I feel bad for him who waits
at the bench night and day
braving elements of sun and moon
withstanding forces of men and need

I feel sorry for his room that has
paper with faces in one corner
a circle with a dozen numbers in another
with one Space in between
and a hanging open soul in the middle

I feel pity for the one that
has to stand alone to fight
and pick up other's battles
to his last drop of breath

I feel Sorry for his demise
that whatever left that's meaningful
Is useless but only not to him
for his find was nothing but
ancient, rare, dead, and gone.

I feel Nothing for them
who did not see it in the first
but had a blocked rear view
for they faced only their own road

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.

I'm an open book,
dusty, from waiting
for you to read me.

Round and around
to the beat of the sound.
Smaller and smaller
circles bend together.

Words will go to war
The effect on me is bore.
Meaningless fighting
I end up laughing.

From correction publication
to abdominal muscle saturation,
I can't I can't, please I laugh,
my throat, my throat, it's like a giraffe.

Twenty five thousand, maybe a couple hundred,
the Wind puff on the roots, they're as good as dead,
bending towards the weight behind you,
giving within seconds too.

Rain, hail, sleet, and snow
Obviously no evidence of so called "Growth."
Not to mention impossible under
circumstances of watered fertilizer.

Now it's endless net jabbing
and a matter of quickly forgetting.
Living assignments, requirements, deadlines, and submission,
done for days, nothing left to say, I recluse to intermission.

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.

Standing strong on the edge of a cliff,
She braves the blowing waves
Shoulders the crashing wind
Staves off the scorching moon
Basks in the pale sunlight

Her tendril feet will stand firm,
Her skeletal arms will dance,
Her hard, rough body will absorb every blast
As her crunchy, colorful hair ,
will eat up every last bit of light.

This tree is here
*to stay.

She might want to stay
Or she might have to leave
Fudge it might be on May
I dunno what to believe
And it will hurt night and day.

Tear down the crimson curtains and drape them over the sun
Snip the black sheet and let the moon filter its light.
Come, let us take our journey
On this broken path tiled with eighty rocks
Fifty pebbles, and dirt to cement in between
that is Weavingly Split.

Like a dream out of a fantasy novel,
how amazing is the Scenery?
Trees as small as our fingernail, grass as big as our forearms
or plants that waved as we walk past by.

Stopping to catch the lungs we left behind, CHANGE found us.
And in one tick, color became legend as Black and the White spread.
First. Everyone.
Finally. Everything.
Only to have realized that CHANGE, really, was your
Silence.


*Shhhh........

Let me lie on the bed-rock
And cradle all my toys
I don't wanna cross any boundaries
Of stout little boys.

Let me hold on to the darkness
push away the growing light
So don't tell me where, when you
Go left I will go right.

The past few days have been like
a storm inside my blood.
Bringing me up, taking me down
lemme write my heart out.

{chorus}
Weeks without a sight
I wanna know if you're all right
My mind cannot stop wandering
The empty halls of asking
The squirming's very stone wrecked
Oh the past, Deer, what the heck
Dunno why I am this; such a mystery
Is it so difficult to smilingly accept me?

It's a sunny bright afternoon
In a luscious forest of fear
Where rabbits why away
the Moment I draw near

{chorus}

I've run phones with no dialtone
and answered voices of No One
to have heard my neighbors cahtting
to the point their phone bills getting cut.

Oh days where have you gone
when you would have something doing
To keep my eyes off the sun, my ears to the moon
While my body rests in the state called Gloom
where paper is apparently predominant
and the letters I speak are air.
The effort that is cement
is a brittle bendy straw.

So come on, come all
Don't fear Speaking of the Truth
I have readily listened
since the Day began.
I fear this dark bottomless pit
that is split inter-twiningly.
How many a day has it been
since any Sound were heard?

I've fallen on my knees
and blood has spilled
and confusion has run 'round
uncertainty and whatnot but
feeling has never killed.

There is a plank that’s said
To be tacked above my head:
Childish, loser, lazy, annoying,
Incapable, lost, slob, boring

I know, I see,
I understand, I agree.
With tons of effort, for the longest time, I try
Fact: I can and have done so, Easy.

But it’s a tough climb when on me
Are eyes with recognition from many
And their mouths or thoughts open; maybe:
He has 2 sides... A Fakie!
Awkward

Perhaps, perhaps, I think plenty
Flooding in, Negativity
Drowning my rationality
Of an outcome that’s… Pretty?

It's been weeks since I last recognized.
I haven't had a buddy sit across me
Enthusiastically chomping while moving his mouth.
Neither during times when I traverse stretches of land
Have I had a Second to push me along,
at the same time un-bore me.

Yet my problem's solution is simple:
GO out, OPEN the door, LET everyone in and everything out
But that
is not who I am.

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

No one came back
No one came back
To help tend the Living Garden
That all you started in Day One

Soft, green, dancing grass
Tall, wide, shady trees
Cool, fresh, living air
Flowing, rich, clear water

All
This
Left
Behind…

But I thought we all were
Strung together no matter if
‘twas a tug or a yank
Lest it was a snip

‘Twas…

The past flashed before me:
Orange, Yellow, Green, White
THEN
Gray, Brown, Crimson, Black.

for What?

A garden hidden behind a hedge
with vines drooping down from trees
coupled with shoots, erected
like iron bars in a prison

Now only the X-ray can see
Through the denseness

Although
Does not the number of revolutions the hour hand's had have a
Say?

Take me,
Take me back to that day
When those feet would spin
Like a flying dandelion
And those hands would dance
Like a branch dancing in the wind

But I fear,
I fear that would cause a pit
in my gut that would
Scream, Claw, Bite
wanting to come out to
release the anger and frustration
hidden behind these lined walls.

But I control,
I control the Sleeper hoping
that I would not experience such a thing.
So I cut the strings that held
these blinds that keep the light out
so there would be darkness
Forever.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

Surrounded by 3 walls,
he rose from his bed
and shuffled to the front
waiting to be fed

Against steel rod he clanged
routinely with his only ring,
a token from his previous life
one full of fame and bling.

But instead the floors opened
revealing a hole quite small
but enough to escape in
to his home in Montreal

His gut spoke and told him,
"Go! You finally have an opportune clearing"
But The Brain commanded,
"Stay with Know, fear Not Knowing."

There will always be avenues
Glinting and freshly honed
Standing out in the dark for the
Vulnerability that you cant see.
Yet I go the same way
*everytime.

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

The clock strikes deep in the keep
As the ringing of bells invite me
To begin the walk up steps
with a 7 inch concrete seperation
and my fingers grip the rail just
as I reach the top, the door a foot away

Don't hold on, just let go
For a lighter tomorrow.
Fight the fight the fight
Whether you're wrong or right.
The battle or the war or the aftermath
You won't win, so lose to carve your path.
Streak the stars and part the seas,
Let your swag ripple the grass and trees.

The cold air bellows through the keyhole
and the light filters under its feet
the screams of anger tearing my clothes apart
What did I do to deserve this?

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

They claim to strongly stand in what they believe
to set examples for strangers, like what I once was.
And I see them with their wide smiles and hearty laughs
So I approached them only to be hurt by their gaffs.

Oh my... I forgot 'twas their kind from before.
The kind that have hurt me, used me, lied to me,
insulted me, and act plastic to me when it is done.
I'm just an example of their aformentioned fun.

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.

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.