You're hurting. You're hurting bad.
I can see it in your bloodshot eyes
And how you shy away from smiles
Directed at you. Now your once-had
Gleaming spirit dwindles as it tries
To cut its pain with bleak exile.

But blood is pumping through your veins -
Don't change its course with nails or steel.
Our love for you will never fade, though
You ask me what I'd do if somone else took hold your reins
And replaced you, thinking that would make us feel
Happier - without you? Never. No.

I feel anger and frustration because I'm only human,
But nothing on this planet makes me happy like you can.
I love you, you know that. Believe that in yourself.
So stay with me - you'll be with me,
a heart within myself.

Today I told someone I loved them, and I ment it more than I could ever describe in words.

But there was a niggling thought in the back of my head.

"It's too soon," it whispered.

"You should have waited. It's too soon."

People will judge me. They will think I'm foolish.

But who is anyone else to tell me about how I love someone?

And since when does falling in love have a set rules?

Why should I let society decide that my love isn't real, because they don't belive someone can feel this strongly for somone so soon?

It took me eight months to say it to my X.

And I can honestly say that feeling was like a drop in the ocean, compared to how I feel now.

So yes you can say it's too soon.

Frankly I don't give a ****.

In a desperate attempt to  save hello  from near destruction the evil man ****** but yet charming in all togather strange way.
Elliot had a moment of true brillance   To get the anchors of hello togather  in a nice beach house.
Okay it  was a soon to be condemed rat trap hotel  on the Jersy shore and film it.

My worries were alerted already  for I was  really  wasnt up for making a **** .
Who am i kidding  sure i am.
But like when momma  gonzo told me that fat *****  in the red suit
wasnt really santa  just a child  molester.
I was wondering why santa  was  giving out candy in july
And why that candy cane was never in his pocket .
So the **** thing was off  it was to be a reallity show.

Freee ***** a chance to act up like a three year old hyped up on cookies    and crystal **** or whatever the kids were into these days.
They had me  sold so like a flock of segulls we ran   we ran so far away  eventhough  probation  said no my    gonzo sense said yes hey  lindsy lohan told me it sounded like  great idea  and who can argue with a crazy coke head.  

So we gathred in the bleek hope of saving hello from total boredom  and thoose hiku  writting nazis   from poetry soup.
Jack, Baths, Chris,Eileen,Gary,Paula,And that ***** Gonzo  
really  im so insecure  must just be that time of the month.

The rooms reminded me as a cross between the bates motel
and something outta the shining yes charming indeed.
We had the top floor  I always liked being on top but enough with the
forplay children.

The rooms  were picked  okay guys over there   girls come with me it was worth a try.  
The rooms were picked the honey moon suite  
going to me and Jack   ahh ****    there were strobe lights  stripper pole heart shapped  hot tub   jesus it was like  elton john had thrown  up in here  at least it smelled like it.

elliot had made it clear the bar tab was on us but knowing what a true sweetheart  he was he had somehow  left me his credit card
in my wallet maybe without knowing it.

One thing bout  are weird kinda umm  well  funny smelling digs  
there was a true blessing there  a bar   for what is a gonzo without his bar   much like a samuri  without his sword or a mean twig model without her cellphone  to throw  and finger to put down her throat to puke   memories   all alone in the moonlight dam you cats.

With some simple calls  the party was in full swing  and are shuttle bus slash   pinto had us at the hotest club slash retirement  home.
The music blasting so low as to not cause   bowel problems.
Me and Chris showing the old farts  how to play beer pong.
Missed shot  drink up grandma and please put your clothes on
****** you gravity.

Jack  kept the dance floor jumping  with his  fake mustache  little captians hat   and some other leather gear  once told me one thing that ****** was fahasion forward  you go girl.

Paula, Baths and Eileen   worked the newly  started  card game. You dont know how to gamble?  
Well are girls are happy to show ya gramps
Gary had disapeared  to the rest room  for some odd reason.
How he did put a smile on thoose  old ladies faces  seinor care
aint it grand they were were just glowing  what a odd place to be giving reading.

After we had hustled i mean  helped thoose old folks outta there life savings  it was time to party  really  they were almost dead  anyways
and a  funeral plot is overrated   just do what my  uncle did with his ex wife  tell everyone  one she went on vacation and bury her in backyard.

I'll never go tressure hunting again.
We hit the club like  like a hurricane that was laced with wild turkey   and   and a few rational thoughts.

The night was magic   for the money dissappeared   in seconds so like  any broke ***  writers  would do when facing  a fifteen thousand dollar bar tab.
We got the **** outta there.
Thank  god for a restroom window never mind me miss
im with security  and may i say you have a great rack.

The hotel reaked of mayhem and  a old winos ****  and maybe a dead
corpse or two.
HaAHahaha they'll never find you Drew.

It was like the cover of Sgt  Pepers lonley hearts club band  you know by   that classic group the backstreet boys.  
Yes drinking it doesnt effect the mind at all   now who the **** are you?

Dwarfs  junkies   men wearing sailors hats and **** straps did Jack have a dance  troupe?
Hookers drag queens  holy bat crap wonder woman   Lady Ga Ga.
Seems she had crashed into are pinto parked in the the street ******   Chris  i told you park it on the side walk  like me.

Jack  as  if  in a trance  was on stage with the  space alien ******
known as Ga Ga   it was a match made in a state   thats probaly filled with crazy people  like  Utah  or Canada.
Okay im kidding i love Canada  and i just learned it's a country
oh no wonder they hay have fences  I just thought they was a gated  community.  

Paula hit the floor after her third drink   and would probaly question   why somone  had written this space for rent  on her forehead
But like a true man that i was i would  blame that on Gary.

Chris and Eileen  danced laughed I had this odd feeling they were close   as Baths replied no **** sherlock  now pour me another  wine
befor i kick you in the *****   she is a charmer.

The crew fliming are madness  as togather we all danced apon the bar  but for some odd reason the ground had tilted and only effected me  dam UKs and there ninja abiltys and Garys knack for floating  on air.
I went down like a cheerleader on prom night hitting my head apon the floor.

Out like a stripper at a frat boys party after she had   beer and roofie
cocktail.
I was taken to a magical place  were  whiskey  flowed  like water
and you didnt have to pay for ***.

I awoke  in a hospital bed   head taped up  surrounded  by friends
the doctor asking many questions puzzled I made no sense.
Dear Lord this man has   brain dammage the doctor said.

The nurse leaned over  her  low cut top hey it's my write okay.
Brought a gleam to my devilish eyes   hey i mouthed   to Chris
I can see her *******.

Well  Gonzos fine  Chris replied.
As From the restroom there was a clatter
so i did turn my hungover head to see what  the **** was a matter.            

Jack appeared from the rest room Ga Ga in arm.
naked as bald eagle   void of feathers.

Gary.  Hey  i always herd  she was a .

Chris  Thats just ******* weird.

Paula. Who's the ***** who wrote on my forhead?  

Eileen.  it wasnt Chrisey poo.

Baths. Jesus  Gonzo your   long winded  crazy   and good looking
yeah i added that       hey don hit me i just had a near sober experience.
dam gaga is really a.

Jack  yeah and im in love my my my  poker face

FIN

Moving left to right,
Hips sway slowly,
Hair brushing one shoulder to the next,
Eyes closed and lips miming the words
She hears in her head.

We all wish those words were ours,
That our creativity made her move that way.
But they're not ours,
She's dancing to someone else's song

I wouldn't call them scars. Our bodies are ancient calendars marked with times and places. Tonight, you are not real. You are the desperate ocean lapping at the shoreline trying to take back the secrets in the bottles cast off by lovers, and children, letters to the dead sometimes. They are not your secrets, but they came to you first. They are full of feelings you have once felt or will feel. The bottles glisten in the sand mockingly, beautifully, painfully, like window shopping for jewelry you'll never be able to afford. You never expect to want the glass back after it has been pulled out of you. But the stories inside are your stories now too. You cast them off in the same manner hoping somone better than the sea will find them. The story about your cancer, your mother, the love you feel right now, the love returned, the time you thought of the beauty of a flower, the flower you killed to show someone how beautiful it was, the realization of the importance of stillness. All those stories like broken bottles in your skin. Like jewels encrusted on a big brass door leading to a room you live in. But tonight, you are the ocean at high tide, finally getting your bottles back.

"No one really wants to be in love. They don't really want someone to care about them and think about them. Most people prefer disinterest.

Make somone the focus of your attention and attend to their feelings and needs–they will be terrified of you.

Nothing frightens a person more than the feeling of being the true center of attention.

The feeling of having somone really looking at, observing, them.

No, they would prefer someone who has their own life. Somone who makes the perfunctory gesture of love. Some flowers here, a compliment there; but real, true attention–no one wants that.

To those who are true lovers this is a painful reality we encounter with each new love. We must re-learn restraint. To control our desire to shower another with affection and attention. For as surely as we do, as surely they will turn away from us.

No one wants love–really."

She stands
My eyes follow
She's brighter than the others
The colour so vivid
I've never seen somone so bright
She glows like the sun,the moon, and the stars
She smiles
I feel my heart reel
The colour gets brighter
Almost blinding


She's the one...

People told me you were a smoker-
nothing but trouble,
and that you were left overs
from girls who had left because they were
scared
I didn't listen, I just wanted to kiss
away the nicotine, I got withdrawls without
being addicted, and our lips never met
because I kept shoving you away,
you kept reaching for the skin under my 
'Fall Out Boy' t-shirt 
And you told me that I made you hot,
and I just giggled and said you didn't
need me, you were the hottest guy I had ever seen
but I knew what you meant,
I could feel the desire on your breath
against my neck

you took me to a concert
with the music blaring in my ears, I could
barely hear what you said but I could see
the way your eyes moved and the way that my heart started to sink
when our eyes met
so our sweaty bodies pressed against eachother in time to the music
and I laughed when you sang those songs about love and heartbreak
staring at me, because I didn't realize (I never realized)
that I meant that much to you 
(I thought it was always a joke, the way you needed me. I didn't
understand that the music spoke to you about me)

I asked you, still wearing the t-shirt (much to your dismay)
which Fall Out Boy song
could be ours, and as you stared
at the anchor (I asked you to lift your eyes but you wouldn't)
you chose Alone Together, or 
was it The Phoenix, I couldn't remember,
but you said I was your phoenix,
and I laughed and compared you to Albus Dumbledore,
but inside I wasn't laughing, because there was
fiery desire in your finger tips,
and I wondered if I really would burst into flames
(or tears, but either way, would I come back to life?)
But I thought it was the coolest thing
that you thought I was **** (like Finn said to Rachel during their
prom king and queen dance)

but inside I stared at you the same way
watching my heart slowly crack because I was never as desirable
as pretty as she could be.
you deserved to be with somone like her,
someone who's body fits perfectly into yours
who would fit right into a magazine photoshoot right beside you
while I took the photographs of the perfect couple..
I put on my best clothes and dressed up hoping to look like sleeping beauty to you 
but you laughed at me and asked why I looked so fancy
we were only watching Peter Pan, like we did every friday
(and I was Tinkerbell, because you were too blinded by someone else 
to see me)

I remember that I asked you, on a Wednesday 
(you pointed out my bracelet and told me it was **** Day,
and winked, and I shuddered inwardly)
why you left the last girl-
and you said because she was a princess
and I was a queen,
and I laughed and threw my arms around your neck
and we kissed and I tasted nicotine, your hands were cold
against my neck.
That was it. That was my wake up call.
I was nothing but a body to you,
my chest and rear were big,
larger than most,
so I shoved you away again, and then turned on my heel,
and said 'you are my ashes, and I have risen out of you',
and then I was gone on my Phoenix Wings.
But that was not the end of it,
because then I visited her, your ex,
and I told her what happened, and let myself cry a little,
and the two of us watched Peter Pan,
and I made a friend, because we had both dated Captain Hook.

I´ve been thinking too much of a past without a body
of a spirit who felt a little shoddy
with a mind that wanted control of heart it could never fully control.
I´ve been thinking of the taliban, men dressed in faith for what they believe in
I´ve been thinking about belief and in what I believe in, if I believed enough to sacrifice my body for a future I can´t be sure of,
I´ve been thinking if I were givin time as my present where would I like to be, well, the present is a gift worth opening even if only for one life my life a life will affect your life and in this time we´ve been givin we make choices based on handouts from a god who loved you more then you thought possible of a soul that shined perhaps too birghtly of a heart which holds nothing but silence in a world created by our majesty
I´ve been thinking that maybe I am god, that maybe I was created as the image of myself to learn a few lessons from hard times and grow a little hope from good times
I´ve been thinking I could be a great man, maybe I´m already great man, that I am still a boy trying to recieve his addition muptiplication division arithmic badge of honor in second grade 2 plus 2 was all I could stutter but it didn´t matter cause I kept going until I dropped out for reasons that could seem a little sadder but I believe in a world that I can be me even with out a college degree, that when Im ready I can go back without a worry of how maybe it should be
and I´ve been thinking about a beautiful place thats really nowhere when I sit in silence with silence with myself, I find it there but for some reason I make the road bumpy and with too many hills where my imaginary feet get ill from too much foaming from all this guilt that maybe I´m not good enough to reach where buddha sat and I´m not worthy to make a change in world where judgement doesn´t really mean a thing except for what we think of ourselves.
Yea, I´ve been thinking of blue worlds where blue´s jazz and blue´s slide guitar and blues harmonica and saxophone and trombone and trumpet is all they play because it speaks a truth no ones heard before even with out words then I start thinking thats what it means to me how can I portray that feeling to somone else
I´ve been thinking as I cook myself some toast that maybe if I work a little bit harder and don´t expect everything handed to me I could cook something better which requires more than a couple strokes of butter
that
Maybe if I belive in what I think that I can make any reality real with just a thought that if what I say in my head is actually what I believe then what have I been thinking with thoughts like ¨I´m afraid that no one can love me¨and thoughts like ¨I wish I could be like someone else¨that if what we think is actually what we create then I should be thinking that hey I am great.
So I´ve been thinking change happens with thought so maybe I am changing more than I thought with just these thoughts I think when I´m lingering through time and greeting each wave of negativity with something close to positivity which could be said is the same as god, that love that the devil so fondly loves to hate is really the image that I´ve always been its just that I forgot with these distracting thoughts,
I started thinking then I need to stop, destroy, annhilate these demon thoughts of hate hate hate which really are just fear fear fear but then I realized that I only patronized that fear with more hate and I added gas to a fire that quickly ate my soul before I realized I was on a downward spiral, confused on thought alone of I´m supposed to be a better man not a sadder man because when I added something else to that fire it spread and I realized I needed some sort of water which could do things a little bit harder
Thats when I thought to love the hate the same as you love that love.
When I see those thoughts tromping through this sacred vessel I don´t get angry at their muddy feet instead I say its okay, sit back relax make yourself at home, and they slowly settle into this vast expanse of infinity which some have called your heart. And thats when I began to forgive myself for all that shame and anger I cast like a shadow and I began to forgive myself for all that guilt and suffering I cast like harry potter and I began to forgive myself for when I was too scared to talk because I thought that somebody out there wouldn´t like me and I began to forgive myself for all that I had embodied with this false self I had thrown out to protect this oh so holy body,
I´ve been thinking that maybe being vulnerable isn´t as bad as its been cracked out to be and that maybe one day I´ll finally become what I am in silence
that
what I´ve been thinking is maybe this is just another thought that could be forgotten, but thats exactly when I need to remember what I already know of how the future should be exciting and the past has always helped remind me that when I´m living right now I no longer have to hide behind thoughts which no longer scare me.
I´ve been thinking it all starts with a thought, something I believe we should all be taught.

We drank and became aware.
After a sneaky shot of whiskey.
The hispanic reminded myself.
The ingnorent Michael of sidharthas plan.
If he came now and toaday.
Could the sidhartha buddha search his own.
There are circumstanses to understand.
Sidhartha sidhartha.  I read about the river.
Govinda found your nieve friend.
The man who would be disiple for the world.
Sidhartha would find somone elses journey.
Which in the making was his own creation.
In a epic adventure what's worth the struggle.
Its to easy and simple giving in.
Our sidhartha understood the noble Idea.
Which is make patience before accepting and believing what you have to.
In his unshaken morals he would become the buddha.  
A soul every person needs to read about.
If they want fufillment in life.

. and i am only ascribed, a relevant nation status, within the individual, by only having to "enjoy" an exile... back, "home": merging into an NPC-meme, so not the mahjong solitaire acronym "game"? you know: PSCAPE-complete, NP-complete... NP-C? NP-complete problems? nondeterministic polynomial time? guess i was the only dumb 'un to self-teach myself to play mahjong solitaire... i guess that's not expected to be hard... hey: here's the map, you figure it out.

the current climate of a crescendo
of events...

****...
        i can't say maine ****:
even though i own two cats
of that breed...

it's all...  (sniff sniff):
very much like being back
in a catholic high school,
of a highly irish choice
of breed area
of outlier "london"...

       with black girls...
putting vaseline cream
into their hair,
to keep the frizz out...
or the afro...
whichever...

     getting into cat-fights
with each other
and some outlier white girls...
stephanie:
oh i remember stephanie...
while the "other"
time i learned what
a "kit-kat" was...
   lucy...
with ambitions to become
a stripper...

    "kit-kat":
  one hand, does a four-finger
*******...

but the fact that the current
climate
doesn't allow dialectics?
i mean: debate,
without all the rhetorical
******* of:
pre-staged "events"?

i take two beers,
or three,
   a packet of cigarettes...
spot a park bench,
sit on it,
and...
              wait...
some old timer is bound
to chat me up...
hardly complaining
about me drinking in
public,
i excuse myself,
asking him:
is it o.k. if i light a
cigarette?
  no complaints...
he might just come
back with
a rayleigh bicycle...
green...
******* plush specimen
from...
  i'm guessing the 1950s...
and then we'd juggle...
opinions...
because opinions
are not debated...
not in a dialectic environment...
juggle...
two clowns: first pucker
to the punch of a smacker
of a pair of lips of a woman...

and you know...
there would be this...
aura of a whispering silence...
like...
somone was listening...
god... ****: perhaps god...

and we'd sit there...
spewing opinion after
opinion,
   and we'd talk about bicycles,
about his grandchildren's
supposed autism,
and i'd try to comfort him
saying: just give them some time...

but the pop media doesn't
do that, does it?
dialectics on a park bench
is as alien to pop media
as seeing a ******* ****
saucer, all phosphoresent
in the night sky...
   like: neon a. zero...
neon a. zero
  to b. abide blackout,
come in c.
c. piccadilly circus
                             neon out...

i was saying something:
yeah, i was:
never pity the drunk...
he'll just turn inside out and
tell you:

   'the best poached eggs
i ever made... were...
when i was blitzed...
  plastered...
  *******: goo....   goo'n:
gone...
but the perfect poached
eggs...
        yeah yeah...
whrill in a movement
for a tornado,
drip some white vinegar...
  drop... pouch you
limbless chicky-coco-clock-in!'

or... that what i expected
from... not taking
boxing lessons...
did about 3 lessons in martial
arts...
was kicked in the *******
by the teacher...
so i flunked...
  **** to that sort of "club"
of self-defense...
you kick me in the *****,
i kick out your ego...
and thought?
  hell...
         either a stephen king
novel
       or a shot from a shotgun...

honest to god,
i once asked an afro-saxon
if i could touch his hair...
guess what?
  i touched it...
   ooh...
goose feathers...
they would really replace
goose feathers with
afros...
  it's like:
the engineering
concept that went into
springs
of cars?
    ever touch an afro?
cushions...
  i'm feeding goose feather
stuffed pillows...
or springs on both
the bed,
   or a car,
or any variant form of
transportation...

i prayed for chop-sticks,
instead...
they gave me drum-sticks...
but no drum...
they said:
   air-drum...
  ****... that's a tough gig...
air-guitar is once thing...
but air-drum?

i had to start thinking
about my inherent
physical "disability"
concerning the *******
as...
   leech...
  or  yiddish:
     schmuck...
       and... i went to the elders
and they...
didn't expect i was
handed down the script
of william burrough...

imagine...
   a world...
where there was "excess" skin...
associated with the ****...
like... a floral pattern,
protruding out,
and not in...
   so i said:
  sleeve off, or sleeve on?
am i to **** some maiden
or simply do some
jamaican recipe replica
of a *******?

you sure eve of eden
confused the phallus
with a serpent...
or more... a mushroom?
well... if you circumcise
the ******...
that's more a mushroom
than some reptilian
                   artifact, no?

well... we're not going
to have a dialectical spectacle
with the way we're going,
are we?
  i'm juggling opinions,
midly drunk,
with some elder,
bicycles,
the weather, seasons,
grandchildren and autism...
and on the center
stage...

              ONLY RHETORIC
ALLOWED...
       i'm as ugly as Socrates
inside and out...
at this point,
at this point: inside and out...
so...
  if only i was dyslexic
akin to the modern and ancient
greek standards of
not having
the capacity to write...

        writing has become
a famine of conversation...
i don't want to speak because
i chose the medium of writing...
i like ballet...
  i also like watching someone
play the piano...
and then i watch myself
itch away at a keyboard
of, thus, arranged letters.

the pope asked me what i really belived in, behind the lies and masks and the effect of saten.
you know what i told him?
wanna know what i said on that dry summer evenin?
i said that my holy book is read by the perfact way your hair looks messy when you just get out of bed,
when you call me late at night because our songs stuck inside your head.
i worship the way you always say that i know just what you think,
ill pray to the way your voice goes low as hell when you talk about true love.
the way your eyes make stars appear in all that dreary darkness of...all the rhods we take and lines we cross just to hold echother near. and at the end of this congregation i promise ill see you soon my dear.
you give new colors to every flower. evey lemon, every tree. and the colors sparkle only when i hold you close to me,
on the red platos of navajo, honey bees makeing a song so much better than the radio, your voice the lead singer and my spirit feels the flow.
so yeah i know its a little bit melo-dramadic, a bit manic, co dependent on the way you look at me, whatever you see thats just what i wanna be. babe.
and so my soul is saved with every touch from you.
preach in the pew about all the times we had at midnight solitary dances running from our taxes living life and death theres nothin left
but all that holy love we share.

so i told the prest the, minister the bishop and the father and the son and evry single holy ghost who was there, that im in love with this girl and i dont give a ****, what you think force me to drink that holy water to set me on that straigh and narrow bath, and i would laugh at all the **** that they belive will work on somone such as me.
and THATS how i got excommunicated
thankyou

I am falling
No
I am about to fall

There are instructions in my hand
something about landing safely
Something about floating
Not flying

I do not know who has decided this for me
There are tools in my hands
I am expected to build a kite in the freefall I think

Somone pushes me
If I land safely then she will love me
this is dream truth

I am a kite now
I let my string drag along the surface of the earth

Reel me in as I pass by
Or don't

I don't care
I can't fly
But I can't fall anymore either

People told me you were a smoker-
nothing but trouble,
and that you were left overs
from girls who had left because they were
scared
I didn't listen, I just wanted to kiss
away the nicotine, I got withdrawls without
being addicted, and our lips never met
because I kept shoving you away,
you kept reaching for the skin under my
'Fall Out Boy' t-shirt
And you told me that I made you hot,
and I just giggled and said you didn't
need me, you were the hottest guy I had ever seen
but I knew what you meant,
I could feel the desire on your breath
against my neck

you took me to a concert
with the music blaring in my ears, I could
barely hear what you said but I could see
the way your eyes moved and the way that my heart started to sink
when our eyes met
so our sweaty bodies pressed against eachother in time to the music
and I laughed when you sang those songs about love and heartbreak
staring at me, because I didn't realize (I never realized)
that I meant that much to you
(I thought it was always a joke, the way you needed me. I didn't
understand that the music spoke to you about me)

I asked you, still wearing the t-shirt (much to your dismay)
which Fall Out Boy song
could be ours, and as you stared
at the anchor (I asked you to lift your eyes but you wouldn't)
you chose Alone Together, or
was it The Phoenix, I couldn't remember,
but you said I was your phoenix,
and I laughed and compared you to Albus Dumbledore,
but inside I wasn't laughing, because there was
fiery desire in your finger tips,
and I wondered if I really would burst into flames
(or tears, but either way, would I come back to life?)
But I thought it was the coolest thing
that you thought I was **** (like Finn said to Rachel during their
prom king and queen dance)

but inside I stared at you the same way
watching my heart slowly crack because I was never as desirable
as pretty as she could be.
you deserved to be with somone like her,
someone who's body fits perfectly into yours
who would fit right into a magazine photoshoot right beside you
while I took the photographs of the perfect couple..
I put on my best clothes and dressed up hoping to look like sleeping beauty to you
but you laughed at me and asked why I looked so fancy
we were only watching Peter Pan, like we did every friday
(and I was Tinkerbell, because you were too blinded by someone else
to see me)

I remember that I asked you, on a Wednesday
(you pointed out my bracelet and told me it was **** Day,
and winked, and I shuddered inwardly)
why you left the last girl-
and you said because she was a princess
and I was a queen,
and I laughed and threw my arms around your neck
and we kissed and I tasted nicotine, your hands were cold
against my neck.
That was it. That was my wake up call.
I was nothing but a body to you,
my chest and rear were big,
larger than most,
so I shoved you away again, and then turned on my heel,
and said 'you are my ashes, and I have risen out of you',
and then I was gone on my Phoenix Wings.
But that was not the end of it,
because then I visited her, your ex,
and I told her what happened, and let myself cry a little,
and the two of us watched Peter Pan,
and I made a friend, because we had both dated Captain Hook.

Fall in love with someone
just stay in someone's hert
fall in love with goodone
tell your feelings in short

Fall in love to make somone happy
dont be like loser
express your feelings
and try your destiny

Fall in love for a reason
nought your tie with somone forewere
Fall in love to change your mind in each season
try your best to be a good lover

Fall in love,to explain your mistake
             Make your Life
                    Happy
                        &
             Chocolate Kake .

like a piece of paper
printed-stored in a dark file
then -after a while placed inside a shredder
that how useless i felt
when our love went through the wire
it doesnt matter how much i couldve prayed
but i had fallen pray
of this cycle of life that happens day by day

like a piece of paper
i got recycled-re vived again
as to become useful to somone
out there
willing to make me appreciated again
turning me into something different
making me feel useful again

pegz (c)

Being told to take a deep breath
while drowning under water is like telling somone that's having a panic attack to stay calm.

When you do under water photography
with a full tank of oxygen you are told to only go down 100ft
After you go further than that your air begins to be compressed and you intake more oxygen
Thus leaving you 20 minutes before your supply of oxygen runs out and you're left 110ft down in the deep blue
You are asked not to panic if your oxygen valve is cut off
Stay calm
you can't breath
Stay calm
you just took a gulp of salt water
Stay calm
you've lost all feeling in your body
Stay calm
you're sinking
By all means stay calm
Now you can feel the bubbles in your vains
The very last supply of oxygen you have Trying to keep you alive
It leaves you feeling faint as if you're intoxicated
Well this isn't the high you were looking for

As a freshman in high school you're stressed out with the sudden new changes
More classes
More homework
Less friends
Less time
Getting up in the morning is a drag
You dare not look at your reflection because you know you'll only find someone who isn't you.
Walking the halls with weights on your chest flinching at the laughing group of girls
jumping at the bell
Aware of every sound around you, alarming you of any and all possible worse outcomes
You make it past your first two classes sitting alone at lunch
You can feel the stares
Compressed in your on bubble
The large crowd causing cold sweats
palms shaking
blurred vision
It's happening again
loss of balance
Everyone slows down
Your body is paralysed and you can't hear your own screams
You're told not to panic your  body is in flight or fight mode
It'll only last 20 minutes
Stay calm
hands are being wrapped around your neck
Stay calm
you only lost control of your body
They told you not to pass 100ft now you have 20 minutes before your tank gives out

You only pushed yourself past the limit because you thought you'd be able to survive one lunch period without a panic attack
110ft below the ocean isnt that far you've only done this plenty of times
But 1 to many is all it takes to be proven wrong

You see anxiety isn't cute
It's not butterflies in your stomach
Not akwarrd litlle giggles
The reality is it's a demon or a shadow that follows your every move you can't run away from it because it'll only follow
It's there when you wake up its there when you sleep
It's there when you're trying to speak but your words get cut off


It's loosing all control in your body yet being aware of everything that's happening.
You can't hear your own screams but you know they're there.
Heart palpitations.
Your breathing becomes as fast as your heart rate.
You can't see the people staring but you know they're watching.
You don't blame them, you don't know how to stop it either.
Having a gun held to your chest and being told to run.
Being told your free while being locked in a cell.
Don't panic.
Stay calm.
"Anxiety, is that actually a thing?"

Anxiety is real
I say this with caution
why?
Because the society we live in forces us to pretend we're perfect even though we all know we are not
and if a "major flaw" such as anxiety evolves our life we shall not speak of it because you will be ridiculed and called unsettled or insane.
They'll scream at you and tell you not to have a pity party.
But all you ever wanted was a hand to lead you through.
You see it's not a social norm to have a disorder especially a mental one.
You're "normal" as long as you're indulged in studies and are focused on what college will accept you.
Friends enemies and acquaintances you must have a social life.
Its not right if you think its right to not worry what others perceive of you.
You have to spend time with your family and enjoy it
Or make time with your family and act is if you enjoy it.
Put a smile on as you walk the halls.
You wouldn't want to send negative vibes to your fellow classmates.
Laugh at some jokes but not all.
Even if you are overwhelmed in joy only show a percentage of it.
Don't show much emotion but don't show to little or your teacher may accuse you of being apathetic.
You can't make everyone happy.
You can't fit these rules because you have a little demon picking at you called anxiety. Study?
No.
More like shove as much information that you can into your head until you have a mental breakdown
You can't make friends because no one wants a friend who can't speak without stuttering.
Spending time with your family is a weight on your chest.
When will you inform them that their eldest child.
Whose supposed to be a role model, is slowly drifting away
becuase of an uninvited guest who forces themselves to stay
Getting out of bed and going through the motions of school is more of a chore being careful not to trigger any panic attacks. You're trying to be normal to meet societies standards and maybe your own but when will you be given a chance to not stand alone but to stand together with others.
Who are facing the same problem.
Because 20% of teens are suffering from an anxiety disorder.
You can question the standards because your life is at stake.
You can reach out in hopes that you'll receive a healing hand.
If only we can lower the black curtian we call 'normal' and accept the fact that not all fit this category.

Dating with anxiety
Is always over thinking.
The messages never replied to lead to the thoughts swirling through your head.
Every detail gets scrutinized.
Every moment replayed over and over until you can't think.
The little things that no one looks at become huge and the reason anything went wrong.
You try to be normal and not let it show because if they really know they will run away.
Being crazy isn't easy. The normal ones don't understand.
They don't get what your brain demands.
The need to be reassured and affirmed, to know that they haven't changed their minds.
But how do you say it? How do you let them into your hell? How would somone stick around after they understand the interworkings of the cells that create the mass that is you.
You spend the nights laying awake thinking. Wanting to just let it all spill out like a glass of milk knocked off the table but instead you walk on egg shells and pretend you're not internally freaking out. That you haven't spent all day looking at a message then closing the phone. Only to open it again and begin to reply ....but wait if you reply now you're clingy. But how do you gracefully walk the line between crazy and cute?

The answer.
You don't. You just silently go insane and internalise it all for the sake of saving face. To appear like the person they want. Because if you can be that then everything will be fine.

But what happens when the glass pane shatters when the mirror image you projected crumbles? What happens when the monster you've been shutting down for weeks on end to seem normal starts to seep through the cracks? What then? Will he still be there? Will he be able to handle it?

You go on a date and the conversation leads to "oh I have anxiety" he looks at you and just kinda shruggs. You glaze over the subject and move on. Like I had just said god bless you after a sneeze no second thoughts. No further questions. The cat is out of the bag but does he realize that by cat I mean lion? Huge, ferocious, dominant, lurking in the background ready to strike? No. Because I am a good pretender. I am good at making the facade up to par. What you don't see is the circus dancing around the erupting volcano inside. Every cell vibrating trying not to implode.

They don't see the girl who can't breathe because she is so far down the black hole that swallows her whole lost in the inner workings of her mind. Screaming to be seen and accepted. Begging to be allowed out. Needing to show herself.

But no. That's not allowed. Once it's out there it can't be put away. You cant just say haha just kidding. Because the damage is done. You've either found one who will take the shattered girl or everything you've thought would happen does and you're alone again.

All great stories have a beginning , a middle & a end,
But not necessarily in that order.

I wonder what metaphor you should be,
Like I wonder if our story is just at the beginning  or just at the ending.
Or if there is a fairy tale ending.
THE END .
What is on the last page of a book was on
The first chapter of ours titled rejection.

I wonder why I had to laugh to the sound of no
Just to make this easier for you
I wonder is this the false face of a lover,
Simply to care.
I wonder am I allowed to use the  word love
When our story together never really began.

I wonder if there is an alternative to the two paths I can take,
Like I wonder do you realise my meaning behind how 'I want  to watch you grow',
If the two lesser roles you had offered to me is mine to pick  to be stranger or friends
For the lesser plot of our Middle,
Let me explain,
I wanted to be somone special in this story
If you allow me to.

But instead I'm probably going to be
Like a social therapist,
Like a guardian angel,
Like a hero who does not  wear capes.

But instead I'm probably going to be
Always listening and never fixing,
Always blessing  but never protecting,
Always  changing and never rescuing.

I wonder why you  can be so certain,
I wonder  was it easy for you to edit away at this life's story

I wonder if you Know why you re called  a baby chick?
You're like a baby chick who has yet to grow out feathers
Like a chick that does not give out hope,
Cause hope is a thing of feathers.

I wonder if this relationship is at the ending or  at the beginning?
P.S. you ****

Why do you give me this feeling
The feeling of me wanting you back
Even when you cut my heart open
You showed me you didn't care
That you'll never want anything to do with me
Your cold, cruel hands choked me
But I still stuck around
I didn't care what your crazy mind did to my feelings
I still stuck around
Even when we were no more
I still don't know why
But I did
I loved you
I'm not sure what I feel for you now
All I know is that you'll always have a place in my heart
You where there for me
You hurt me
You loved me
Maybe still do
Not sure
Still not clear to me
You don't tell me much
You were my first in may things
You were my first boyfriend
For a long time
Even though we were young and didn't know what love was
We were together
Love is a passion between two people
Love is being happy with one another
Love is being able to tell them anything you want
Love is bring afraid of losing your partner
I'm afraid
I wanna know you forever
Maybe not be together
Your warm hands come back
They love and carry me
They were always there when I needed them
A hand to hold
A body attached
To cuddle with
To be with

I still have feeling, I know
I'm mostly sure
But I must move on
I have somone now
Who shows and tells his passion for me everyday
But you
I hate you with a passion yet love you till eternity

Dear unknown, (s)
.      I won't use your name or hint to how we relate. Not cuz im afraid but cuz im real and **** is only talked by fakes. This is for one person no people and my whole state.
now that weve made the mud clear I have alot to say. so sit down and pay attention to what I Wright on this page.

     To start ill say that im not trying to blame, point fingers or hang anybody.

I dont want to be alone
i cant stress that enough
i hate being depressed
i.hate not having love
the only being that loves me is God
shouldn't that be enough
why am i awake crying about somone
who gave up on us
i thought i was better
but it keeps running back to me
i would be watching tv
abd realize i have no one who would want to watch it with me
i want to die
but i can't leaves this world knowing
i would hurt somebody
because people only show you they care after your die
my death might cause somone to die on the inside
and that's not right
but im lonely
i hate this depression

I can see it.
I can see you.
I can see her.
I can see it.
I can see you falling.
I can see her lying.
I can see it.

I can't see how you can trust her,
I know her little game,
What really throws me off is that I think your doing the same,
I've know her much longer than you,  she tries to act so cool,
Through my eyes, shes an absoloute fool,
But you smile and nod and think and now you, wonder.. "Am I the actual fool? Is she the one who I really love. Somone so mean and fake? Not only to that ******* the left side of the bus, but...... I think I'm making a mistake."

I hope you finally see the real and perform an act of wisness, because I do not care of you burn in flames because of her.

I can see it right now.
You let her manipulate you, and now you dont even know whats going on. And I bet your wondering, "Do i know?" NO!!

She lies
She manipulates
She pretends
She is unworthy of such a title
Shes a bully
She is a monster.

So wake up from that ******* cloud nine, and tell me Im not to late, and youre still there, some where in there mess up there.

Don't trust
Don't trust you
Don't trust her
DO NOT TRUST

Coming and going,
never stand still,
                           except to smell the roses,
                          or flowers, or the light waft
                          of shampoo in that special somone's hair,
leaving and arriving,
n'er you rest your weary head,
                                                 yet wrest yourself
                                                  from the test that is life,
                                                 are you in tune with the
                                                   call of the loon,
entering and exiting
through doors (of opportunity)
and windows (of more opportunity),
                                                   ­       our lives are lived in transit,
                                                        ­                        that's what it is,
                                                             ­         oh to be able to visit,
                                                        
i­f only a handful of you,
break bread together,
laugh at the awkward silences,
make friendships out of strangers,
while being a stranger in strange lands,
because,
anyone of us,
could no longer
post powerful prose,
spin a rhyme on a dime,
love somone other than ourselves, for the thousandth poem,
leave lines of self-loathing, cutting
into the darkness of a dark room,
with the white computer light of
a forgivenss, friendship and a family
of poets and writers,
all in transit, here is to crossing paths, or pens
                         and let the ink fall where it may,
                         if I was close enough ...to offer an open hand.

Some things don't hit you


                                                       til you tell somone else.              
                                                      
                                                              "She's
                                                                      never
                                                                                  coming
                                                                                                 back."

Ever had depression so bad you forget who you are
No identity
No self assurance
Who am i
I never knew who i was
Always played the chameleon from the time i was 10
Ever had anxiety so bad you're petrified with fear
Somone left my sight and i thought they'd die
Someone would'nt respond and i thought i was hated
I leave my house the worse will happen
Always questioning everying
Always left wondering
Always asking what if
Always looking over my shoulder
Always expecting a blow that might not even come
Always looking for escape routes
Always moving
Always changing
Always tired
Someone tell me a story
So I can forget
Someone tell me a story
So i can be free
Someone tell me a story
So i can escape
Someone tell me a story
So i can get away
Someone tell me a story
So i can get a happy ending
Someone tell me a story
Someone tell me a story
Someone tell me a story
Someone please set me free

Even the truth pauses if
you ask it for the time; a
woman who is smarter than
you still likes it when you
smile at her; every elevator
stops on more than one floor;
a kiss doesn’t always settle
an argument but it still feels
good; if you take the time to
complain about frivolous
things then you already are
its intended victim; there’s
not a woman alive who can
prepare you for the next one;
you will always be unsatisfied
if you take yourself too
seriously; if you can paint
something that you’ve never
seen then you have an
imagination; if you can paint
something that would unnerve
your mother then you are free;
there is nothing you should
ask of someone if you excuse
yourself from the same rules;
a grown-up desires the same
things but knows too much
about tomorrow; if you think
it is too late to discover your
true gift then you are wrong;
to live life waiting for bad news
is no way to live; to see that
others live the same way is
to know that you are not alone;
there is someone out there
for you but if you keep your
heart to yourself then he
will walk past you like a
stranger on the corner; no
matter how creative you are
someone can do it better; if
your ego exceeds your
capabilities then you will
live a life of delusion; the
best way to become empathetic
is to become obsessed with
describing the feelings of
others; a true artist is always
waiting for the next creation
no matter how great the last
one was; the impatience of
the imagination is unleashed
once you recognize that it
exists; there's always one
more love in your life but you
have to give them the chance
you swore you would never do
again; the day you decide to
justify yourself instead of
challenging your beliefs is
the day you stop learning;
there are three ways to change,
a painful mistake, hearing the
truth from your best friend or
comparing yourself to somone
great but without the desire
to change you will remain as
you were when the truth tells
you that time is no longer its
concern; whatever is lodged
in your mind causes disbelief
in something, but have you
built the wall in the right place?

Higher than a kite
Like that Elton John song you like
*******
Now that that's out of the way
I feel so happy for once
I could get used to it
I need to find a replacement
Somone
Or something
To make me care
Whatever you are
Thank you

Each poem I write about my true feelings,
I slowly chip away at the mask that I wear
For you to see who I  genuinely am, and it
Takes a lot of time, but it will be worth it.

We have slowly chipped away
The masks that we wear every day
With each poem that I write
And with each poem that you read.

Through my poetry we see cracks
Of light that is our true person that
We want to world  to see but we are
Afraid of how to show it to the world.

I hide behind my poetry because I don’t
Know how to tell the you and the world
How I genuinely feel about anything
And through my poetry I can do so

Without being afraid of directly saying
To every single person my true feelings
But after sharing my world with you
I am no longer afraid to tell you how

I genuinely feel because I have confidence
In myself because with each poem I write
You see cracks in my mask and light breaking
Through the cracks and my true self coming out.

I am no longer shy when I am around you
And I am my genuine self when we talk.
Everything that I have told you through my
Poetry is genuinely true and now what I will tell

You in person is my genuine self because there
Is no point in hiding who wer are anymore.
We have opened up to each other and there
Is no point in closing our book or ripping out pages.

Our books will remain open with blank pages to be
Filled as our genuine identity breaks through the
Masks that we wear every day and every night.
After you read this poem, you will have chipped

The last chip off my mask and my genine self will
Be exposed to you and to everyone in the world.
I will no longer afraid or shy to talk to you about
Anything and everything from my past that shaped

Me into who I am today no matter how bad my past
May have been because with every second I spend
With you my shyness and my mask melt away
And the person I wanted you to meet will still be there.

After you read this poem, I will be a new person
Whom I’ve never ever been before in my life.
After you read this poem, I will be somone better.
With this poem, I will be the genuine person that I am.

I will be who I really am with this poem.

The only light in my room is the blue of my skull lantern, red of my lava lamp and flicker of candle. It's hard to explain but it's surprisingly beautiful. The blue is making colors normally left unseen in the daylight pop off of my fuzzy pegasus blanket. The red glitter casting lights around my room like a million little supernovas. The candle is flicking light across my black curtains sweeping through my room pushed by the night winds like the souls of the lost. Will i become on of them? It's raining hard against my open windows and i can smell the damp earth a ****** throw away from where i sit under my luminescent posters and black and white photos depicting people torn and broken finding redemption. Will i ever be one of them? I have the overwhelming need to walk out into the dark blanket of the night, let my bare feet sink into the soft green blades beneath me, these ones wont cut me. I want to walk under the heavy moon resting like a jewel in the fabric of space, I long to wander these 23 acres wading through ankle deep currents, crawl through sharp thorns, run with the deer and howl with the lonely coyote. I want to treat the stars like old friends, tell them my woes and lost loves, my regrets and deepest fears, confide in them my scariest dreams, insecurities, joys, sorrows, loves. I'll beg the universe to put it's faith in me, ask it to recognize my existence because it sure as hell know i recognize its. But I'm not out there wih the rain washing away my fears. I'm lying naked atop a fuzzy blanket feeling the swirls of wind licking the skin of my legs, stoumache and face raising goosebumps like an old lover. Half of me shrouded in cold half warmed by the softness beneath me lulling me to sleep the other is begging me to stay awake, keep observing the world aorund me. I wont give into the warmth. I'll lay here awake ears flooded with the sound of sad guitars and tired voices, looking at the illuminated colors smelling the soft earth and nights perfume, feeling the dark run it's hands over the half of me i give it. Maybe I'll give it the rest of me, I wonder what I'll find? Only now do I feel at home under fluttering feathers of broken dream catchers, next to faceless angels and fantasy heros. They say everyone has a happy place, I finally found mine. In the middle of the night surrounded by pale light while only those who think like me are awake, looking at the same stars begging them for their own forgiveness. This is my place of peace how long will it last until somone finds it and taints it or takes it away like everything else? THis is the only place soft on my brittle bones, tender on my aching muscles. Yhe only place with enough air for my colapsing lungs. The night swoops me up in it's arms twirling me in the moonlight, dipping me in the stars. When I'm with the dark I dont have to confront the empty side of my bed because it fills it. The night is my lover and I'd give anything to stay in it's catastrophically beautiful embrace. The bittersweet dismay is I cant stay. So tonight I'll crawl into the warmth of my bed, drift into a deep sleep and pray to one day be nocturnal and join the night until the ends of my days. When my body gives way to the dust, I hope the night absorbs me, turns me into a shining star for wanderers to pray upon, and welcome me home.

I speak to my body
and tell my very skin to hold on
for the places that I will be letting my
ease drip is no ocean of euphoria
yet it will provide the joy in delivery
in the very understanding of the depth
beneath our feet, in the fleeting
air of real human like feelings
breathing around us
pitiful skeletons enveloped like ghosts
my back is stabbed and I am wounded
bleeding on the years under me
floating in gray air
I see every small detail
every dull and alien like brittle particle
oh I see everything
my legs are open and ready to take in
all the life
just life
only for me, and nothing else
I want none
fullfilled with my own generosity
I choose not to let somone invade my
warmth at the time,
I am selfish with myself
I want only myself
I want only my love
and I want only my pain
until I find you who understands that
I lay stagnant a tear
upon my blushed cheek

Someone asked me what being a poet is like.
And I blushed.

Not because I was called a poet
(Which I'm not)
Not because my poems embarrass me
(Sometimes they do)

But because being a poet
Is like that dream.
You know that dream,
where you're naked in front of a class?

Being a poet, painter, and musician
Is like being naked.

You're exposed to the world,
The most private parts of you exposed.
Ready to be judged, lauged at, criticized,
And loved.

It's like the world is looking at you.
The ugly scar on your chest,
Stretch marks from being spread too thin,
Fat pockets from when you weren't strong.

Someone told me I have a comma problem,
It hurt, like somone telling me I was ugly.

I know I'm beautiful though.
I love my imperfections.
My writing is my own, unique.
No critisizm can stop me from being me.

I lay my words uncovered, unaltered
On the page. They wait, breathlessly.
Sometimes being a poet is hard and brave,
Other times it's fun and easy.

Someone asked me what being a poet is like
I said it was great, and then I started to
Write.

(Undress)