, just saying to alert

ney I'm not done yet, someone understand what did I say by the way, right attssini, when you see your high school crush u feel the  blood rush and you get that chill that you can't take off, you need to chill and seal the blush, that's nearly love, but I had enough from chasing feelings, cause I'm ain't enough, that's no bluff, if I'd give a stuffed bear I'd use my guts as stuffing to stuff the animal you love , he'd be a coward but still he'll rip your guts, so you won't have the guts to touch, you'll say I'm nuts and leave in a rush. To hell with the love that gave me my blood, I never thought dad was a stud,  that feeling was always the hub of survival, now it's not, I'm here for money but even that is out of my reach , what a luck, so dear love I try not to give a ****, convince myself that I **** even if a had a million bucks, I'm not that buff, and this life is rough I'm not that tough,
So I can't do this I'm just....
But wait it's always me against the odds, even if we're even I'm still odd, you can't be like everyone and be number one on top, I know you don't understand but just nod in agreement, no ones knows me but god, still I'm evil like a demon

The Bedrooms of Thirty-Year-Old Children

“I am looking for a some what tactical bible cover. I would prefer that it have hook and loop some were on it, so I can put moral patches on it.”

-https://www.ar15.com/forums/general/-/135-1549758/

Each tactical gun and each tactical knife
Made in China by tactical slaves
Tactical gear for tactical strife
(Tactical guys to their tactical graves)

Tactical ****** and tactical pen
Tactical chocolate and paintball paint
Tactical everything for wannabe men
Desperate to be whatever they ain’t

Tactical shelters for when it’s raining –

But

They never made Day One of army training

I should of been further then this,
23 with no college 23 with no scholarships
23 with no problems 23 with no honors and little kids.
Little me's just loving it
Little me's just love life...
I gotta dog but not a wife
And Cat but nothing to drive.

I'm ready to live I'm ready to live life,
Make a city or make a basketball courts
Visit a hospital as one of the kids know my name and I see them smilecjustvby I'm there
Head home with a car with two and one kid idk
Or see 2 naked guys waiting for me that leaves in the mornin while I get a DM  from my his friend telling me to come thru and play paintball or something!!
Getting up and having my own pool in the back

this one goes out
to all you habitual symbolphrenics
style monsters invading the me precinct
bow only before your own image
for we are each a TV studio
selling loneliness as a communal experience
find the station that lets you
find all the other stations
or play dumb and ride your rocket cycle
like there's no other traffic
so hey kids let's learn something new
and dine with the revolution
the information revolution you sod
being deaf to the tea kettle not an option
2-D carcass straight to your door
in a two lane blacktop sun baked minute
best haute cousine squealing wheels can buy
have a beer relax put your feet up
recall that consciousness is tuneable
so tune in to my next act which will be
to answer all your pregnant questions
and awaken you to the fairy tale kingdom
hail the King and his syphilis
smelling of chainsaw oil and circus sawdust
make you ***** up your existence tax
with really huge detector molecules
a Macy's Parade of lighter than air daydreams
from whence gallop in a clatter
the harassing Fusiliers of Wrackworm
sputtering judgmental patriarchs
maniquinkind doomed and destroyed
a colorful example of paintball diplomacy
his only safety was the anchovy hunters
were never as numerous as their prey
the indecisive semioticians could
**** with that for hours wink wink
because this is all highly experimental
and nerve wracking inquisitional
your reward for coughing in the theater
did you get the message
wink wink light the fuse and run
because what you don't know can
explode your viscera with surprise
never apologize to or for yourself
pain is not a higher nerve path
touch your finger to your temple
and smile like a Cheshire tabby
whose tuba nesting playpal mice
belch nobly alongside the elephants
the customer can do no wrong

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon

the damage is done, the wound
is gushing with blood.
the pants are
filled
with ***** matter.

the mouth is vomiting
into a ditch at 3am. please god, tell me I matter.

please god,
who are you,
who are you,

touch me,
touch me in my ****,

touch me in my ****.

feel my *****,
feel my *******.
I want to love you. lord my savior, I *** on your face, and you drink it.
my lord
and savior.

death on a cross is like a jelly
sandwich
after dawn.

no one has to cry.

please god.
let me watch the ****** in
2002,
when I was still fragrant, when I still felt good.
when I still played stick games with my friend nick. when I still listened to slipknot's duality
and Marilyn's beautiful people.

I want to be whole.

I want to be a person without the past. the stick in the mud, the last dance at the wedding when everyone is watching.
please help me .


I don't need
a party,
but I need a crowd.

blue tin skies after dawn,
two few to know.

love is like a box of explosives,
you know what you'll get.

paintball in 2006.

where did it all go? when did I get old? when did I lose touch? when did it all start to not matter
?


pave the way forward,
we are here.

I see you,
and I want the best for us.  please, please, please. let me believe in love for once.





once;  like a nova

Waking early. Tired.    
    Today my sons.
      Paintball fun.

Thousands lie in rows, for years,
Brewing with impressionistic tastes,
Making their debuts all the time,

Or are they clinking and rolling out, until
A poster is discoloured down the range, or
Someone's back painted red.

But in honesty, I don't get what you mean here.

Because while
It's true I'm ageing a little slow for my liking,
I'm not sobering up, yet I wasn't drunk to start,
Yes, I'm being a little too selfish,
And I guess I have played paintball before,

You see
I don't seem to need to hit the metaphor,
Or play on words, or wonder,
Any more.

Will I be able to wander as I get older? Either I'll mull myself to senility, or maybe I'll get a hole in my foot.