The real devil is social media
I am one with peace
Peace should be a chant
Everyone needs it
I shouldn't be drinking much
I shouldn't be stealing
But here I am, drunk as **** and talking to my ex girlfriend
My mom is really crazy
What kind of higher power makes her suffer
I'm ashamed
You deserved everything but the best and hopefully an extra large cup full of of hope will fill you up
Hopefully I'm not selfish
I'll believe in God if you cameback honestly
You were my one and only The real devil is social media
I am one with peace
Peace should be a chant
Everyone needs it
I shouldn't be drinking much
I shouldn't be stealing
But here I am, drunk as **** and talking to my ex girlfriend
My mom is really crazy
What kind of higher power makes her suffer
I'm ashamed
You deserved everything but the best and hopefully an extra large cup full of of hope will fill you up
Hopefully I'm not selfish
I'll believe in God if you cameback honestly
You were my one and only
The real devil is social media
I am one with peace
Peace should be a chant
Everyone needs it
I shouldn't be drinking much
I shouldn't be stealing
But here I am, drunk as **** and talking to my ex girlfriend
My mom is really crazy
What kind of higher power makes her suffer
I'm ashamed
You deserved everything but the best and hopefully an extra large cup full of of hope will fill you up
Hopefully I'm not selfish
I'll believe in God if you cameback honestly
You were my one and only
I might have said that twice
Nvm I'm fulfilled what am I even bringing up
****
So what if I have the world in my hands
I don't have you
Oh wait
I'm supposed to be forgetting
And I'll pray to the God my mom prays to unt the day you're mine again
DID I JUST REPEAT A LOT OF THAT

I've been writing poetry for about thirty years now.
I have notebooks upon note books filled with many thoughts, storys and so called lessons.
Scribbles collected on stationery, box topps and restaurant napkins.
Many lost or thrown away, as I used the napkins to blow my nose when I had the flu.
I wrote poetry in my younger years
In 24 hour diners and when I wasn't to hung over to go to school.
Sadly though most of those lessons are gone to be forgotten, in dump grounds of Parma Ohio  Set in the city's ground engraved on old desk topps and tables are these thoughts. Slowly fading, like my mind, slowly detererating more each year.
I've been writing poetry for about thirty years now. I haven't accomplished a thing accept carpal tunnel and a repetive mind. Collecting and capturing my thoughts really made me see how little I think, how repetitive I really am.
Collecting and capturing these thoughts, prose and so called lessons, really accomplished not a thing.
A bunch of notebooks, loose papers and dried out pens.
Maybe there is an accomplishment from this mess, maybe it has helped me see I am a hoarder and can't let go of any of my thoughts.
Although they are all the same, just rearranged according to the day, I still think they mean something. "If something was nothing, I would be rich."
Glancing back at thirty years of beer soaked ******* and coffee stained sobbing really gives one a new perspective of how deranged life really can be.
So I'll pack another 20 sticks,  smoke faster then I breathe and write a new "profound" thought from this epiphany .

I miss the hard wooden floor beneath my
  bare feet
I miss the flying and fleeting moments of
  improved steps
I miss the unknown becoming known
I miss the repetive count that revealed the
  unexpected
I miss the music and the rapid heart beats
I miss the sweat and the blood and the
  aches and the pains and the heartbreak
    and failures and triumphs and success
I miss the stage and the stage freight
I miss the wings and the spot light
I miss the pitch black silence
I miss the roar of the crowd
I miss the life and the love and the
  feet that use to be mine
When I was part of the dance

I dont wanna do this anymore I have zero desire to live.
To feel what im feeling.
To go on with zero worth nor purpose. Robbed of being a mom to my kid.
No rhyme or reason to the madness that has become and that is my "life" .
No longer believing god created me to be a passionate and loving, woman mother and wife.
My body hurts, my head throbs, my heart bleeds, & my soul aches. My breath is taken. Gone.
Either quick short cut off repetitive gasps....or long deep sarrowful sighs....**** near every couple of minutes that pass.
That's not breathing at all....that feels more like suffocating... disinigrating...
Here me loud and clear.
This darkened circus I speak of, is far from imaginary.
It creates, defines, & overrides my reality.
Slowly sinking.
Hereing nothing.
But the taunting click of the clock ticking.
I fantasize of my bleeding...without stopping. Untill there be no more to keep dripping.
Im exhausted and warn down.... By this repetive war im always fighting.
They want to know of who is the enemy that sends me running.
Interesting..
The enemy?...
Sense the beginning of time, my greatest enemy has always been.. ME..and only me.
True ******* pitiful story.
The same sad story,
About how nobody gets me.
Why won't they listen?
Open thier eyes, and even attempt to ******* see!
But iv3 become a ticking time bomb.
The list of times I've tried and failed has gotten so long.
Too long.
Even when i feel strong..it all still goes so wrong.
Stringing me along.
For the ride in which leads & ends to a land of nowhere.
To the bottom of the darkest despair.
Where all the wounds the cuts and the bruises are beyond repair.
Yet tell yourself as you look at me and pretend to care...
That all this just isnt fair.
But you have no idea the mass amounts of pain trauma and suffering...its seems as if I were created to bare.
Its crazy how I manage to **** up but yet I still manage to learn.
I somehow manage to take 3 or 4 steps in the "right"direction..
And even see the rickety tables begin to strengthen and turn.
Relationships restore slowly,
Opportunities arise .
My pieces start to pull back together.
No longer drowning in the tears that fill my eyes.

But wait....what's that? ...
oh yea,
It's the same old same old fanfuckingtastic, never ending, experienced more than one time,  demise...
That builds itself into ultimate failures... fueled and fed by a web of the same old ******* lies.
It's a vicious cycle.
Turns out this isnt really a "life".
Not at all.
This... is the never ending cluster **** of the continuous rise and FALL