I asked my God
to set me free
she said she couldn’t
yet.

My fate and
destiny is greater
but I can’t accept.

Whats the cost of life?
Whats the price of death?
I’m in the market,
wheres the auction
I place my bets.

The sermons
growing darker
but its winter
so its fitting

and its daunting
but living
just causes pain.
Can’t find my way

Do I love life? Yes.
Do I hate death? No.
Its a ritual and cycle
and I play my role.

Suicide
been on my mind
since I was 15,
but I was too weak
The end is tempting.

This depression got me hostage
through a void I am falling
and I don’t care when I land
no no

If I lose life tomorrow
don’t count me in your sorrow
just move on and let me be

Set me free
Set me free

Paradoxes I’m living
I think need some religion
or stupid guidance
fore suicide pays me a visit

Here am I love
discovering that distance
caught attention of lust
and if our moment infinite
only her eyes I trust.

She was meant for me.
Desire exponentially
grows into a sunflower
where beauty meets its destiny.
Eden in her garden
Aphrodite laying next to me
can’t ignore the Goddess
now ingrained into my memory.

Am I obsessive?
Or were we meant to meet
and become each others possessions.

I need her kiss to now remove the doubt
She needs my lips to end her draught
together lose our sanity
and love each other right amounts.

Overdue this love has been
despite my patience growing thin
I crave for touch of hers on skin
the one who taught me how to love again.


www.soundcloud.com/zedler/sets/bwa

Do not treat education as business.
They’re making millions off children
who reside in subsidized housing.

They're making millions off children
who ask mother "what's for dinner?"
even though it's 10:00 pm
and the lack of food in their stomach
has given them a hint as to what the answer is.

They’re making millions off children
who’ll end up dead or in jail before they’re 18.
If you don’t care or if you’re okay with that,
then just keep quiet.

Keep your opinions to yourself.
We’re all entitled to our own.
Quite frankly, I am not offended.
All I ask is that you don’t tell me
it's wrong to want change.

The education system in this country
is bound to fail many, but that does not mean
that I have to as well.
Do not tell me I can't cause change.

Started off in the [clouds]
and after falling and crashing down,
touched the roots of a redwood.

Now with the help of giraffes
I scale it's back as I'm looking
to climb my way up the trunk.

Branch after branch,
contact causing
****, hoping no one
stops my conquest
and burns this tree to ash.

Talking to fauna,
birds chirp, to attempt
continuing this saga,
after she left I reduced to
nothing but a larva, as I now
undergo the metamorphosis,
similar to that of Kafka's.

Trauma induces this  
determination, of being reunited
in clouds with her creation,
and if up there nothing for me
is waiting, then abort mission,
swing towards a new notion,
and from the the clouds
I'm perched upon, jump
and plummet into the [ocean].

25 hours pass before
the tip of the tree is reached
and as the sun rises, I realize
I'm above the horizon and
on clouds perched I instantly
recognize the eyes hidden
under eyelids.

Finally we've met again,
tragic ending as I reach for
her to grab my hand.
Unstably standing on this branch
and as she hands me hers, she
retreats and pulls back.

Slipping, she let me fall
and midair I hear my heart
crack, falling thousands of feet,
I'm thinking of the love she couldn't
keep, and before the impact a thought passes my head; so honest.
Humans like myself, too ambitious in their conquest,
meant to stay at trunk of trees, and clouds, strictly homes for a goddess.

Detain, and explain to the public,
why these rhymes seem so redundant.
[two] for the second letter of the alphabet, the woman
I haven't crashed out of love yet.

Bear with me if it seems amiss,
[five] for the encounter where I finally
placed a kiss on her lips.
Wishing I wasn't missing.

To review, ink contained in pages
of the book labeled as [two], there's
a poem written by the name of [sleep],
written after the events in the previous stanza,
which after, of reality I got a grip
and coincidentally this poem in her
direction written was also the fifth.  

As well as [two] being the book
published by my hand as number [five],
I slowly see the everlasting love starting
to die.

Aren't quite finished yet,
as none of it I regret.
To me my favorite and always the best,
struggling to write, as my heart pounds
and causes friction with my chest.

Met on the twentieth day of November,
contains a [two], but that might be a stretch,
as I find more reasons to love her while
smoking this cigarette.

If counting November as number one,
It took us [seven] months to become one;
addition of [two] and [five].

Letting a lot of details go by,
but if my math is correct,
that would mean that May was the
month we began a relationship.

May being the fifth month of the year
and I know this last fact about my baby seems crazy,
but having ripped this heart and
having it served on plate, I learned to
believe in fate, both embarked love and
sailing on a relationship, was none
other than May on the on the day of the
[twenty-fifth].

Controversy started over the images this device receives. Hormones control this impulse, she's making each ***** convulse, and I can tell I'm still in love by the palpitations of my pulse.

Thus, proving that her actions indicate the prequel to her return. Her affection distant but still yearn, expressing sentiments, guess I'll never learn, spoken without biting my tongue
and now it's your turn.

Conquer hearts and take over,
**** her off when I'm not sober,
**** her off when thoughts become somber, **** her off when I say I won't be here much longer, **** her off for many reasons, **** her off once during every season and **** her off the most when in myself I stop believing.

Her perfection an extension of accessible recollection, to the woman who despises the notion of wearing articles of clothing.

Not the best at displaying her emotions, so in combination the words she's chosen seem broken, unable to withhold the growth of sentiments cut at the root, and as they now reproduce, sunflowers inhabit her garden and all the revelations of truth.

Lapse of time passes, lasting longer
than activities that involved
me being on her.

Inappropriately timing events perfectly.
Summer seems to have visited me in the fall, her memories now more than ever I recall and wishing I wasn't missing the woman who had it all.

Concluding it's a blessing, for continuing to have your presence present, writing by only depending on your recollection, and since poetry is my obsession, make new memories with me as I practice the act of ceding back to a former possessor, definition of recession.

Out of despair I've broken
the glass protecting this mind
from our memories, as we see
each recollection begin to leak,
your thought, once again
impossible to make hearts retreat.

The explanation I'm deserved;
forgotten, as it's now stained with forgiveness,
in order to attempt a different tactic at recapturing
the heart, of which a picture, I keep in this attic.

Can you read the words
of this asthmatic?
That my voice is finally
calm and not frantic.
Hate my enemy, to it,
no longer an addict.
That to you this seems
as me trying to keep
sparks lit with static.

Correct you are lovely lady,
and if you read this in content, get in contact
with man whose name begins with a consonant,
keep communication constant and let us
learn to walk before jogging.

At the moment too overwhelmed and
if the tattooed [two] were to appear
I'd steer the [conversations] onto revealing
I'm held up in investing a relationship with fame.

The pieces are starting to fall into place.
I'd tell you in detail,
but for now I'll keep this tongue tamed.

Gripping dark leaded pencils
with tips as sharp as the razors
estrogen slit their wrists with.

Mischief produced
due to the size this heart
has been reduced to,
and deduce that she left
after growing weary
of the same being she's seduced.

Serotonin levels low.
Drugs will bring them up,
and perhaps under their
influence this [derelict]
will encounter the verb ****.

Endless void of
disappointments have
left him poignant, causing
an appointment to sell souls
to fictional individuals.

Admire the horizon while
he's wasting time rhyming.
Crying to keep haunting
spirits alive and using them in
literature in pitiful attempts to thrive,
simply to leave the entire world who's
abandoned him behind.

27 club. Second attempt
at having [conversations] with death.

Taking [love], and together
we build, mold and shape a new definition
to the archaic word that must've existed before
Eve could even describe what she was feeling.

Absence makes the heart grow strong
and right now it seems as though I've grown fond
of someone who is just shy of perfection.  

Recollection of every memory in my possession,
growing anxious knowing when
our love she'll once again start addressing.

Count the sunsets and
sunrises we've missed seeing,
due to all the time we've spent dreaming
with our eyes wide open.

Successfully conquered someone's else's heart and
although it all starts to fall apart I wonder if gaining
the strength to ignore faults can be used
to hold up the stars.

Create the sky with the color of ink
that reflects the night and look up at it
for answers to finally stop asking [why]

Inspired by the same muse who's forced me
to abuse the pen held by my fingers, and yes,
their thoughts continue to linger on the one girl who causes
them to speak a 4 letter idiom that begins with the letter [L].

To others it's just a word but her name
is synonymous to love and discovery
of that to me, means the world.

Writing this as the stars settle.
The eve of the 25th. Heart inhaling love
letting down its armor, and I realize that without
her my organs won't function for much longer.

Fingers continue to whisper.
Fingers linger longer
and these strokes serve as
exercise to make them stronger.  

Practice makes perfect and when
practicing on a perfect canvas leads to
writing beautiful verses in cursive.

Before we fall asleep she kisses every
finger as a beautiful gesture to assure
that, these same fingers reproduce the
familiar and extravagant pleasure.

Fingers speak in a language I can't
comprehend, but only her body can
understand and if these same fingers
that squeeze this pencil tip are guilty of
letting her relish moans and sighs
gasping for air, then accept my
apologies for getting the public involved
in my affairs.

Fingers continue to whisper as they
speak softly to the goosebumps present
on her body. Fingers continue to
whisper, and without my muse these
urges to write I keep I fighting. Fingers
continue to whisper telling me to keep
writing.

[time]

Someone suggested it wouldn't last
long. Give it a couple months and see
that she held my hand last week and
said that she wouldn't give up on me.  

Her words I love and her voice calms
each nerve, and it brings me joy to see
her smile after hearing the
accompanying sound known as laughter.

Count every time I've made your heart
skip a beat and if the answer is five;
realize that it's no coincidence that
you're now a part of my life.

Time flies by so let's detain it and hear
every tick blaring in our ears
so we can learn to appreciate it and
retain exactly what it is that's passing by so fast.

Each poem an accompaniment and
dedication in developing my appreciation
to the muse whose perfection has
engrained itself within my retinas.

She's fallen asleep as I write this which
is just part of our routine. She'll be up
around 8 with a response that'll make
my day before it's started.

Poems that you inspire correlate with
my suspicion. Beauty radiates from your
presence and take this poem as a
present for keeping my heart mended
in the present.

Ending this poem is difficult.
Similar to when we part ways after
experiencing the most amazing day.

Remember each moment. Treasure each
memory. Experience each emotion in
due time and knowing how amazing it is
to know that it's you I'm with as it races by.

Accustumed to the taste
of kisses laced with cigarettes.
Still wondering if I'm in love yet,
but sure of [two] being my favorite
letter in the alphabet.

A kiss on each lip.
Mind stops thinking
once hands reach her hips.

Previous verse too explicit.
Lost the license to my innocence.
Missing her precious presence in
this instance and as I yearn for her to not
be so distant I'm taught to balance the
act of being patient.

Distinguished marks on necks
show others where our night led
and if this is the way we're starting
I wonder what step for us is next.

Body has become a canvas that she
uses to mark her territory, and she
reveals her desires to see me have
become unhealthy.

Unconsciously feeling guilty for making
her become addicted to each letter
I write her. Personal like a writer and
creating circuits made of love with this
pen I call a wire.

Last verse. Do the words make it better
or worse? Would you care to take the
burden of breaking this curse? Falling in
love for the second time. [two] more than
just a letter and ever since you showed
up its all been a bit better.

Golden ratio.
Divine proportion.
Take the length of a;
measure the distance of
[b] and [c] and divide it
once by  [1.62]

Yielding perfection with faults
and if Aphrodite appears before
me to say that I'm wrong
I'll stare her in the eyes and tell her
due to time someone possessing
greater beauty came along.

Comparing the one whose holding my heart captive
to the goddess whose caused fixation and induced
men to go mad and if that's my intended path
then tell them with no hesitation that a mad man I am.

A Greek goddess whose remains are nothing
but a memory ingrained in a statue and in
comparison [two] is giving Aphrodite's name justice
and stating her being is the definition of a living goddess.

[25] a number which marks the
beginning of something new.
Ironically containing the both the
numbers [five] and [two].

Green light.
Driving [five] miles
over the limit and if
accelerating gets me there
faster it's worth risking the ticket.

Holding on to time tight
as we race by each light
on our way to routinely
ending our perfect night
and if what we're doing is
wrong then I don't want
to be right.

Bright light shines yellow.
Speed right past it. Moving so fast
I'm stuck wondering where my past went.

She's removed it from my memory
and the present is what matters. I made some stupid comment
but am repaid by hearing her laughter.

Coincidence isn't what happened and I'm not sure if I believe in destiny
but the girl I've dreamed of is sitting right next to me.
Looking into the horizon my mind comes up with an idea as
I begin to press on the brakes.

The car comes to a stop
and before I look in her direction I realize the
stars look beautiful tonight.
With my only motive being
stealing kisses at a red light.

Lungs are full of sludge and it's getting harder to breathe. Tripped in quicksand and its all the way past my sleeve as I sink lower and take at last look at what is surrounding me. My body is being crushed and I just want someone to set me free.

Recollect each memory held dear to me and wondering in my last moments what mark on humanity I've chosen to leave.

Sand consuming  my torso. The one she held onto while we kissed and wiggling to much so quickly I start to sink.

The sand at level with my back as I recall the times she left a scratch because she could never see me without leaving a mark or keeping my body intact.

Sand up to my neck while I refer to the burgundy erupted blood vessels that with her lips shes disturbed and because of it I can only hear her moans and not words.

Sand up to my lips and happiness enters my forsaken body as I recall that hers were the last ones I kissed.

Sand now over my head and in our moment of death we refer to the past and learn to love each moment in time. Safe to say that in my moment of death she was the only one on my mind.

Mind racing at [fifty]
miles an hour while I start
to lose track of each hour
I've spent with the mistress
that placed my heart in
her garden of sunflowers.

Sunlight accelerating
photosynthesis while developing
a thesis as to why all these pieces
are perfectly falling into place.

Chasing love is what I'm known for
and she finally slowed down enough for me to catch her.

To think that there could be a day where each of
these poems she'd grow to hate, triggers minds to raceand doing everything I can to make sure that no one takes her place.

Hope I'm not being too possessive even though
I'm known to be obsessive and keeping everything else bottled up
so please excuse if every kiss leads to something aggressive.  

Every kiss bursts a leak,
surroundings become mute as  her moans
become the only language allowed to speak.

Stopping myself from revealing
details classified as intimate,
and I'm convinced this is love
it's just that I'm a little new to it.

I'm learning to record this story with ink and permanent print
so that when solitude moves back in
I can refer back to your memory and hold on to it.

Trying to end this poem perfectly
and I don't know about you,
but the closest thing to perfect
begins with the letter [two]

Hold your tears back
for as long as you can.
Please, don't cry come
here and hold my hand.

Sitting on that stage
you admire your surroundings
and the routine that you'll grow to miss and as you wait for your name to be called you unconsciously reminisce.

****** this final moment in the establishment that's become your second home. Hug this juncture tight, hold it and never let go.  

Look out to the audience of strangers and after scanning the room, find the tear filled eyes that belong to the members that have seen your entire life go by and to them this day is a reminder of wings have been attached to a clock and concluding that in fact time does fly.

You've moved a step forward and life won't be the same, but after the round of applause your daydream is abruptly ended and it's your turn to walk the stage after the microphones echoes project your name.

[sleep]

She keeps me from sleep.
Any other night it wouldn't matter
but tonight it's what I need
in order to memorize the memories.

Slowly I thought I'd lose her
so impulse became to consume me
and after she called my bluff
I rushed off to see her beauty.

If love is meant to be it'll come back.
Seven months did prove that.
Met her in [november] and lost contact.
She returned, showed interest and my heart crashed.

She's gorgeous and it's hard to believe
she chose me, and that
night I drove out to be able to see
the most astonishing smile
that was put there because of me.

In love again but surprisingly it feels different. T
he type of love one reads about.
The type of love I'm writing about.
The type of love we all dream about
and the type of love I'm experiencing now.

Appreciate every hour spent.
Right now we've spent around twenty two
together in five encounters and
the fifth was my favorite because
this love didn't become mine but ours.

It's way more than writing lines.
No coincidence that this poem
to you is number five.

Penultimate verse. I know you
understand every word.
For you every word in my vocabulary I've used
and yes I do agree that you are my favorite muse.

I've created a moment with her at last
and I knew I had achieved it when
she whispered after I kissed her that
her heart was beating too fast.

Tears shed over a voice
that belongs to a person
you've never met.

She understands how you feel
and her words you will never forget.
Regret falling in love with
the voice of a stranger.

You share qualities in common
like the abilities to spill ink
over paper. Minds that are so alike
and considered neighbors.

Qualities that qualify us as a writer.

Where did she acquire
the skills that have made her famous?
Where did I discover the ability
to publish pages?

Every piano key she strokes
chokes the life of another note
and her talent produces something
beautiful nonetheless.

See her perform live at Joe's Pub
by my lonesome. Appreciate her art from a distance.
Hear her voice echo off the walls inside the venue.

Hear her pour something into a microphone
as it translates her emotions into sounds.
Watch as ears react and eyes water.
Streaming river of tears that I decide
to follow.

Voice travels through my head.
Disturbs something along the way.
Triggers emotions to begin
and memories replayed.

Rip the veins of my pen and watch the ink spill onto this page.
Don't regret the ****** because I'm making art.
Display it to the world and watch them pick it apart.

You are my biggest influence and this session is here to show it.
Thank you for the music and the songs that you've recorded.
I really hope to meet you. Work with you surely.
You are the definition of talent. Thank you, Birdy.

Deprived of love.
Frustration settles
nests within my mind
as I long to spend time
with the muse who pushes
me to write this line.

Hoping to place a kiss on the lips
that forces me to write about [anagrams] and [clouds]
before time runs out.

Feels horrible when we don't speak.
So much left to say but
she probably won't stay until forever.

I want to tell her that
through my mind she runs
but I swallow it all and
continue to bite my tongue.

I'm awkward, anxious, and
annoying and at the
moment she's capable
of keeping me stable.

Really wanted to see her today
and the frustration starts to add up
and I wonder if [fourteen]
cursed my heart from ever encountering love.

Asking if the letter [b] could be
the beauty responsible
for causing this curse to be broken.

Sorry for being the most annoying
human being on the planet and
I understand if you can't stand it
and my words have a tendency of
being redundant and repugnant.

Hoping she doesn't fall in love with
what I write and fall in hate with who I am.

Fixated on thing that don't belong to me
and nothing else is going well
and she's the only one that makes me happy.

Avoid getting ahead of myself
so let me stop writing and shut up.
She feels the same about me
so why does doubt keep coming up?

Plummeting into love too quickly
isn't new to me. It's always strange
but familiar.

Ranting at the moment cause her
love has left the door to my heart open
and if I could make the choice about
who to fall in love with I know
she's the one I would've chosen.

Doubt starts to leave the picture
as I see myself now being with her
and consider the love she delivers
as her voice carries effects of elixirs.

Beauty in every feature.
Every question digs deeper
into finding out who created such
a beautiful creature.

I write this at night.
Read it throughout the morning
and refer back to it when
your day is getting boring.

Longing to show her affection.
She's genuine and my heart
no longer needs protection.

Her syllables make up words
I won't ever forget and the
feelings she's left me with I won't ever regret.

The molecule responsible for making
me fall in love is present again
and I believe it's effects
are being accelerated by oxygen.

Potentially attempting to mend every
crack that's left you broken
and falling in love is something that I've chosen.

Here to lift your spirits
if something negative ever gets near it
and please don't hesitate to call
if there's something that you're fearing.

This one isn't the best.
I apologize if you don't love it
and really am sorry for sounding
so ******* redundant.

Letting myself get carried
away because nothing
between us is official
but I'll continue to write
her poems and title this one
after her initials.

She condensates
a cloud of confusion
while her presence
continues protruding
from thoughts.

Not enough memories so the mind
can only replay the same  clips
and as I start to fall in love I can't
keep her name from my lips.

Only have we met while audio
is being played out of monitors.
Don't want to ruin this yet
so let me slow down as my heart
I begin to monitor.

Studying her words for a deeper meaning.
Consume this love and realize my words are a drug.

Keeping you up from sleep
as it's effects cause
you to grind your teeth.

The past I kicked to the curb.
They yell that my words
for her are absurd.

Admiring beauty.
Hung up on her like
I'm standing on the stool with
the rope necklace around my throat.

No time wasted.
Love is served for dessert
and I want to taste it.

[momma] just listen I'm in love.
You don't have to be worried.
She's beautiful and I know exactly what I'm pursuing.
You don't have to worry this time I know what I'm doing.

Hopefully this situation
doesn't become a mess.
And if it's consolation
just know that none of it is in jest.

Didn't mean to bother you like spam
but if you think this poem is about you
figure it out like an [anagram].

If [fourteen] letters deep
causes me to hold
on to the love I wish to keep,
then let emotions slowly corrode
while I walk down this lonely road.

She told me our love was silent.
Phrases in ink became violent.
I thought me and her would be timeless,
forgot to count to a
month and our time left.

No bitter emotions.
Memories span as far as the ocean.
Loves definition includes never being with the one
you want and if it's so then call [momma] and
tell her that I'm in love.

The sun rises earlier.
Summer is in the distance
and your mind relates to the past
for an instant.

Never will it repeat itself.
Hold on to the memories instead.
Remember them from time to time
and lock them inside my head.

Wondering if these poems for you will ever end
and torturing my thoughts in contemplating
if this is the end of perfect story
or the beginning of a beautiful tragedy.

Divorce my thoughts from your mind
and leave my pitiful memory behind.
Her presence is what I lack
and wondering if there's a way of
winning every minute I had with her back.

Feel every heartbeat  
rush blood through my veins.  
Quickly grab the needle  
and inject a dose of hate.  

Hate harbored for years.  
Hate towards his peers.  
Hate toward his father.  
Hate towards every failed  
attempt at love.  

Hate as far as his ears can see,  
and just if it isn't enough, snort  
another line of jealousy.  
He doesn't feel so good  
and starts glowing  
green with envy.  

Roll up all that passion  
and slowly start to smoke it,
and you're choking  
on the toxins as their  
effects start showing.    

Start decoding  
every word he writes about.  
Reasoning behind it all.  
He's reached his peak so far  
and probably will experience the fall.  

He's made a lot of mistakes
and writing was his first.

Haphazard messages.
Sporadic encounters.
Seldom do I receive a
response after I reply,
but maybe we’re both
just playing to watch
the time fly by.

Even if us talking is some strange
distraction that will only last for a while,
I can’t keep hiding that every word
directed in my direction makes me smile.

Unless this is in fact a game,
in which case this poem
seems kind of stupid,
but someone out there shot an arrow
and now I realize it was Cupid.

A smile so contagious,
her radiance enormous,
and eyes can be described
as something greater than
gorgeous.

Excuse the abruptness,
for being intense and zealous,
but her effortless beauty
is abundant; Aphrodite’s jealous.

You’ve caught my attention,
but you might not want to keep it.
And I truly understand if this poem is better
off being deleted.

Please promise me you’ll read it.
It’s 5am right now and I honestly can’t
wait for you to see it.

Allow time to pass and let emotions settle.
Let her love naturally get you
higher than the song of a kettle,
and admire the details of her
beauty as you would a rose’s petal.  

Rejection is what I’ve expected,
but regardless I’ll probably make the stupid
mistake and take a risk.
Even though this record
player is tired of scratching the same disk.

I hope this poem is good enough.
Who knows? Maybe you’ll think it’s nice.
Maybe she’ll make my heart beat again
by melting its jagged layer of ice.

Admitting I have a crush on
someone I’ve only met twice.

Failure's in your future
so sit down and wait
until it's delivered.

Let's ****** your dreams
and watch them plummet
straight into the dirt
and wait until they decompose
and cease to exist.

[breath]

You're nothing but a failure in the making.
Your insignificant accomplishments
have bloated your reality and
have opened the door to hope
that still manages to spill
throughout
your mind and
contaminate the truth.

[breath]

You still live in the same spot.
You haven't left. You've stayed in your own tiny city still
trying to impress the same type of people, but you didn't
expect them to leave so soon. See them move on while they
forget you and slowly your entire environment changed.

[breath]

We've dealt with your nonexistent career.
Should we move on to your love life? You fell in love over the
summer and after she left you, you became so bitter you couldn't let
go of her memory and decided to ruin her name to
everyone around you. Blowing it all out of proportions
just so you can look like a victim.

[breath]

So after becoming so involved in your made up reality you
decide to give up on everything around you. You disappear and
nothing holds value to you anymore. Then, you feel like you should
escape your reality and moving two thousand miles away seems
the only way to make you happy.

[breath]

Oh. But you found love again didn't you? You are on step one aren't you?
She's your inspiration right now isn't she?
She gives you hope and her beauty makes you happy.
The results of this imbecilic attempt leads to your heart
being ripped out of its rib cage and after being crushed by her
foot full of rejection you sit there and your insignificant
hope begins to evaporate.

[breath]

You lose focus and nothing can gain it back in time
for the most important week of your short life.
You fail as well and
while you struggle to find why
it is that this is occurring an idea
that I have planted begins to sprout.

You've considered it. You've agreed to it.
You can only look in my eyes as I smile.
Climb on the stool and focus your eyes on the ground.

[Expected your own thoughts to betray you and we triumphed]

Never did I regret killing your hope.
Place this necklace over your throat.
The material? I believe it's rope.
Let me tighten it for you.
[push].

[breath]

Sleep with my eyes open.
Hearing the redundant
crack as my heart is broken
and keep it submerged in tears
to truly know it's choking.

Losing life
before my eyes
I send my ***** to the sky
and hope to never love until
the day I die.

Admitting riddance
to take care of my heart’s
disappearance.

No one else's love to chase
while ice grows in a particular shape and
formed a cold faux heart to take its place.

Stares grow colder.
False heart gets older.
Mentality changes as
he finally lets go of the boulder
residing on his shoulder.

Family doesn't need him.
If he succeeds they'll need him.
Talk about how they never [leaved] him
and as truth resides in your eyes you
correct, and say [left].

You hear their lies in every single letter that is spoken, but where were they when your heart was broken, where were they when your innocence was stolen. Which one of you helped me look for it? Which one helped me find my dad. Who told me to just forget him. Who told me to just ignore it. None of you taught me to write, but you all wish to take credit and I won't let it happen.

I'm angry release endorphins.
Ignore every family member
until they see me become an orphan.

Hold back all the frozen tears.
They want me gone I overhear
and so I pack it all up.
Leave with no regret.

Family said they'd never
Leave, but I'm the one
who left.

Father said he'd come back.
156 [months] have passed
and I'm waiting with my hope
intact.

Father said he'd come back.
He's 4748 [days] late
and I start to harbor hate
in my chest as I try to lay
his memory to rest.

Father said he'd come back.
Its been a little over 113956 [hours]
and my heart has grown a little sour.
I can't forget him he's a coward.
A ****** who was only brave enough to plant a
seed in my mother and her love managed to bloom a flower.

Mother gave birth
to a kid that's now a brother
different from all the others
a stupid teenage *******
who everyone wanted to smother.

Now to make it harder
He says he misses his father
and he says he's all emotional.
His eyes start to water.

Hope is dead.
He no longer wants to meet him.
All the time that's passed has
worn his patience thin.

Father said he'd come back.
He's tired and the idea of a
father is something he's never seen.
It's gets kind of ridiculous
when the [years] I've waited for
him adds up to thirteen.

[voicemail]

hello, father
It's your daughter.

This is the last voicemail
I've decided to ever leave.
I'm been having some difficulty
in thinking that I'll succeed.

It's been a while but I'm not
here to catch up and reminisce.
I simply have a story to tell and basically it's this.

I started when I was fifteen.
Single edge blades for shaving.
I had found its other use
and the feeling was amazing.

Father where've you been?
The answer doesn't matter to me.
I've grown up and all the cuts have
lead me to bleed out my empathy
and letting scars heal with a special
layer of apathy.

You want to know what it feels like?
I stay up way past my bed time.
One mark before I start the climb.
Dark thick liquid that feels like slime.
Slow. Steady. Make the
motion last a lifetime.

I wonder what life
would be like without me
and honestly my disappearance
is what really makes me happy.

I've always really want to tell you
that even though you haven't been
here I think it's still okay to say
I love-

[beep]

Redundant feeling
settles in my stomach.
Caterpillars crawl within.

All the holes have left me
empty and I've let them get into
my skin.

Crawl. Slither. Walk.
Make your way towards my heart
and while you all feed off of it
make your way towards my stomach
to begin your metamorphosis.

Eyesight hears her beauty
as love falls gently on my tongue
and begins to arouse my taste buds.

Several senses out of order.
Vomiting emotions are
just a part of my disorder
in falling in love too quickly
and concluding that I adore her.

Left handed hour hand spins around
a circle while nature tries to progress.

Feelings start to settle.
Emotions start to bloom
and my stomach begins to feel upset.
I'm in love again correct?

They break out of their chrysalis.
I forgot about the time
that slowly flew by
and how because of her
now in my stomach
dwell the most beautiful
butterflies.

Beauty so awkward.
Your flaws tell you you aren't thin.
Wish to change who you are cause of the discomfort
in your own skin.

Shed it like a snake.
wait for it to dry
and harden as time moves by.

I miss your old skin.
Beautiful with all it's imperfections.
Ignore your inner thoughts.
Slowly learn to resent them.

Writing these lines for you.
Snort them.
Quickly learn to adore them.

See it disappear
as it travels up your nostril.
You realize my words are in your system
and you no longer feel awful.

As you start to relax
you've realized you relapsed.
Words travel quick
and tickle your synapse. Fast forward
watch the timelapse as you reach the peak or should
I say the ******. This drug is so pure,
no errors of syntax.
Not even at your core yet
while I'm aiming at your cortex.

These are my words.
Become addicted to them.
Refer to them when your thoughts come in contact with deception.
Use my words to forcefully change your perception.

No more pain I promise.
Promise these words are honest and
honestly I'll keep convincing you of your
beauty till I'm exhausted.

Self esteem.
Here to lift it.
Even though I drifted and veered
from my intended path,
I'm here to help get rid of something
awful you refer to as your past.

Take my hand.
Extend mine to help you up.
Cause I've been on the ground too
when no one would simply show up.

You've been hurt.
Your wings are broken.
Let me mend them as a token
of appreciation for enlightening
the world with a smile so contagious
that would lead all to believe that
you're perfect.

perfection.
Not what I was searching
but that's what I stumbled upon.

Your scars make you perfect.
They make you human.

You exhale an excess of words
while I inhale. I feel the words
touring to my synapse making
my brain as warm as wool.

I guess even my own words
can make me fall in love with
someone
beautiful.

Every night in my sleep
I play the scene
I've never witnessed.

Sand in your face.
Shells hitting the ground.
Visibility reduced to nothing.

Contemplating memories
as my anger cultures sorrow
and melancholy.

Anger for not being better.
Purposely missing the concert
you've always wanted to attend.
Forgetting that dinner and how
I wish I had that time again.

Forgetful, but you stayed.
Wish you could've stayed.
Memory will fade as I plead for you to
please stay.

In the mail I got a phony plaque
that won't bother to bring you back.
You said not to stay up too late
while waiting for you to come back.
I want you back.
I want you back.
I want my love that was dispatched
to Iraq and never came back.

Perfect way to end a letter.  
Rated x to get her wetter and o
the shape her mouth makes while she
takes [explicit] and slips another pill
that she purposefully drinks at will.

Searching for serotonin
in any kind of person.
Hard for her to see
while she abuses receptors
that release dopamine.

Snow falls from her nose
as the winter wind blows
and to keep up her habit
finds another man to blow.

How far will she go
before they all decide to let her go
and she ends up all alone.

I picked her up and fixed
her wings while she tried to
figure out what to do next.
She says she has no money and
can only repay in ***.

Keep the x and then we'll se[e]  
but first you need some help
before we know what the plan will be.

A fallen angel. I'm glad
you're in my presence.
Please don't yell so loudly
just in case we wake the tenants.

Watch you sleep while
I make breakfast.
I've grown attached to the
angel addicted  to snow
that  has nowhere to go.

Stay with me I tell her.
She's reluctant to look
me in the eyes.
She wonders if I'm kidding
and simply tell lies.

She slowly starts to panic
I claim my love for her's organic
but she doesn't know what to
think as her mind becomes volcanic.

I tell her I'm going to
shower and to
think of my proposal.

I try to be quick as
I'm convinced that after
months I simply can't let her go.
Only to find a long letter
in the kitchen with the signature
[xo].