And so my heart tore into two
and the wind blew and blew
and finally the pieces flew

There are roots that
delve deep in our bones,
wrapping us like our skin.
They define who we are.

But,
who am I?

I am learned, sophisticated,
well versed in history and language.
My companions are numbers, papers, pens, and letters.
I drive a fine silk suit: shiny, clean, fragrant...

Though
am I, really?

Or am I
one who acts the opposite?
One who is
surrounded by those who have numbers, papers, pens, and letters as companions
whilst I am with pebbles, leaves, sticks;
driving a worn out hide made from a dying pig.

Or maybe,
I am both...

No.

I am not common folk who act out the Streets
on a home lined with shiny rocks,
smooth paper on a lap,
twinkling fireflies hanging from the roof
whilst displaying what I've learned from being raised around uniforms and books.

Everyone is scared of Death.
I'm petrified of Death.
But am I scared to die?
No,
no, I am not. I welcome the end with open arms.

At night I shudder under my blanket
dreaming of the paths that Death leaves
in its wake.
In the darkness of my room with thunderstorms inside my head,
I fear the hole that is left
after Death has struck.
I wonder what,
who, might come out of it:
Depression, Mourning, Sorrow, Confusion, Emptiness,
and even more Death.

I miss the good old days
when Life could be as easy as
going to bed at night worrying
about what Pokemon version to get,
how to get the latest game console,
what skill in basketball I need to improve in,
when my parents will find out I had an infraction,
how the test next day will go.

But it's funny, Life,
the more you grow in it
the more you approach Death.

What would You do when you can't have someone you want?
Would you
lift a finger and whisk it like a wand
wishing everything would fall in place
the way you'd want it to
in a tick of the clock ,
or,
would you struggle with your brain
between finding a solution
and living inside your head, dreaming of
perfection?

ME

I would get up,
trek to a forest with my trusty machete
and hack away at the thickest bushes I could find.
I'd hack away, hack away,
and ignore the sag from my arms, the stress on my back,
the sweat pouring down my face like water off a cliff,
the unsteady footing caused by wet mud and unsteady, unsure legs.

I would keep hacking until I reach the end of my arduous quest,
where I would come upon a clearing--
A clearing with an aisle made of rose petals
that lead into the center,
surrounded by white chairs and sunflowers.
And Someone would be there,
in a white dress and veil, waiting for me.

They rest all over
whilst I was rooted to the ground,
the water acting like superglue
as my limbs stretched out.

Towards the clumps of land
rods of steal and wood weaved,
to connect and *****
that which we call humanity.

But there were abuse on the rods
formed by hands who'd calloused hearts,
poison coursing through their veins,
but not a single thought was given
for they were innocent in their brain.

Said limbs and rods spiraled out,
as nothing was left to chance,
intertwining everyone's destiny
in majestic flare and grace, grand
like a ballerina's dance.

But the poison was too corrosive,
the termites were too much,
as everything eroded, imploded,
crumbled and buried under
mounds of earth.

But today is different,
a new beginning, a new life.
As if the gods have willed
something better to arrive.

Indeed they came: Ports
forged from purity anew,
where fresh legs are delivered
and old legs whisked away.
For no matter how dark it
was, is, will be,
even during the night,
there always is and will be
a pip of light.

They* drove me across the country,
from the busy city where we departed
to intimate villages where they recessed,
and spent a star filled, moonlit night
singing songs,
their bodies casting long, wavy shadows
from campfires they huddled around.

Just as I got too cold and my wheels
couldn't turn anymore
did they *finally turn the spark plugs,
revving and igniting my despair and sensitivity
producing heat.

Sometimes they pushed
until I shoved
and scraped my rubber
on asphalt,
on rocks,
on sand,
on boulders big and small,
and I hit a flat-line;
the air I could hold in
no longer.

They rode me into a forest
whose undergrowth was as thick
as a bears' fur during the winter,
and redwood that spanned the horizon
you thought it could pat the constellations.
A forest teeming with life that
one would react like Wendy from Peter Pan--
never wanting to leave Neverland.
And I could see it in their
soft faces and squinting eyes,
bright and lit up with joy,
every detail apparent
as if I burst my headlights into high-beam,
directly on them.

It was there I ran out
of gas and my engines
parched for oil,
from the endless adventure
that was exhilarating and memorable.
One could, as a result,
easily forget responsibilities.

There was no service or refill station nearby,
so I was abandoned where I parked,
flat tires, rusty hood, broken chassis,
dilapidated suspension.

I've proved my worth
from when I was brought in
and over time
it wasn't enough.

*Only repairing, never maintaining.

I've dreamed of Irreplaceable
when the light is strong,
hoping when the blackout turns
I'd sleep on something else.

I need to escape my senses
and experience different sensations,
instead of water running through my fingertips
but acid in my veins;
Not soft dancing grass and flowers
or trees that cool me down,
but rocks and boulders who sharpen
and strip me of my flesh.

Seems like I'm on ADD
can't help but move around so much,
strap me down to the gurney
and tear open my painful chest.

Towns are shimmering,
gleaming like Christmas lights,
illuminating the midnight sky.
Kerosene and oxygen, Congratulations
for an excellent performance
on the roofs, windows and walls.
Parties were thrown to celebrate life
by destroying everything that was venerable.
Tussling with each other
on whose new growth to enforce.

It was then, when **** hit the fan
that the people finally gave a ****.

Why, when I know
she doesn't notice me, like me back,
or even realizes I'm a living, breathing being?
Why, when I just end up hurt
as the sun touches lips
with the moon and stars?
Why must I allow little butterflies,
pink purple green yellow red black blue gray,
to flutter inside your stomach?
As if my breakfast this morning
was trying to tell me
something.

I can't control myself,
I can't control my emotion:
Love, Hate, Jealousy.
They spill out of my heart, pour into my mind,
changing the way
I think, live life,
act and behave,
my personality;
A broken version of who I am,
who I really am.
Or was.

So yes, I have
a crush.
Because there's something with it,
something that is so...
a d d i c t i n g.

The pain I'm anticipating,
Being hurt as constantly as the moon
changes its face.
A constant flare of excitement,
being able to look at her face again and
Hope.
Hope to be able to get that face time with her.
Even if her time is mine no more,
(it never was)
as others are her time now.

But I want to be happy (at least appear that way)
in front of her so she too
can flash her pearly whites
as her eyes wrinkle from a wide grin,
sometimes a tear rolling down her
soft smooth cheeks
from too much laughing.

All these presents wrapped nice and tight
in one gigantic wrapping
of Disappointment.
And rightfully so,
now that the happy holidays are upon us.

"I could
tie a plastic zip tie to my wrist
real tight until the veins pop out
just like a blood test
when the nurse
ties your arm with a rubber band.
All so that i could pull a blade
from its dull rotten scabbard,
purposely rusty but very sharp
and slice right through the plastic
into my pale green flesh.
Make it look like an accident,
An act of carelessness,
A fools play time with plastic and knives."

Today was the first time,
in a very long time,
to re-entertain dark mischievous
thoughts.
Thoughts on taking what wasn't,
isn't, and won't ever be
Mine to begin with--
My Life.

It is owned by,
represented with
three circles:
Red, Blue, and Yellow.
But it,
I,
was never fully accepted,
almost shedding tears
in a cell full of strangers,
strangers i somehow knew
but
Strangers all the same.

What got me through
was a hopeful bubble
that at each day's end,
I'm reincarnated into a different world,
A virtual one,
Escaping my past life of which I am residing in.
    
     An assasin running through rooftops,
     A lone wolf learning to survive in a fictitious world,
     A super soldier shooting bad guys all night long
     Or straight up controlling the mind of a completely different being
     (Thank the heavens for video games).

But this is in no way
A solution.
It is temporary,
not an end
to a new beginning.

Take a look inside my home:

I live in a Dream because Reality
hurts
leeched on by long tendrils and roots
wrapping, resting
around my nervous system
that plant seeds in my mind,

"She's so *fly,
perfectly alike,
On the call, on the go for
me,
no questions asked.
Our personalities
bare and unmasked."

But only inside my head
can this hopeless reality be watered.

I have yet to find the exact
size, length, width, weight, height,
of my rusted trusty nail, which I lost.
Painted golden brown
and rough on the edges,
that old man pinned my door to the wall.
Now it's left hanging in the open
dangling in the wind
swaying with the broken rain,
my home
vulnerable,
a feasty treat,
like the first time Hansel and Gretel saw the witch's house.

I'm not afraid of the
teeth baring wolves
bloodcurdling hounds with red eyes
massive 10 foot hungry bears
that tower over you with outstretched paws
holding a steak knife and fork
its brown fur a bib.
No

I'm afraid of my house
zipping up its backpack
filled with all the canned goods
fresh water canteens from the well
and all the matches and firewood in the cellar
taking off during the night
when the moon is at its darkest,
leaving I,
to do the only thing left:
To pay the bright orange flames
to entertain me as
my wads of money lit up the
darkest night of the century
all because I couldn't replace my

*most dear, loved, precious
nail.

It's so hard to forget the pain
that is sourced inside my heart
when you also bring me
peace and joy.
Pain is addicting.

It's so hard to be honest
after all I've known is to pull up
the strings on both ends of my mouth
and smile so that whenever the doctor came he could say,
"Son, you're perfectly fine." (#AccordingToPlan)
I wanted to keep you smiling, no matter what.

It's so hard ******
to keep looking at you, knowing
life will or will not change
for better or worse.
No one can say for no one has the answer
to the future.
I cannot stay bitter or frustrated for more than a day.

It's so hard to release the pressure off my chest
like a gas tank relief valve
after all the emotions that have amassed
with no other option for alleviation until now.
Thank God for HP.

It's so hard, I feel left out
It's so hard to know what to do
It's so hard to let go,
*I think I'm in love with you.

We all want to feel like flashing lights
but we're just stained silverware:
rusty, dusty, *****,
old, unappreciated,
hidden deep inside the closet.
We're only good for certain occasions
when we're brought out
handled with care, doused in vinegar
scraping the age of our backs
bringing us into Life, anew.

Yet some sets fit certain settings.
Appetizer? Main Course? Dessert? Dish Washer? Dropped on the floor?
Sometimes none at all because
we can be "made in china"
or from fine china.

And I hated the feeling I got
sitting in the middle of the table like a tuning fork
where everyone was passing food around
and I was just vibrating in their rhythm and sound.
I've been through many sets
much not quite like this.
Still life repeats itself like history
speaking of which, is actually me.

I've been held but never used,
maybe I have but not in the right way.
I was made to look like a fool
and I feel
**just.
that.

I'm thriving in a prism.
Colors can't blend,
light turns into shards
(they beat excruciatingly across my chest).

I wish to be blinded
instead I'm living dead.

Leave Jealousy be.
It'll burn a hole in your gut
And flip your world upside down as if it was already like this from the start.
It'll last forever.
your predicaments will triple each time you age
And there wont be a pen and paper lying around to help solve your equations

Trust me.
Ive been living where my chest is the center of gravity
Between the sun and the rest of the solar system.
Impossible it is to describe this push-pull phenomenon, from top to bottom.

So turn on the tv
Plug in the XBox
Play some basketball or hockey
Grind them Shooter games
or even watch Netflix.

Leave Jealousy be,
Trust me,
I've finished one Leap Year Cycle completely.

Run, don't ever stop.

This is a tribute to the man
who believed in me and told me,
"Fly. Spread your injured wings. I wanna see you
F##king soar!"*

I've woke up everyday dreading life as it ignored me
seeing the different views and points I realized living is scary.
I've thought of giving up not once,
but twice or more sounds like it
but I never gave in to the sleep I was promised
I fought it like I was crazy.

I thought I'd get high for once and stay at home relaxing
sleeping through the pills I entered the world of virtual living.
But that wasn't enough to rid me of Earth
the core hauled me back into reality.
My mind ceased to think
and my thoughts, they turned into veggies.

But thank you, sir, for the fuel I'm ready to go
for once in a lifetime now I surely know
where to go from here, the direction to face
no matter the consequence that lies in place
I've learned to follow the calling of my heart
ignoring the cries of the world when I depart.

The journey is the struggle between two realities
finding what to bring, what to leave behind, that is my identity.
The puzzles that fit will find their way
to fill in the road that isn't my escape
but rather to help me along the journey to Destiny.
But just like Cinderella's shoe
if it don't fit, it's not for me.
This is my world now.

NO matter* what they say
the wheel will spin only one way.
Despite numerous patented attempts
I fail so I let it be
only for it to cut me.
At this point it's a choice
to wake up the next day.

Get off my mind
I can't sleep at night
I've been staring into Space that reach as far as the constellations
only seeing you.

My imagination is playing tricks on me
running scene after scene of what could be.
Conscious or subconscious, your beauty
paralyzes whatever rationale part of my being is left.
We still have a long way to go...
*Please, don't leave

I've seen what lies behind Words,
how everyone has given life to them with the push of a button
and I've seen first hand what it's done to
Me.

I could feel the words drag my heart
deep into the fiery acids of my stomach.
Life screamed like a child,
running up and down my throat,
waiting for an inevitable accident.
My gut wrenching out the food I had for dinner
while strangers around me were screaming
frantically,
"Call a doctor! SOMEBODY!!!"

It's been ages since it last happened to me.
The pain never taught me well,
my heart never learned (it never does)
for once it is full
it never
ever
lets go-
      Having the peace of thought of having to look forward to
      hearing her mellow voice jazz up the morning
      seeing her beautiful smile radiate the darkest corners
      feeling her laughter massage the stress off my back
      smelling her fragrance chilling the goosebumps on my skin or
      tasting the freedom surrounded by her warm embrace

(Recalling these memories)
My heart rate further dropped
STILL
all my eyes could see was her face,
all my eyes could do was grasp whatever fragments remained as the vision of her drifted away
all my eyes could ever accomplish was blind my brain.

Your resume has spoken
And everybody cracked
under the pressure of holding it back
Because this right here is what you call
A cookbook
Where like-minded fools can read and understand.
Look,
Your history grade is historical
Critical thinking astronomical
I'm lol-ing right now over the joke you've grown up to be
Unable to understand any text hidden between the lines,
Your beauty hidden behind the vines.
Copyright borderline infringing, certain words not phrases
Th-th-the laughter. Its killing me!

Oh Dear Martha.....
HA HA HA Haaaaallelujah
Your face..... so stoic
Or maybe its my reflection bouncing of your heart
Ironic
that you even have one
Did you steal it? Or buy it?
Cuz the last time i checked the bank never had
Any money you kept because everything was spent
On time the-watcha-ma-call it-
Greatest Investment?
Withdraw from the process of creativity:
fixing and healing broken things that had nothing to do with your years
you can't have it all, that's the world of reality.

My oh my
I should've given an "F" a few doors ago (a long while it's been)
otherwise B. S. Relations wouldn't be so bad
not to mention the problem with your height:
You inability for growth
and be able to see from the other side.

Dear dear dearest Martha,
I'm sorry...
Please do accept this "letter of apology"
take this as your first lesson in the workplace,
(take it from me however you want it
I've been through the darkest and the brightest)
there's the door.

"Next!"

Multiply "Really" a million times
over and over,
I still cannot describe my
Hatred
for a field full of flowers
of different colors and species
and bees flying around, sharing pollen with everyone else
Giving life to Life and Growth.

Because in the midst of it all was me:
A STONE

                                                         *Alone
                                                         Left Out
                                                         Isolated.

Why are you so quick to believe
everything that you see
like water from a fountain without a filter?

Cannot there be a chance for speech to flow
and dissect the bits and bytes
of information?

NO

Instead feel by memory you will the others
who are of a second nature; not
those by heart.

We have stood on this rock
watching me dive deeper
into *a screaming headache.

I will run away from my Young Nature
due to the lack of human interaction.
I cannot speak, for nothing comes out
‘tis my struggle to interact with this generation.

Until the sun sets I am left alone
with my thoughts and feelings.
Then comes the realization that the
Only Treasured Interaction I had was fleeting.

They can see and hear
my hints, ever so subtle
but They is they, now
there are new Others to Juggle

Moving is not my way of escape in fact
I’m running towards my Source of Pain, not away.
Nevertheless, through this I’ll surely grow
Through pain, need, and desperation every day.

This plan will **** the life from my chest
As the old one hit the fan and went awry.
This’ll be for the best; for the new, future Others that
I'll never again be in a position of needed/permanent goodbye

Opening my eyes
kills me on the inside
and it's my strength
to part my lips wide
that lurches me forward.

Opening my eyes
is like opening a dam
on the edge of a waterfall
but without any
water or life.

And for what?
*I. Don't. Know.

Stop those vibrating lips
from littering
all over the floor.

*Literally.

Sprinkle the salt
Dress the pain
Forgive, never forget
understand life's lane.

I'm tired of hearing carcasses that spit out of mouths
I'm tired of baking outside, my feet fried to the cement
I'm tired of having to hide under a hood from humans
I'm tired of waiting for my birthday card every Christmas
I'm tired of having enough rest that my brain functions to tell me
*I'm *really tired

I sat on the age worn bench
Steaming waffles on my hand
chocolate dripping down its side
in the middle of barren land.

Like a spotlight, my head
search out for living company
my neck swiveling
I found myself, myself only.

So my search went deep
to find something of want
in the middle of intense heat
where life isn't Daunt.

In my dark, blood vessels
I found satisfaction
from nowhere came
Busy Passion.

I have rolled four big wheels
hung on a freaking clock tower
Unsheathed a million craps
I still have zero power.

Consider, I fought on top
of War ongoing,
despite the pain
which I kept hiding.

Still the world shunned
the movement I rippled
cuz they don't give a ****
even after I've made myself a *******.

Oh, I'm sorry, has peace been signed?
Hmmm.... a sense of dejavu, I think.
I remember what history has shown:
Always being signed by ******* ink.

I 'm dreaming, wondering
if
you'll be crying
past my deathbed.

Days have gone
When the night's still young
My name is called
and it's time to be old

Sleep the rest off
Sync my heart to my mind
Let the boiling blood chill
Escape my life's thrill

Starve my stomach
of the food I crave
Drink water and satisfy
Addiction that's turned into lie

*The tingles are right every time
as I dive into my pool of Thought