The same song looping over and over…
The same suicidal thoughts torturing my sanity…
Repeats accruing on infinite piles of ruble,
Vigorously fighting these thoughts,
These demons of mentality,
A constant cartwheel of emotion…
Always racing…
Not ceasing for a mere second…
Forcing the pill in my mouth,
And then another,
And another…
The only mental painkiller is death…
I feel numb,
Darkness seeps into my vision…
Blurring reality…
The Pain is going away…
I feel alive as I feel myself die…
Emergency Medical Squads break the door down…
I sit there,
Watching them cycle electricity into my body as I blindly stare,
Eyes not moving,
Weak,
You never came.



I want to tell you I love you until it becomes white noise…
Always knowing I love you,
Never doubting yourself again…
I want to make love until we are one…
My body and yours…
Sharing the night, and day…
Filling senses with pleasure and love…
I want to hold you until you are weightless…
A feather in my arms…
Carry you up to a safe place on a dark night…
I want to love you forever…
I want to love you till stone itself evaporates into the air as it boils underneath the red giant sun…
I want to love you when the Universe rebirths or collapses…
I want to love you when the bell tolls,
The bell does not mark the end,
It will never end,
I will love you always,
Forever,
Not stopping even for a supernova…



No matter how lovely, how vivid, how colorful the painting…
Toxic fumes are given off,
The closer you look the more cracks and flaws you’ll find…
No matter how soft the wood, how elaborate the carving,
You can’t even begin to feel all the splinters…
All the cuts,
The closer you get the deeper the grooves…
This rusty drain has grown clogged of emotion and dust…
Wonderful you say…
But that is just for now,
Today.
My past is dark, dead, rotten,
Who knows if the future will be any different.
Today I have a moment of peace,
You,
A bright blue gem shining in the darkness,
So pure it becomes it’s own light-source,
Echoing beauty throughout the blackness,
Illuminating me,
True Commitment,
Warm and sweet Love,
Unquestionable Trust,
Seraphic Beauty,
Everything I need…
I sit here questioning these words…
Thinking of the purest way to put them,
But emotion is not pure,
It’s *****, rough, and raged,
But when I talk to you that emotion turns into something different,
It turns into satisfying warmth that runs through my body…
The past evaporates into the air,
Dispersing and losing its importance,
You are my future,
Not the past.

As President Vladimir Putin's longtime spokesman Dmitry Peskov wed Olympic figure skating champion Tatyana Navka this weekend in a glitzy seaside ceremony, a multimillion-ruble watch spotted on the groom's wrist sparked a media frenzy.

The ceremony was held in the Olympic host city of Sochi at the ultra-luxurious Rodina (Motherland) Hotel, the entirety of which was reserved for Peskov and Navka's hundreds of celebrity guests.

In July, the bride-to-be said in an interview with Tatler magazine that Putin had been among the invited guests. By Sunday it remained unclear whether he had attended.

On the eve of the wedding, local news sites reported that guests from the three nearby hotels had been relocated in order to ensure security.

"All the beaches [nearby] will be guarded. Today they began to evict guests from three neighboring hotels. They will be given different accommodations for three days and will be able to return after the wedding," an unnamed employee of the Rodina hotel was cited as saying Friday by local news site Bloknot.

The morning after the nuptials, two photos quickly dominated Russian headlines: a photo of Peskov and Navka kissing after being pronounced man and wife, and a photo of the official wearing a watch that — according to opposition leader Alexei Navalny — was worth some $620,000.

Navalny claimed in an irate blog post Sunday that it would have been impossible for Peskov to have paid for the watch on his official salary, which the activist pegged at about 9 million rubles ($146,000) annually.

Peskov was quick to defend himself, telling the RBC news agency that the watch had been a wedding gift from his bride, who has become a popular television personality since winning Olympic gold in 2006. But bloggers found photos of him wearing it several months ago in the Instagram account of his daughter Yelizaveta Peskova, news site Meduza reported.

Meanwhile, former federal environmental inspector Oleg Mitvol, who was among the glitterati in attendance, told tabloid Moskovsky Komsomolets that the whole affair had been an elaborate ruse.

According to Mitvol, Peskov borrowed the watch from one of his well-heeled guests in a conscious effort to toy with the media and perpetuate a baseless sensation.

Rumors about Peskov's relationship with Navka have provided ample Russian tabloid fodder since 2012, when he divorced his second wife Yekaterina, The Moscow Times reported last month.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses

I don't see memories
or predict the future
I can't tell you what has happen or will happen
I see only what is
I see the scars of the world
and ponder what has happened
I see what exist, and the aftermath that it is
I see the rocks erode, and tides hide their knifes
I see ripples across peoples flesh, and the formations made
I do not cringe at the pain, but realize that it has helped us grow
I see buildings, but I don't, because now I see the ruble
I see rocks, but I don't, because I see the rise of a city
I see from the rise of this city the rise of a nation
from this nation the rise of the people
and from the people I see all else I could see before
I see prosperity, devotion, familiarity, and the ambition from before
I see from the rise also the fall
I see the sun come up with the blinding light, and then I look away
because when that beauty falls and the moon shall reign
I will cease to see what I came to know
I will see, but I don't, the scars of any other any more
I will see, but I don't, for the windows have been shut to that world
as my own pain grows so big to bind my eyes closed
as my eyes closed and as my heart was swallowed whole
Pain will lead to insanity, and the need to free myself from it
from the memories I have built I will find myself
and with that found, I will scar myself
to know that I too will rebuild

time is money
because its current, see?
I would pay you or get payback
but i dont have time currently
i would settle my debts without dollars and cents
it makes no sense
that no one is with me right now

I might rail, might take the wrong road
might, fail, to hear the morse code
throw pennies on the tracks and hope to make a change
flip switches to trick attentions
i guess i may have another track intended
may be making people notice only things im okay with them not missin
maybe give them my name and not much else,
pass by and remember that train kids dont need much help
(they could always help themselves)

but lets get real

i could turn a dollar into more
change if a quarter was worth for names
asked from people,
stories, i could give them two
for each way
life has treated them like it's treated you
i could feed them once with no fast food
in sight, I, could
invest, gamble, roll the dice
and expect more than crap when i
first, not second, give them even a second of my life

disregard my self inflicted fun,
forget my little ticks and triggers, and tricks ive rendered,
signifigant
lay down my hands, they quiver, and sweat, im shivering,
im not serious enough to hold a gun to
my own head, not hungry enough to
make someone else eat lead

i could help find hope where its lost because the truth there is lacking
speak life in the streets where people are cracking
and stumbling home to slum thrones,
garbage cans the only thing theyve got to sit on,
to **** in,
their pillows only hard times and peoples harsh tones,
dreams gone, face down, can only see grime and cobblestones
shaped like the next **** day
and moving on
again,
less than a fox theyve got no hole,
but we all act like they just shoudlve known
better, than to set out on their own,
like we're less broken and more whole

we should speak hope,
but no.

it might rain, we might get soaked
undoubtedly there will be pain,
and there's never enough soap,when we
shake the hands of those hobos

we are tired of looking for something different with the same hints,
tired of looking for new colors with different hues
theyre still the same people, must be the same clues, ignore them,
theyre even all wearing ruined clothes,
they havent sobered up or dried out,
theyre worth about  as much dryer lint
you want to argue?
okay, no. ****.
thats what you meant.


when it comes to whats current, whats common
we say why not stay soaking wet
why not flow with the currents, and sink to the bottom,
well, as you wish,
forget change, we'll throw ours in fountains when we visit malls
i was there yesterday, it didnt cost me a thing.

we say
why not remember
that money more often than not brings rage and riches, rags on people til they need stitches
spikes need and hunger and breeds unscratched itches,
but it can pay for needles and
women lay on their back for a ruble,
a nickel, swallow the bitter truth just like...well... um
let's just say
not one of us cares about em

sadly i think it's us whove lost our scruples,
is that what theyre calling it nowadays?

why not scratch them anyway?
why not always wear the trends that fade?
become the thing that fades, to gray?
away...
why not say
okay?

In empty pages and stark contrast the storm chased away the weak now alone I stand.
The hero a pawn truth cast aside for others cause .
We embrace solutions where  no problems exist.

May the colors run red from forgotten cause and history be erased for the sake of all that must be forever mundane.

I wish only to drag you to the depths and leave you to linger where nothing but a child's logic can remain
In spider webs we threw are thoughts now tangled the words left to wither in passing days.

May we dance in empty halls to illuminate the shadows and create the ghosts for others to place there hopes of what never shall be again.

To silence the voice is but closing the chapter  to spite the clear view .
Nothing stands a statue for the promise of tomorrows decay and the ******* will parade there ignorance as the simple minded spread a plague to which we are losing this battle.

I write for no one to read and all to judge.
Where's the laughter now the jester  is asked in ruins of a kingdom now simply reduced to ruble.

I remember what you will never taste and you may judge but waters tasted pure beats the stolen verses and burrowed lines of a time I no longer care to understand.


And Time passed me as it will pass you just the same .

May the silence remind you of that which never was to be.

We all will know this place someday.

elephants stomping on my head
laugh as they draw blood
fragmented ideals scatter in the wind
as trampled dreams mix with dust

cemented in 'supposed to'
hiding behind other people's 'shoulds'
jackhammer disappointment
crushes bones with broken boundaries

play me a song
to make it look pretty
and I'll pretend to dance
with you in foggy yesterday's

karaoke soundtracks
to a stranger's tears
that leave the heart blind
tripping acid just to see in forgotten colors

breathing bacteria
from the soles of shoes
wiped on my forehead
as they said, 'hello'

a mosaic of skull puzzles
grouted in the remnants of the ****
left behind as everyone
just walks away

shadows smell clean in dark corners
where colors are left to die
in clouds of expectation
leaving truth buried in the ruble

...of who they thought I was

Honey lets drink the nectar of downtrodden ancient gods
until your limbs fall to ruble
like the temple of their lost worshipers.
Hold loosely to my numb hand as we loose our minds
in the fog rolling through our heads.

Let's escape.

All the legions marching through our veins,
doomed to death and resurrection,
oh how familiar we will be with that destiny
having practiced so many times.
When that fate reaches our time,
and we melt once more,
busts of ink onto the page in blissful atrophy.

The Unpleasant breeze welcomes Lakunle
Invites the harsh winds to him Unluckily
He shrugs repeatedly accepting fate
Mosquito bites and the next day's date
Wakes him up to ruble again in pain
confused about the little he has to gain
Aiyetoro

He his challenges by is toothless smile
to turn the hands of time and set a mile
a mile of records that will break the chains
The poverty chains of which he grew with on these plains
trying to understand the Life he has
going to sleep every night with an empty stomach with gas
empty gas.........
Aiyetoro

The journey began
He ran
Away from home
To find a new zone of his own
picked by a wanderer
they wandered together
He still wonders what happened to Wanda
He flew to Rwanda
He went back to Aiyetoro

The empty results
The wasted years
The Unanswered Questions
The Grey Hairs
The Recklessness
The Life of Aiyetoro

Nothing moves.
My house is quiet.
The universe is in a whirlwind.
My mind has been swept up with the ruble.
Everyone is sleeping, drifting in a parallel existence.
Where are they?
I'm stuck in reality. Alone. In the dark.
But I am not isolated.
Someone must be haunting me.
Someone's parallel existence is seeping into my reality.
I'm not alone.
I'm surrounded by your subconscious thoughts.
They're scary.

You, my love
Are my everything
My heaven in hell
My diamond in the ruble
My star in the night sky
I love you
Your the only one for me
The one I love
The one I cherish
I'll take your burdens
And make them my own
Make your problems mine
Love your child as my own
I already love her as my own
Your the camo to my stand
The bullet to my gun
The doe to my buck
Our true country love
The greatest
The strongest
The truest
Of all

I'd be a butterfly,
For Heaven's sake.
The kind that Noah forgot to take.
But still survived The Flood...
In your eyes.
I'd build a boat.
Out of your ribcage,
To set the birds free.
You heard me!
Butterflies?
**** butterflies,
I got birds inside me.
No.
What I have to say,
comes from the rip chord
of my razor blades.
Waiting my whole life
for that rubber band
to snap back.

Thank God for my destruction.
Thank God for my ruble.
Because tree's
grow out of the sides
of stone cold mountains.
That have been blown up
by the rough hands
of people mining for gold.

And people set forest fires
on purpose.
To get rid of the dead stuff.
So new things can grow.
And Sometimes.
I pick the plants.
Just to see how much dead stuff
I can accumulate,
before I set myself on fire.
And when I do,
I swear to God.
I'll be an empty notebook.
So you can cover me with lines.
The good kind.
That come from your pencil.
Cause we don't have to roll up
dollar bills
to see the moon, anymore.

Matt turned off the television in hopes peace would present its self in the shadows clinging to the silence of the living-room. He closed his eyes, filling his lungs, grasping that moment desiring to hold it prisoner.

Nope, no use, there it is rising again.

Matt soaked in the fury that slowly brewed into wrath savoring the delicate temper pulsing in his heart. He began to enjoy  himself entertaining all the things he could do to make Eve regret ever messing with his head. Matt watch scenario after scenario trading smirks of pleasure with each one. He welcomed them to appear, fade, then reappear, each one bringing a mending sliver of an antidote to his heartache. Sams crying followed by Eve's echo'd pain slapped Matt's plotting revenge leaving his heartache to thrive. Instinctively he felt the brief urge to know what was happening. He shook his head refusing to go to her.

Why should i give a ****? She doesn't.

Several minutes later Eve appeared from the bedroom holding Sam. This time he met her at eye level waiting to see if she would offer an explanation or sign of regret. Eve's face failed to demonstrate any emotion that might have laid beneath. She held her sight steady on her path passing refusing to look his way til she was gone from his view. Every scenario Matt had planned collided crashing against one another til they were just ruble being sweep away by his sadness. Without permission his emotions flooded spilling out, each tear represented a different one. He stood then paced from one end of the room to the next. He opened the front door needing fresh air to cool his head. He blinked through blurry tears then quickly closed the front door when the cream colored Cadillac came into focus. Wiping his tear he peered out the window. He recognized Amanda sitting in the front passenger seat sobbing uncontrollably. Matt didn't need to see the driver to know who he was. Jeff was never far behind Jake.

Jake and Jeff, ******* *******, always together.

He stepped away from the window and with a moments thought headed to his room. As he approached his bedroom door he could hear Julie, Jake, Eve and Sam from behind it. He walk through the door way looking from Julie to Jake before sitting down on his bed. Jake laughed sending Matt into his own life altering path. Left there for safe keeping Matt pulled out a Budweiser from between his mattress. He knew he had a probation appointment the next day that would result in a ***** UA, but that was the point. He didn't give a ****.

i will never forget,
always regret,
and wish we never met.
you were nothing but trouble,
and left nothing besides ruble.
you were always so mean,
and never wanted to be seen,
with me.
why didn't i see,
then, that you weren't any good?
i guess i never fully understood,
how much trouble you were, until now,
but i will no longer let you bring me down.

(a.b)

I feel like I'm sinking
And blinking is not enough to relieve my eyes from what I'm seeing
Your love was deceiving
******* out all of my feelings
Leaving me bleeding
Retreating back to my cave of useless meaning
Thinking you were different
Only to find out
That you were just like the rest
I'm left a mess
You try to rebuild the walls around your heart
Can't let people get past the start
Or make it to the finish
I'm finished
Sitting there doing the dishes
Thinking about why you left me there
In the summer air
You acted like you were scared to lose me
Turns out you did nothing but bruise me
Shattering my soul
Then stepping on all the broken pieces
Turning them into dust
Dust to ashes
But in all this madness
I'm reborn
Stronger than the storm
I try my best to smile right in front of you
So you know I got over the **** you put me through
You told me I wasn't good enough
So I walk around this life thinking I'm not good enough
So you learn to shield your heart
Shield your scars
Hoping that the next person who comes along
Doesn't destroy what you've built
But you can't help but tear it down yourself
Just so you can feel something
Then you stand beside the ruble of what's left
And wonder if it was worth it
You've jumped out of the plane
Pulled the chord
And hope that your parachute opens
You trust
You take risks
You give up everything
And yet at the end of the day
You spend your time building up your walls
With nothing but a secret passage way
Hidden where no one expects
The only way to your heart

I’m not sure if I’m fixable. i feel hollow and ill fall over crumble into ruble. while the picture isn’t perfect its a start of a piece art. sometimes the world ***** and **** when its bad and it makes you mad and you’ve had too much **** thrown your way pen and paper come to play. the pen may write the words but remember excalibur is only a sword and without a grip on the handle it can fight no foe and win no war. i feel down and i want to tag out in the last round or take a dive in round five but **** it pain is on my brain and with this much i can take a little more. I’m not sure if I’m fixable but then again nobody else in the discount section is whole anyways right?

For the last five hundred years, posh “society,” is where the wealthiest and most influential people in the world mingled, inter-married and conducted business. If you’ve ever watched “Downton Abbey”, “The Gilded Age” or even “Crazy Rich Asians” you’ll know what I mean.

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs - a psychological pyramid that describes human fulfillment - states that part of our human nature (once your basic needs are met) is the desire to attain social position. Having mere wealth is just not enough once you are in the top levels of achievement.

In the 1970’s Arab money started pouring into the west. Arab petro-dollars bought swaths of land in the UK, in London and New York. The Arabs dazzled everyone with their wealth and bling but they never penetrated posh society.

Then in the 90s the second, Asian wave, of new wealth washed eastward and they had a bit more success in society. But starting about 20 years after the fall of the Soviet Union, Russians started coming to the west with new money to invest - in the UK, in particular.

Russia became the billionaire capital of the world, oligarchs were everywhere buying anything not nailed down and eventually trying to insinuate themselves into posh “society”. Tatler (THE magazine of society) even began publishing a Russian version. If you were a wealthy Russian, you were moving up. By 2022, they weren’t too far from the edge of REAL success.

That’s what evaporated three weeks ago - with the invasion of Ukraine - Russia’s luxury infrastructure and their hopes of acceptance into posh society. Gucci, Chanel, Hermès, Dior, Apple and Tatler (just to name a few luxury brands) have left Russia to rot. If you’re Russian now, the chances of being admitted into posh society are gone for the next 20 years - at least.

You may say “so what?” Well, one way a dictator holds onto power is through mercantile largess. The granting of rights within the Russian sphere of influence - to control and distribute goods and services - is how oligarchs are created. The support of these oligarchs is important and transactional.

A man with a 100-million dollar yacht - looking at what chunks of their wealth may well be confiscated in the west - or lost to the Ruble’s collapse - could easily offer life-changing wealth to any henchman willing to end Putin one way or another.

Will this happen? I don’t know. But this is the system they’ve set up for themselves.

Darling, you're confusing. Like a puzzle that can't be solved.
You remind me of a book that hasn't been read. The pages only skimmed, touched by rough fingers, sometimes tearing your fragile pages.
I want to immerse myself in your words. I want to tear them apart, dissect them so I can see what's underneath. I want to be a part of the story you have yet to finish.
Im drawn to you like the morning tide.
I would love to explore the depths of your existence, if only you were to let me. Even just for a quick moment.
I can feel your insecurities, the ones hidden in the depths of your pages. I know them all too well, like they are my own.
Won't you let me break down your walls, explore the world of your subconscious thoughts.
Let me in, please?
I showed you the heart I wear on my sleeve. I gave you the pen, invited you to help finish the novel that hasn't been published.
I want to show you what its like, show you that you aren't alone.
Let me be the one to help knock down the temple walls you cling to so dearly.
If you could only see what I do.
I want to become a part of your world. Immerse myself in the depths of your existence.
Are you ready?
I want to break you down, rip apart the images you have created. I want to see you totally exposed. I'll stand with you, I'll show you my skeleton. Let me be the one that helps paint the walls of your psyche.
Do the same for me.
Tear me down, rip me to shreds. Shine a light in the darkest corners of my being.
We will rebuild ourselves. Refurbish  old images. Bit by bit, using scrapes from our ruble. We can create a world that is for us. Parts of us, mixed together, securing the infrastructure.
Let me be the only light to shine in your temple. Let me mend the pages that were torn by careless fingers.
I want to melt, my colors bleeding into yours. Illuminate our souls with the fire we sparked together.
Do you trust me?
Will you take my hand? Will you allow me to catch you incase you slip? I won't let you trip over the liter left behind by our pasts.
Leap with me, dive into the world we create. We can fall together.
What do you say?
I've given you the key to my pages, the pen to write your words down.
Will you do the same?
Hand me your key, I'll show you what its like. Remind you how it feels when my pen touches the pages of your soul.
Give me your love, your heart, your life.
I'll handle it with care.

The World lays its exaggerated, broken illusions of who I'm supposed to be
on the weary waves of my brain. I find myself torn between
my superfluous existence and the struggle of a mind craving tranquility.

The World lifted the veil and I can see the nightmare
of what we subjectively define as reality being poured into glasses,
we drink it to quench our thirst, polluting the magnanimous beauty
of our holy souls.

The World whispers its ***** secrets into me,
I no longer see what I want to see,
instead I float with the current, swept with the rest of similarly confused souls,
ready to merge into the sea of Self Loathing and Misery.

The World no longer paints my dreams in colours, they are no longer relevant,
everything is black and white just to further spite my confusion.
Dichotomy is the only answer
to the myriad of questions flooding my curiosity.

The World tells me I'm worthless and I am.
I accept your gentle embrace,
I revel in my own meaninglessness, a nobody screaming to no one.
I will never amount to anything and my life is no more
than a grain of sand in your vast desert.

The World tells me I no longer matter, I don't.
My gray matter is only a chunk of rotting flesh waiting
to be embraced by your mercy, death.
Even these abstract ideas, thrown around in filigree don't matter,
after all they only perpetuate the illusion of me.

The World I am no longer myself and I believe it.
I am the product of your words, the spitting image of your broken physique,
whenever I look in the mirror I see you.
None of these thoughts are mine, they're all yours, beaten into me
over a century, thousands of years  of evolution and here I stand
complete in your image.

The World tells me to get perspective so I do.
I see myself as a caricature, hunched over these blank pages
pretending I know what I'm writing about.
A heavy sigh leaves my body and  I can't help but laugh at my own ridiculous, petty  self.
I take a step further back and I watch myself watching myself,
One idiot looking at the first one, laughing. I turn my head and there is an infinity
of 'myself'', all of them cracking up.
It's pathetic because I am the one
drowning in my own mediocrity
while I find myself laughing to infinity.
Perspective my ***.

Hey World, I'm writing this super poem for you.

I'm writing this super poem with my life, everyday when I go to work
and 'pick' my dreams away.

I'm writing this super poem with an exaggerated sense of importance
because you are all so important to me.

I'm writing this super poem with super ink and super time because
clearly, absolutely, surely, convincingly I spend every nano second
worshiping your infinite grace and surreal qualities.

I'm writing this poem with super confusion because the fusion
of your muse with my poetics can only scramble together
stubs of rhyme and rhythm, repetition comes naturally
when you teach me that empathy means sympathy for the Machine.

I'm writing this super poem to praise your ultimate super creation, the Machine.


Machine, whose arms are molded to lovingly wrap themselves around me.
The right arm, religion and school strips me bare until I'm left servient,
ready to praise the left one, politics and consumerism.

Machine, whose eyes are never closed, gaze into the vastness of our beings
and swallow the forests of our souls. They are always on the look for more,
always vigilant and never ever ever satisfied.

Machine, whose arteries are the railroads, roads,
infested with locomotives, cars speeding towards their own meaningless end,
blowing and honking their horns
for they can't see through the thick veil of oozing smog.

Machine, whose veins are the internet, complex networks of web
trapping millions of disillusioned shards as they desperately try
to define their own humanity.

Machine, whose brain is capital. The almighty dollar, euro, pound, yen, ruble,
all rushing towards banks to ****, sweat, ***, ******,
birthing interest, famine, debt and helplessness.

Machine, whose soul is war, greedily consuming lives
to satisfy the eyes, arteries, veins and  the brain.
It's all in vain when death becomes a statistician, tragedy is numbed by the number
and the never ending slumber continues.

Machine, whose everything became my everything,
I can only find myself at ease when I please
with the entirety of my being.


I'm writing this super poem under the shades of a beat generation
because I find it resonates well with my vibrations
and I'm crawling, crawling, crawling towards your acceptance,
clawing, clawing, clawing through everything I am.

Hey World, I'm writing this super poem because I am tired,
beaten, broken by the endless charades you create
while I try to melt into the Sun.

Sometimes it's like no time has passed since she showed up in my life.
To imagine that I would fall victim to her mesmerizing spell...Again.
To think I was convinced she would be the answer to all of my problems.
To think I fooled myself into thinking I could handle her storm, not to lose control.
How could I have been so blind?
A wolf in sheep's clothing.
My Siren in the form of a drug, a foil, a needle.
Everything I loved and everything I hate.
Such an easy mistake.
An easy escape.
A  cowards answer.
Again I fell victim to her double edged sword.
Left to pick up and rebuild from the ruble, left after her storm.

You have broken me
Every part
Of my lonely heart
Has been shattered
In millions of pieces
On the floor
I let you break down my walls
Crawl into my mind
And see all the dark parts
I was so scared to let anyone see
But you
You crept in to see the real me
Apparently you didn't like
Everything you were bound to see
And you left
With the door wide open
My walls broken down with bulldozers
Left me in the ruble of the crash
Unbearable and broken

A cluttered space and a quickly approaching departure brings silence.
Chords wrap around my gut.
Anger swelling in the belly of my being.
My bones squeak as I tighten my muscles and bite my lip to keep this quiet.
A train passes.
My heart beats in my neck.
My chest is tight.
I squirm a bit and try to shake this feeling out of me.
It lingers in the tips of my fingers and toes.
God knows I'm going to fall apart.
Like ruble.
I will crumble.
But that can wait until tomorrow.
Tonight, we drink and dance.
On top of hotel beds, we bounce and say we're sorry.
Goodbye is too close to fight.
I'm rusting.
Turning a ***** orange and breathing iron.
There's a light that comes in through a boarded up window.
It reminds me that there is beauty in this chaos.
It reminds me that you are beautiful even when you drive me ******* crazy.

When it struck
The world shook
Glass shattered everywhere
Each shard mirroring the vast destruction
Buildings crumbled into piles of ruble
Painting the blue sky with thick,  grey smoke
The ever luminous Sun paled
Now but a glowing ember
Ending this world as we knew it...
When it struck
The world shook
A sweet wind blew
It blew until the suffocating canopy of smoke was no more
Magnificent trees bloomed from the debris
The bits of glass flew into the sky like stars
Making eternity their home
The Sun burst anew
Welcome rays encompass the atmosphere
It's warmth making love to my spirit
Something wondrous happened here
Love...
And when it struck...
The world shook.

buried underneath  the piles of ruble
it took just a deeper look
just to see
me

not as a boyfriend, lover, best friend or other
not to see the lonesome heart or  son or brother
a deeper look to see
me
i am of no other
trials and mishaps did not ****
so  they only showed my strengths
i have not had my fill

a deeper look
showed a heart
struggle
a life
love beyond all reasonable means
it showed me........ me


a deeper look
what i have been searching for
was ........
me

we judge books by their covers
we are judged by our covers
we take personality tests
because we don't know who we are
we want to know
we wish to belong
we build up our walls
just to have them crumble
and burry us in the ruble
emotions run high
caring too much
or not enough
our words fly without a thought
embedding themselves like thorns under skin
red fingerprints
we want to grow up
so we are not looked down on
we want to escape our thoughts
so they don't consume us
cut us open
bleed us dry

You consume my entire life
Your smile is that of the sun,
It brightens my day, and makes me feel warm.
Your eyes are the cool lake that I want to dive into.
Your embrace makes me feel protected and safe.
Yet, your cold words leave me up all night.
Your cold shoulder freezes me to my core.
You tear me down until I'm reduced to ruble, just to build me back up again.
You are the vast ocean, and I, a tiny ship.
And I'm drowning in you.

I am from a recovered city,
From ruble and nothing to save.
I am from a childhood under the stars
(Wondering, broken, it's hard like concrete.)
I am from middle city of Joplin
the disaster
whose cries I heard I remember as if my own.
Im from joy and happiness,
From laughter and love.
I'm from the Crabb family and the Crabby dad of mine,
From doubt and loneliness
I'm from a hole with a shovel and trying to find a way out.
I'm from worry and afraid, confused and scared,
From the rumors saying I can't do it
To the stomach saying I can.
Under my smiles and laughter was a cry for help,
A thought to go for my dreams.
I am from the ashes,
Facing my fears before I can't do it
Im rising from the ashes.