The last 5 years feel like a numb, confusing blur.
Like I laid myself to sleep for a while.
Like I needed to be dead to the world.

Then one day I suddenly awoke to a longing in my chest.
A feeling I couldn't fight.
A quickening of my breath.

The outside world shone through the cracks and my legs guided me straight outside.
Fresh socks on the grass of spring's early morning dew.
As it soaked through to my feet, I felt alive again.

But who am I now?
And who the hell do I want to be?
What just happened?
And what am I doing here?

I keep blinking to wake up but I'm finally awake.
It feels like I've forgotten everything, I'm trying to remember who I am again.

I've been playing Eurotruck Simulator for 2 days straight.

Mindless driving through virtual country roads.
I've jack-knifed my truck and need to pay the service toll.
Have to deliver this big bag of seed to Hamburg but I'm stuck in the middle of the road.
The traffics piling up and everyone's honking their horns.
This is way too much pressure.

“Don't Worry Baby” By the Beach Boy's plays softly in the background.
But in fact I'm very much worried.
Whether in my online trucking game or the real world it just never seizes.

All I asked for is a day where I'm not incapacitated by my own thoughts.
They're useless, nonsensical pesters that make everything go wrong.

Stupid worry gremlins with bells on their ankles.
The harder you try to ignore them, the louder they love to play.
Until your mind is an orchestra of gremlins beating their feet into your brain.  
It's impossible to get anything done when they're dancing away.

What matters is I'm still trying my best.
I'm leaving the house again, changing my old routines.
I even went out past 7pm.
What a real rebel I'm becoming.

Breaking old boundaries takes time but false 'safety' doesn't serve me anymore.
I sat in the pub last week and finally felt 24.
Maybe I'm a little behind compared to everyone else.
But I managed to save my jack-knifed truck and ship the seed to Hamburg, everyone has their own strengths..
Jack of all trades.
Master of none.
But in Eurotruck Simulator I'm No1.

There's no one who bugs me, irks me and makes me mad.
There's no one who hounds me, pesters me and irritates me.
There's no one who angers me by forgetting special occasions,
or forgetting to call,
or gets unsalted butter rather than salted at the grocers.
Only You.

There's no one who makes me roll my eyes
with his twisted philosophy, illogical excuses and faked innocence.
There's no one who makes me purse my lips in disagreement,
when he comes home from so-called overtime work,
smelling of cigarette smoke and whiskey.
There's no one who makes me bare my teeth with exasperation,
when he doesn't talk when I want him to,
when he seems to not listen when I think he needs to.
Only You.

There's no one else who knows to buy me tulips,
when he's trying to ask for my forgiveness.
There's no one else who sings "Wonderful Tonight" off-key,
when he sees me in my most tattered pajamas,
with my hair standing on end
and my cheeks and neck crawling with rashes.
There's no one who cooks a meaner chicken soup,
when I'm sick and force-feeds it to me in bed.
Only You.

There's no one who kisses me in the sweetest,
most breath-taking way in the park,
in the rain while we're jogging.
There's no one who makes me laugh
with his spot-on impression of my favorite comedian,
while watching a home video on date night,
and sharing a big bowl of buttered popcorn.
There's no one who makes love to me in such a selfless,
most gentle way, making me feel like
I'm the most loved, most special girl in the world.
Only You.

There's nobody else who makes me love him,
who makes me want to keep loving him,
in all his perfection, all his imperfection,
all the things that make him a man.
There's nobody that I am most willing
to brave all the storms with,
nobody I desire to grow old with,
and give all of my self to...
Only You.

It is the same thing that we are told over and over
In all our classes, all our days
For one hundred and eighty days on end.

In math we are told about the Pythagorean theorem and Pathetic Fallacy~~
But some of us still do not know the value of "X".

It is after parents get called from teachers saying that their child is:
hyperactive
easily distracted
unfocused
doesn't do the proper thing
And that their child, who is brilliant, cannot be in a Level One class.

We all have different abilities and thought processes.
Why is it that a class full of individuals is tested by all of the same means?

Exams are the way society tells you your worth.

But it is the same society that:
says abortion is wrong but then looks down on teenage parents
promotes natural beauty but has models flushed with makeup, hair extentions, false lashes, and nails
shows slender people for their weight loss commercial that look like an hour glass already
has pastors that preach charity but own jets and sports cars
has Imams who preach against greed but are all fat
has parents who want their child to get a good education to get a good paying job but hate how rich the neighbors are
is run by governments that preach peace but endorse war
Has colleges who want smarter kids but increase the tuition

What does it mean to "make the mark?"

to the kids who study hard and barely miss the target
to the kids that know what it feels like to be worth that D or that A when a teacher hands back a test
to the kids who are never good enough in their English teacher's eyes
to the kids whose writing is missing key literary techniques or was too informal to be understood

What does it mean to "make the mark?"

to the math teacher who pesters you about trying harder when you can't tell them "X" but can tell them the date of any war
to the science teacher who tells you to know the periodic table and yells in distress of their 'worst student'

We're told everything that we learn we'll use the information again but never do when we walk out the door.

They try to prepair you for the world, but they don't prepair you for life.

always being the second best
not getting the scholarship that you needed to go to college
not getting the solo on your last concert night.

not being able to make the mark

What does it mean to "make the mark?"

As the day dies sun to west slants
my hands water the few potted plants
an evening dawns in melancholic hush
pesters my mood the cawing corvus!

The nose in the air polished jackdaw
can’t fathom why men break nature’s law
wipe out forests root out the green
then on the roof try to grow seedling!

Why at all shrink the men so smart
stretches of wood to build habitat
all the clever brains profound and wise
destroy wastelands to madly urbanize!

The corvus his eyes speak of dark scare
frightened beak caws how is unfair
denuding of trees in insane haste
leaving scarce space to build him a nest!

On a deadly day
Air-locked lungs
Severed air-links
By tyranny of time

Yester beauty lost in pesters
In the travail travel of life
Deeds, deals are doomed
Solo soul slipped out sad
Of static veins, bones and blood
Body is now nobody to anybody

Unlocked fast food counter;
The paradise of parasites
The stray dogs’ dish delight
The flying hawk’s eye-catch
Wholesome diet for the day

Stinking corpse threatened
Endangered epidemics
World worried and buried
The Esquire in a square
Of engraved box in a grave

Soul in hunt of sprouting seeds
Of vibrant hygienic genes
For long sustained body’s succor
Of its own make – sane or sin,
Of heaven’s choicest justice

Deep.
So deep,
The knife slices and dices up her skin.
On her arms and legs. Trying to feel something, anything.
The old scars fade but new ones will soon form whenever she is left alone.
Her mother pesters her with questions,
"What happened dear?"
"Are you alright?"
"How did these get there?"
She brushes it off with an, "I fell." or "It's just a scratch."
She climbs the staircase to her room,
Finds the secret drawer and pulls out her biggest blade.
Sometimes she cuts a little, and sometimes she cuts a lot.
But this time, she aims it at her throat
And cuts as deep as she can.
Slowly watching the blood run down her neck,
Until things start to become fuzzy and dark.
She gives one last cut, deeper than ever before.
And for the first time in a long time, she feels.
Feels pain, but at least that's  something. Anything.
Her body slumps to the floor
And she lets out a whisper,
*"I'm free."

The day we met I completely dismissed you.

I gave the idea no second chances.

You seemed like train wreck that I needed to fix
But I just didnt have the time.

Thats a common trend with me.
Not enough time...

It always ticks and ticks
and annoys and annoys
Like a needy dog that pesters you for attention...

Thats how you make me feel.

On a deadly day
Air-locked lungs
Severed air-links
By tyranny of time

Yester beauty lost in pesters
In the travail travel of life
Deeds, deals are doomed
Solo soul slipped out sad
Of static veins, bones and blood
Body is now nobody to anybody

Unlocked fast food counter;
The paradise of parasites
The stray dogs’ dish delight
The flying hawk’s eye-catch
Wholesome diet for the day

Stinking corpse threatened
Endangered epidemics
World worried and buried
The Esquire in a square
Of engraved box in a grave

Soul in hunt of sprouting seeds
Of vibrant hygienic genes
For long sustained body’s succor
Of its own make – sane or sin,
Of heaven’s choicest justice

On a deadly day
Air-locked lungs
Severed air-links
By tyranny of time

Yester beauty lost in pesters
In the travail travel of life
Deeds, deals are doomed
Solo soul slipped out sad
Of static veins, bones and blood
Body is now nobody to anybody

Unlocked fast food counter;
The paradise of parasites
The stray dogs’ dish delight
The flying hawk’s eye-catch
Wholesome diet for the day

Stinking corpse threatened
Endangered epidemics
World worried and buried
The Esquire in a square
Of engraved box in a grave

Soul in hunt of sprouting seeds
Of vibrant hygienic genes
For long sustained body’s succor
Of its own make – sane or sin,
Of heaven’s choicest justice

My home is a wasteland of cigarette butts and coffee cups
Help in repose for better mornings
Where a bitter taste in my throat lays dormant
And I think alone, in regret of nothing

As fresh *** brews and *** ignite, thumbing my finger ring.
Tracing back words in search for other purpose,
realizing secrets as regrettable burden.
Clear throat for first sip, and light a second cigarette.

It is not insomnia but rather being too bored to sleep.
It is not knowing what to do with your hands
When someone says they love you.
It is wanting to discuss film, art--
Hell, anything, with anyone--
Only to talk yourself down
Before the words escape your throat.
And yes, All the words come from there.
Some guttural utterance only heard for those that care.
That pesters you too.

All the nerves in all the world with all the words,
and there's nothing wrong with them in my head.
Passions intermix and weaken,
with every passing moment of thinking,
So I speak of Russian filmography,
mingle as hands press to small of your back.
In an instant, a stutter, a wide expression.
But my hands were always in my pockets anyway.

"Sometimes the curtains are just blue,"
An old professor told me once
From behind his olive green desk--
In front of a whiteboard that made him look small.
Curled over, I respected him more
For the fact that he knew
Nothing everything has a purpose.

Purpose is as purpose does, "I know I know nothing."
Pretentious is as we may be, sentences full of stuffing.
Like our shirts and puffing chests, teach me like you went to university.
Analyze in caffeinated anxiety every word ever said to me.

the first thing you notice,
is the smell
all of the water just gets recycled
and it gets so *****
you can't see through it
the tunnel smells the worst
where the cars come through
and the laundry station is
I either get told to punch in
or that they don't need me
go to the break room

then maybe a car comes
probably not if it's a Monday
or if it's raining
but suppose one comes anyway
you get told to jump on it
pull it into the tunnel
then run down to the other end to catch it
pulling it onto the lot
you check what kind of a wash it is
if you're lucky
it's just an exterior
but let's be honest
it's probably going to be an ultimate
upholstery coated in dog hair
that the over privileged
WASP
stay at home mother
pesters you to get out
no matter how many times you explain
it isn't store policy
we don't cover dog hair ma'am
maybe her toddler spilled an entire happy meal
into one of the side pockets
you do a ****** job
she'll probably stiff you anyway

you're out on the lot
for hours
just making the same clockwise motions with your hands
over and over again
this can last for hours
then it's back to the break room
where the bosses cut lines of coke
off of the managers table
the place reeks of something
the IRS wouldn't like
you're there from 8 to 7
and you're lucky to get 5 hours on the clock

You get home
and the smell doesn't leave
and the first thing you want
is a drink
or a smoke
preferably both
and you want to sleep
for hours
sleep away the lesser moments
and the bigger one
but you know
you have to wake up at 6:45
to drive back over
and do it all again

We are too much in the world
Of distant sirens, each one racing
To our homes.
The plume of smoke arrests me;
The shoe on the yellow-dotted line
I passed, wondering how one limps home,
Not noticing.
The other night I heard the empty thud
Of flesh and skin and then my cell was vibrating.
I have a message from South Carolina,
FB wants to befriend us;
Twitter assails us;
What's Ap pesters;
E-mail harasses.
We have more messaging orifices
Than a Bell operator,
And hearts beat faster with every siren,
Every baby's cry.
Night shades, ear plugs
And sensory deprivation
Will only heighten our anxiety.
We're kissing urns and spitting ashes.
Our connection falters.

Thinking about you gives me a pit in my stomach.
hitting deep to the core of everything
that pesters, harasses, and eats me up.

holding my head as if somehow that
erases the memories of the agony piercing.
but you, are permanent. Never changing.

Wiping my eyes of everything that is you.
A tear for the laughter and
a tear for the pain.

Flesh of my flesh, you are in my care
Do not dread for filth and froth
Soap and water are your friends this day
As for every day that you are in my thoughts

Flesh of my flesh, be steady, and clutch strong
Do not let the sudden shifts of climate upset you
By pesters of sunbeams and teases of raindrops
May the advantage of garment escort you

Flesh of my flesh, what has gone wrong?
You are turning to be faint and lean each day
Did the accident in the pool have something to do
With why the hue of your vigor is fading away?

Flesh of my flesh, I have feared these times
I am right to say that you are now a cut on my skin
But as more days traverse and hours make dates
My wound became a scar, a reminder of my regrets herein

Flesh of my flesh, I can never bring back
Those times of sweet perfection that we once had
If I could just…No…that won't work too
I am as remorseful now as I am sad

Flesh of my flesh, don't be so stiff on us both
My past is already filled with great anxiety
I would just as be pleased for our hostilities to end
Do your share, now, and find some heartfelt sympathy

Flesh of my flesh, then so it must be?
You have resolved to part ways, and I won't hold back
If that is what you wish then I'm happy for you
The time has come for reality to return to its track

Flesh of my flesh, as you wink a "goodbye"
Do not forget the strong words, the distinct taps, and sights
There is deep roots unearthed and replanted elsewhere in time
May rest find you in darkness, and may peace greet you in light

The view of man.
By jay Cleeve.

So many unanswered questions
Not many care for
Many don't dare for
The answers of our ancestors
We've been taught by a deceptive perspective
But my mind pesters
I'm not gods son
Although it sounds fun
I know the answers
We're natures natural disasters
I evolved from the untold
Yeah Darwin he spoke bold
But his stories lay unsold
For a long time he left them in his own mind
Because he was gods child
Then he lost his child
What kind if a deceiver gives a ten year old child Scarlett fever
Then you question
Christ's deception
Our reception in a dead world


So i self taught as a last resort
made my mind restored
there the sort of facts you'll never find on a black board
i wish for a simple life
One of sacrifice
For our lovers and family's
Where we'd live happily
I'm not saying there's no pain
But we're all the same
Our position on earth for all we're worth
We where natures natural birth
No different from the other brother next to you
Whether we're black or blue
Please release let go and beat the religion outta you
As Charles theories where so true
The origin of species and the decent of man our my bibles
Hell I'm an atheist disciple
I'm happy knowing the truth
Fossils and DNA being my proof
Why are most of you all blind to see
The past of mankind i long to be
The one that belongs to you and me
I don't think you care to know even though it's all on show
It's nice to believe in the tease i guess that a man in robes can impress
Really you'll never know where we all go
But I am a man of science and natures natural defiance
I know what i am and that makes me a man
I'm a hominid
And your the followers of some unholy profiteers
That can't compete with the fact I meet
We've got a whole world of history right at our feet
How can a simple man like me
Understand the simple things that be
When you all share the same history as me
Maybe it's something you evolved to be

control complex
strung tight around the bed posts with nothing around your neck
trapped by the manner of seeing with little review
years it will take to explain to you.
gripped by a man, her thoughts are course with no sifter
to shift her thoughts
to switch their bough's of anxiety
by definition an inner conspiring
of loneliness and obsession.
a generational connection where a father pesters his daughter about why she is the way she is and instead of hearing his desperate curiosity she feels like a first rate atrocity who deserves
to feel nothing.

it whispers, it pesters, it torments
     I brush, it remains
          I heave, it grows
an ache, an age
     I speak, don’t behave
          no eyes, no future
still, I hate Her

it's quite akin to anxiety
the product of crude society
bastardized, perverted piety
leaves you useless, sitting quietly

Be judged for inefficiency
contradicting proficiency
pesters the mind malignantly
wasting time, effortlessly

The emptiness, magnanimous
to further destruction and not less
travels fast, as if poisonous
rules the mind with an iron fist

just goes to show that motive
must be forever be promoted
if a day comes full and bloated
of nothingness, its hopeless

For here exists no escape
no medics to resuscitate
beware its woeful, siren way
when trapped, you surely dead, will lay

small moments weigh heavy as the heartfelt exchanges of the romantic;

the doses of molly he takes repel the bandages from a rose's *****

and vindicate almost every awkward handshake ever pushed as an antic.

although sometimes I wonder whether or not I am merely a chauffeur

or the very passenger sitting beside her--equally clueless where we might end up...

but then again, there are no forbidden silences with her.

the cab ride pesters us with pretty zoetrope views on its window side

and the fare has never been this forgiving for such a distant Shangri-La.

I recall
The thunder that deafened my ears
That called out to my broken heart
I screamed into my pillow trying to challenge you... Trying to be louder than you
Because heartbreak is a baffling whirlwind that will take you to another world
Oh my heart
My broken aching heart...
He left you...
Alone
Screaming
And now I scream my heart out to you
Pouring rain and howling winds
My heart shatters at every thunder strike
Bringing me to reality
It really is over
All that effort...
Every trial I stood through
The wind begs to come inside
Screaming
To escape from the torture outside...
Oh you don't wish to come in here...
There is a battle cry ringing
Shrieking
Squealing
Pleading to be heard
How could he leave?
After all I gave...

I wore black the next day
Mourning him as if he had died
Yet he was well alive in my heart and mind
And he still walked around
Not a care
Never caring about the trails he makes
His ****** trails in my heart
As he slashed at her
Beating her to a pulp...
She tries to beat on...
She gasps and begs him to leave her to be at peace
But he pesters on
He straddles her
Grabs her thigh
Pushes her down as she struggles to get back up...
He kisses her as tears stream down her face
He bites her lips open
And she tries to scream
But she merely whimpers...
There's nothing she can do now
His hands travel lower
And she screams... inside
This isn't tender. This is... Something else

She is
Bruised

He has taken her

Oh crying girl in my heart... Don't let him do this to you...
Don't let him keep this piece of you

O God, dear thunder, lightning and storm outside
Don't dare beg to be here
There is someone broken inside of me
Someone who yearns for his touch again
Broken girl...
You don't want her...

I hear the rain
Drenching the earth
And I,
I stay dry and
Barren
Of his touch.

Is it God or my narcissism
constantly chipping away at my psyche?
Is it God or my narcissism
forever dictating my wrongs and rights?

Am I religious or just conceited?
The question pesters me.
Quite frankly my mind is just depleted.