trying to make a rhyme in time
before my feeling lock me out

trying to find the time to write it down
when I really just want to drown it out

I try,
I know men don't cry,
but little boys do
I have a bit of both I guess
but guess what one I use

thighs that remind me
of a drunk man drawing
on a scratchboard
with a knife

strifes break out between parts of my mind
tearing me apart from the inside

now,
what pride?

I'm whats left
if you take away all the right
and leave all the wrong


I'm the awkward hello
and the silent goodbye
did you hear me whisper
oh wait
no one heard
or maybe no one cared
I'm not ready
but I am prepared  
I don't belong here

goodbye

I am a crude crayon drawing. Hastily put together with no consideration for any rules or guidelines. A grand idea given to a child to be processed through a mind of inexperience and constructed with hands that lack precision and coordination. There is no depth, there is no meaning, there is only me.

I am a pencil sketch. Taking the form of something that could be great, it could be priceless. It could be one of the greatest achievements. And with the same breath it could be said that it could be an abomination. Something taken and forgotten to forever sit in the pit with the rest of those that had no intentions of being finished. There is a hopeful fear with every swift line.

I am a water colour painting. A fluid expression of thought. An amalgamation of ideas coming to fruition with a sense of freedom unparalleled as of yet. Colours free to bleed and mingle to become something new, something beautiful.




I am scratchboard. A black canvas waiting to be carved.

Primary colors
Etched out of black
scratchboard

Longings out of sight -
Peripheral vision blind

Rhythm out of rhythm
Rhyme within rhyme

Hanging midair
By a pendulum mental thread

Threadbare patches
Cover the distressed
Whole cloth

Agonizing, but sitting in
My comfortable chair


Only seven words
But conveying

So much.

Your voice...
The rustling, akin a longing soul
Imagine it harmonized in melody
Imagine it whispered to the wind
Fulfilling the emptiness in my heart

Your smile...
Piercing and carassing my heart
Imagine it brushed into a painting
Imagine it sculpted into art
Forever accompanying my dreams

No words succinct enough
No touches carasses enough
To describe the beauty of you
Your words will be immortalized in poems
Your promises spoken in eulogies
My couplets' scratchboard
My poetry...

Forever I will carve your smile
Forever I will paint your laughter
A perfect arrangement of the rainbow
Decorating the windows
To my eyes, to my soul

My musing is a scratchboard of
             inner turmoil and sometimes

                It cuts a little to deep,
       and my nose bleeds..

                              And in that moment
                                         this was written.