I can't wait till the day I explode.

Like a magnificent firework with the shining lights, and burning ambers

Maybe when my ashes hit the dry grass It'll catch fire, and burn everyone

Burn everything down so we can start anew.
...
But I'm not a firework

I'm a dud

I won't ever explode, and I'll just hold everything inside of me forever

So stomp on me into the ground,or toss me out.

Cause a dud is a dud, and there's nothing else to it.

Time sits on my chest
like a poisonous toad.
Forcing my every breath
into a despondent miasma

Withered and sere is
the sickly void that I
casually glance back into-
ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Scrabbling around in the absence of light,
looking for something to hold up,
to refer to with, "this will be my redemption"
Nothing I have will ever be enough

A not-quite perfect circle
that I keep drawing, and redrawing, and redrawing

The jagged teeth of the blade are attracted to her smooth skin

They wish to hurt her, this she knows, yet she lets the teeth sink in

As if she hated the pain she cried, but the blade knew when she told the truth...

and when she lied

Over and over again she's given a chance to stop

And when she does the emotions begin to bubble beneath her skin...

until they pop

The beginnings of terror
dust my lips,
but will never fully come
to realization

What is cowardice
but fears undisclosed?
I am afraid
of being afraid

Oh how did it come to this
Your letters written through steal bars
Speaking of how close you are yet so far

"No father of mine" I had once said
Now I say,"What father of mine" instead

You speak of forgiveness and love from our holy God above, but what God I ask- what God would allow such things to fester in the revolting wound of life

Religion is nothing but hope, and hope is for nothing but the weak.

Even so, I still hope and pray at night, this contradiction alone makes me shamefully meek

You say you're a holy man,
but all that's standing there
is a hollow man I see.
But fool beyond disrepair
and you will only have one to appease.

The mills of the heavens
grind slowly but surely,
and everyday I beg
to not wake up too early

We masquerade as high-functioning flesh,
sloshing masses of organic matter.

A sepulcher clad in a sad burlesque.

empty words in empty places,
hollow words from hollow faces.
gilded truths to those concerned,
easy ignorance for those malformed.

when fire takes to water
and everything has been said,
who will grant a brief respite
to those who the liars have misled?

What rotting meat I've become

The thoughts of you fester like putrid maggots in my head

Slowly but surely maturing into swarms of flies

The constant buzzing numbs me to the music of the world

Thoughts of you are tiny yet frequent, so much so you have blocked my view

Now my eyes see no color, no light

I open my mouth to cry out but the thoughts of you begin to choke me

Desperately I try over and over, but my voice has become transparent

The horrendous thoughts that are taking my world scrape and scrape away at all my senses

You take away everything until all I'm left with is a miniscule fly

A tiny thought of you

There were many and many corrosive days
that took me to obstinacy.
The days were long, with oh, such a smile-
as they listened to my every plea.

This could get better, and that could get better-
but for my own very malady.
"This wait is too long and fills me with terror"-
with no one hear but for the trees.

So I feared with a fear that was far too near
as they listened to my every plea.

Had God cried the ocean
Had his hardened gaze turn matter to stone
Then that stone turned to blissfully life with that joys in his eye?
If that is so, couldn't mam be as great as your God?
We have each cried our own ocean
A single glare can turn a man to stone
And mothers have, with joys in their eyes, given sacred life

So I ask why have we given all the power to our God?
Why have we done so when all our choices have been our own?
When life has been swelling within for nine months?
Man is no fool, and God has never been a man- so then why?

Past the dull numbness
and into the clouds,
is where my moral compass
lies in a desolate shroud.

Dreams from a monster factory
never get anywhere-
the best illusion conjures anarchy
that slips past the castle in the air.

So sulk in your self-imposed exile,
never to see civilization again.
As the world passes you by, meanwhile
your mind becomes as muddled as your own justification.

Dreams from a monster factory:
can anyone hear me even now?

Don't leave me alone
stuck in a state of cranial neuropathy

Chemtrails must turn people gay,
It's all in that deviant spray!
Some damn plane in the sky,
Must've hit a bullseye,
Cause I can't stop watching men's ballet!

Heart swollen with the deceit of love
Eyes trained to the skies above
Hands open to the falling stars
Jaw clenched at his own cross patterned scars

Broken nose to match her broken heart
Hands so tightly knitted, they refuse to part
A sea of tears which drowns her deep
The climb from her mind is very steep

If simple words had been exchanged
A penny for one's thought with extra change
A new path would had made way
In which together they could stay

Tears slip down and around
the bruised, broken skin ghosted around
my eyes. Thoughts jolting around,
always going back around
to the hunger seeping around
his smile, through those teeth.

You remember me
but do you remember you?
What dregs remain when you are lost,
and with what are you willing to part with?

The lion may lurk in this room now,
but you'll know when its meal is over.

the flow of my cherry red blood is like that of an eye dropper
Each drip makes my mind become clearer, the haze contracts
Smaller and faster the emotions reframe them self in the tiny cage
In which I have built on top of the countless years of agony
Sometimes they manage to free them self
But I for sure know that they will find their place once again

I find solace in things such as
The aesthetics of knitted clothes
The warmth of homemade foods
And the love in lengthy cards from friends
These are nice things that make me feel nice things
But I also find solace in the horrors of life
Things such as the disruptive and ear piercing clatter of broken plates
Or even the prickling sensation of their glass imbedded into the sole of my foot
Pleasure in biting off every sliver of nail until blood seeps out
And crying into the late hours of the night
These horrid things make me feel horrid things
And I find solice in that

Something that happened
is that my father never left,
never stopped yelling,
never stopped surging
forward into my mother's face,
demanding, wanting, wheedling.

Just another thing that happened
is that I really wish he had.
But I'm just another thing
that had happened
and he wishes I never had.

I wipe away the stray wisps of hair
But not the tears
There they sit proudly
Showing the truth, the pain
No I am not alright
And that is okay
No I will never be alright again
And that is not okay

Too bright to hear, It's too bright here,
too loud to see the sea is too loud

I want to be anything else Why can't I just be
other than me Part of the crowd?

Out of the darkness Into the darkness
and into the night and out of the night

At the end of the tunnel At the end of the tunnel
there is no light I won't put up a fight

What you're feeling is nothing new
Nothing like the blooming flowers or the fresh sky
The depression that has caught you is suffocating me too
Everything is of numbness,drear, and ready to die

You must persevere
Is what they all say
But it's impossible for the sun to shine
When the skies are grey

Every night as I close my eyes the guilt chews
At my insides
I can see him there taking his last breath
Watching his empty shell invite death

Surely I regret what I have done
But seeing him gone
I feel as if I've won

There's no words that could perfectly describe
How incredibly messed up I am inside

This song and dance
has an age-old flavor,
a steady consistency
that I seem to favor

Forgiveness and forgetfulness
scream for recognition
but that was left behind
of my own volition

I stand in contrast
to my mind's thrall.
Draw a circle, look inside-
that's my being magnified.

I worry, and I stutter,
I stumble, and I confuse.
Closed eyes with eyes drawn on
I want silence and to be gone

The heavy weight of failure
sits high on my brow.
If not now, then later-
at least there I don't disappoint

dry web of nerves, meaty fixtures in between
scattering of organs from cerebrum to spleen

looks all in order, but believe you me-
right there in that circle are some serious disorders

Do I wanna live?
Do I wanna die?

Either way I don't care

Neither would lead me there

...To the spot where I was truly happy
Back in my childish dreams
When I didn't matter if my socks weren't-matching
If my hair was frizzy
Or if I had fallen into a puddle of water

My way of talking
Way of walking
None of it had mattered

But the slap of reality is far past shocking
It's as if the world had always been in first
Mocking me with what seems out of reach

The path I lead is that of bread crumbs
Tenderly dropped and meticulously placed Only to be eaten by the animals

Just as hungry as I am

Hungry for the future
but longing for the gracious meals of the past

Nothing can take me back to the time
To the spot
To the people
Who had made me truly happy.

While waiting,
It passed me by.
I stood there, unaware,
that there would never be
another "then."

It laughed with its mouth
wide open. Gaping so far
that the cracking of its jaws
ran through my mind for days

The rancid breath of my would-bes,
and in between its teeth- the possibilities

I hate that I am handicapped
by those whom I cannot control

The constant buzz of life
Is quieter than that of
My room light
And of my loose ceiling fan

Or the sizzling of white skin
trying to tan

I can't remember how long it has been
Since when
You were there

As the buzz in my life

So loud and clear

I think though
That I like it better
When you're far away

So graciously quiet, let the buzzing stay

The unattainable is forever within our reach. Our ragged half-moons may trail across the surface with a longing wish to desperately seize our prize, but that's only foreplay. The true game is when we reach the end of the mortal coil, when we snap back to reality and the whiplash is so fierce that there will never be enough time in the world to reorient.
Blood murmurs in my ears in a smooth procession. It nicely offsets the silent lacrimal offerings that ghost away once they soak into the fabric of my skin. Here am I, there you are. Every sweet-imagined possibility lurks in the screaming space between us, wavering like ancient static with nothing willing to receive it.
Here is you, there am I. Que sera sera, carpe diem, c'est la vie. There was never a chance to begin with.

I think we should try again
To breath
Speak
Walk anew

I think we should love again
With our hearts
Ears
Lips too

We should think
Eat
Live
And try


Try to burry the past

We need to try again

I think too, for this,
there is much more worth being
here for; all is set

Air, air, everywhere
and not a drop to breath in-
to live with such care

free, free, all with glee
and so can I you too-
to live with such care

Have you been thinking

How to take all the pain away

I wish you could have just given me what I deserved

I wish you would have just stayed


Lately I've been thinking

How to take this pain away

If only I could give you what you deserve

But I'm still left with this aching every day


There was nothing like us

I wasn't praying so desperately

For the father that never existed


There was nothing like you and me

Because I was just dreaming

About having a dad, I was just a small kid

Trip-pul-let, trip-pul-let,
quarter rest, glissando
cut time, now 3/4,
circling back to 4/4.
Vibrato, vibrato,
except on piano

Sad dreams and smokescreens
with new screams and old.
Hushed-quiet mornings,
soft tick of metronome.
just my flute and me

"I thought you played the saxophone?"
No, not for eight years

I wonder if each breath the earth takes
Is the wind that makes the leaves dance and shake
Just like that walk we took on our Autumn break

I wonder if the ripples of water
Can be soothed out like wrinkles in clothing with an iron
Like on that day when you tripped on the cord and the heater fell on your foot

I wonder if the sun in the sky
Could be ever be brighter than the light in your eyes
Or the gleam that catches your smile each and every time

I wonder and I wonder so many things

And they all seem to wonder about you

This ill-begotten world
accepted with prying hands
that have now turned to closed fists.
Borrowed time, in all of which
we take to figure that out.
The milky film of cataracts
graces whatever senses we have
at our leisure.

But the elegant strips of lightening
still slink in front of the stars,
the trees sulking in the sultry weather
still push and pull, the rain tumbles
down from the heavens like hastily
shattered glass, the ground gives way
beneath our feet, and all is fine with the world.

You were here
Just minutes ago you were here
Breathing here
Happy here

Now
now
You're there
Under six feet of dirt
Over there
Near the oak tree you loved so much
There

You won't climb it
You can't climb it
The car had broken everything
So you won't climb it

Instead you sit underneath it
Over there
The wind blows the leaves and you wishfully look at a bird
That's far too from there

It flys away and takes you with it

I wonder where
Where will the bird take you
Hopefully
Someday
It will lead you back here

Please come back here

Remembering that you're no longer here
is like that dark feeling
that curdles my stomach
when I move forward, expecting
for a step to greet me,
only to be met with confusion and indignation.

Who is to say that upon your departure,
my present will be no more real
than the past?

Though we were given all the tools,
we were given all the limitations.
A never-ending joke,
but don't all jokes soon grow dull?

I can answer these
no more than you
can be recalled to life.

You're cookie cutter words
Have shaped the dough of my youth

Since I was fresh out of the oven
My chocolate chip eyes melted into pools of tears

Though as time passes
They solidify
Becoming the ground I walk on

The foundation I build my life on
My personality
My hopes
And my future

Built on the bitter sweet memories of the past

Dark, cloudy glasses adorn my face,
Black, white and grey surrounded my space,

Dark, smokey air strangles my throat,
Black, white and grey, I'm being rewrote,

Dark, black mass pulls me down below,
Black, white and grey, hidden in the shadows,

Dark, wet tears trail down my cheek,
Oh what is it that I seek?

I remember that horrible day
Where my childhood crumbled
And on the shards of my broken family I stumbled

Where blood stained the ground
Where my mother was crying so loud
How god seemed to freeze time
And it killed me that the blood wasn't mine

I remember scrubbing the red from the carpet
Just a young child
But the world would keep spinning and nothing could stop it

Even when you stopped breathing
And your heart stopped beating
The tears kept coming

But when the knife dropped from your hand

That was when I realized
No real dad would go off and die
No real dad would leave his family behind
With a debt to pay
And not a damn cent to his name

That's how I'm sure
So very sure
That you're no real dad of mine

The skitter of legs up and over the walls,
like the chattering of a thousand dusty dolls.
Seeping abdomens drag across my face,
paper ash adorns the distant landscape.

A sepia film settles over my vision
as vultures angle towards me with intense precision.
It's hard to find beauty in the irradiated haze.
I would rather prefer if we had gone up in a blaze.

Singed trash chokes the abandoned highways,
doors hang open, toys left and forgotten.
The persistent buzz of flies,
the burrowing of maggots-
the only reminders of the ill-begotten.

Borrowed world on borrowed time,
but somewhere here is just sublime.

Merrily, merrily, merrily,merrily,
life is but a dream.

I sat there staring endlessly for hours. Not because I was bored, but because of fear. Fear of if I were to die that night I wouldn't be able to remember the beauty of the world around me. The ground stained with the dirt from the torn soles of our shoes, walls smeared with the crayons of mischievous children, and the smell of freshly washed dogs. All of these were considered dirty and unwanted in regular households, but these attributes were the personality in my life. I had fallen in love with the imperfections in my life. Every scratch on my glasses to each stain on my white shoes, I loved them so dearly. Not with the emotions of passion, but with that of sweet nostalgia. I wished for things to never change yet I wanted the world in my hands. As indecisive as I was I knew that what really mattered was not the past nor the present. Neither had or do hold much for me, but the future, oh yes the future has stars in its eyes

I will never be home again. The apologies may hemorrhage out of me till I am all but exsanguinated of my blood, and my lips may grow chapped with the awkward, rushing words, but these apologies offer no solace for me. The air reeks of discontent and shadows drip down behind every visitor to darken the doorstep; the water tastes strange now, and all the lightening casts a sickly jaundice upon my family. I will never be home again, because nothing will ever be the same. Going back is a reunion in itself- changing quicker than the light flashes out over the water. The future may turn to me with cherry-red cheeks, bright button eyes, a jaunty smile, and a mischievous wink, but both them and I know that it's a sardonic show.
Everything lies hush around me, as though this is all a secret.

When I close my eyes, it is not the inviting darkness I see. But it is an assortment of colors that don't stain the real world. For the real world seems dull and lifeless, streaked with monochromic greys and browns. I Rather the flowers behind my closed eyes whom beckon me closer and wish to hold me longer. This I do not refuse, why would anyone refuse a world so bright and captivating, willing and accepting of ones true nature? I lay there in its this untainted ecstasy as the colors envelope me whole. They whisper in my ears untold fairytales of the past as they fluff my pillow with the clouds from the heavens. This world, so pure and encaptivating exists only within my closed lids. Once the morning wipes the sleep from my eyes everything vanishes just as it appeared. Then I am left in such a bastardly world, whose pride is that of melting ice caps and children ridden with disease. I can only sit eagerly for sleep to come

Cool tufts of air stroke the strands of my hair, beckoning from the ends of the earth. Come away to the ocean deep, where the floor is fathoms and miles and worlds long. Come feel the finely ground sand, like pulverized bone shifting through your hands. And if you play your cards right, that can be you, too. Let the water fill your lungs as you watch the bubbles escape frantically from your mouth. It's such a comfort to feel full again, to be surrounded by a dreadful amount of pressure. Now let go, let go, be serene again. Watch the light above melt away- an abscess, an aberration, dealt with like the interloper it is.

Obligation bears such a subtle love. A pet project, a reason to get out of bed, a point of pride. But ours is such an empty love, a frozen waterfall that kept breaking apart, refreezing, shattering, falling. Now here we are, suspended in a terminal promise- creaking, straining ice latched onto the cliff of remembrance.
Whenever my darting eyes hesitantly meet yours, you drag the color out of my life. Your quivering, pleading eyes and watery smile, silently begging me to give you a paint-by-numbers reference guide to the universe. Your simpering hands flutter uselessly in the air, like miserable moths doomed to never find a lightbulb.
Every time I say goodbye, I never know which will be the last. Whenever you crawl your fickle, nasty self back to the pit you whined your way out of, I won't have to pretend to like you anymore. Ours is a subtle love, one born of obligation. I love the thought of how full of joy life will seem by contrast to our life together.
We each live a half-life, but you, my parasitic twin, live more of mine that your own. A conjoined life doesn't mean a conjoined death, but I'm going to choose the latter over the former.

I don't understand this thread?

>>45 I like your words ALOT!!

listless hands struggle to find words to say.
Awkwardly they fiddle with the ripped hem of the sweater.
It kept the fine thread from unraveling in a large mass of insanity.
This she knew
And that is what always brought drew her hands back
She would go about pick and pulling at the feeble hem
No mind left to fear the insanity of a world without hope
Even without the safe structure of the hem,
The world would remain ignorant to the change

he breathed in everything at once
all that had been and all that will be
it now traveled through his nasal cavity and into the lungs
the diffusion assembles into the capillaries traveling the length of the body
and back
he breathes out
parts of everything
parts of him
mixed together
enter the universe
Then
He
stops
diffusion no longer occurs
and everything becomes nothing
in a single breath

there's a garden on the ceiling.
It lifts me up like so many clouds
into a soft, subtle
hush

muted raindrops fall and dissipate
before they ever grace parched earth.
A gentle haze
pervades my senses.
my mind just a blur

as though some kindly omniscience
dragged a lazy fingertip
through the glistening paint of my mortal coil-
I am the lines in between the words.

here I linger
a pallid, unsaturated existence
a ghost of a whisper
a ghost, a ghost, a ghost

somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me
i ain't the sharpest tool in the shed

she was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb
in the shape of an "l" on her forehead

well the years start coming and they don't stop coming
fed to the rules and i hit the ground running

didn't make sense not to live for fun
your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb
so much to do, so much to see
so what's wrong with taking the back streets?
you'll never know if you don't go
you'll never shine if you don't glow

hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play
hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid
and all that glitters is gold
only shooting stars break the mold

it's a cool place and they say it gets colder
you're bundled up now, wait till you get older
but the meteor men beg to differ
judging by the hole in the satellite picture
the ice we skate is getting pretty thin
the water's getting warm so you might as well swim
my world's on fire, how about yours?
that's the way i like it and i never get bored

hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play
hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid
all that glitters is gold
only shooting stars break the mold

hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play
hey now, you're a rock star, get the show, on get paid
and all that glitters is gold
only shooting stars

somebody once asked could i spare some change for gas?
i need to get myself away from this place
i said yep what a concept
i could use a little fuel myself
and we could all use a little change

well, the years start coming and they don't stop coming
fed to the rules and i hit the ground running
didn't make sense not to live for fun
your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb
so much to do, so much to see
so what's wrong with taking the back streets?
you'll never know if you don't go (go!)
you'll never shine if you don't glow

hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play
hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid
and all that glitters is gold
only shooting stars break the mold
and all that glitters is gold
only shooting stars break the mold

Hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play
Hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid

And all that glitters is gold
Only shooting stars break the mold

Second was a ambivalent huntsman marked by the arduous endeavors of past discolorations on her silk skin.
Each pore a boulevard with trees of follicles dispersed about,
A single step in her way impelled an unearthly magnetic like force to Minute's world of self deprivation
Slowly decorticating skin amassed into mountains of incessant wonder and awe consuming all life force left in Month
Year, arrived and departed before condolences were given but Future felt no remorse
For that was a key factor in dismissing Past

The subtle tare of his hands through the fluff that was his hair
Anticipating what he would do next with those hands
Forcefully my eyes turned away and scanned the room
No one was looking at me
watching his hands
The tips of my fingers tingled begging to reach out and touch him
with a drive of a strong force
inches away I snapped out of my trance
quickly my hands retracted
then sat solemnly on the wooden desk
and with that a path closed
a possibility no longer an option
but rather
a would've
a could've
should've
I never saw him again, and I never got to hold his hand

Shallow puddles undulate to a languid tune,
breathlessly, joyfully free.
Sunlight flickers across dead, empty space,
hopelessly, desperately trapped.
Effervescent laughter bubbles up in the stand-still impasse.
"It's ok," "all is forgiven,"
"just a joke amongst friends."
An ice-cold reduction
of a centuries-long struggle

It was as if the moon fell from the sky
And landed in her bright blue eyes
Leaving him mesmerized
They were his guide through dark scary nights

But when she closed them tight
The sun would rise
From the apples of her smiling cheeks
To the crinkles of her crows feet

He would remember evertything
For that was his love

Sometimes I dont want to live
So I wilt
But someone keeps watering me
again and again

If I die during the winter
I'll be reborn during the spring

I cant help but wonder if they will eventually get tired of watering me
planting new seeds
or putting me in a place where I can get sunlight

Then I wonder again
if thats what I want to happen

I drove through static to get here.
Sad hazy ghosts, shivering
so brightly, like clots of ice,
clustered around me.

They are lining the streets,
squirming into the pavement,
calling, "please," "watch me," "look here."

isolated static clouds
pretty faded memories

I feebly reach out to remember them all,
but have no room for any.

A penny for many
A dime for all

walk the line of desolation
look away and you'll fall

Rough rope under the soles of your feet
miles upon miles away is death,
only a good boy's treat

The transit time sits at an estimated 50 mph.
Assuming that the traffic patterns, weather,
pedestrians, local authorities, and the hand
of God and any acts of nature that lie within all wholeheartedly agree that your destination is of the
utmost importance- we are proud to report
that with your cooperation, you can get
from here to there in a breezy few
millennia.

Even though you never take proper initiative
and have no true sense of autonomy, and even though
you're nothing more than a poor, soppy mess
wrapped up in a tattered rag, and even though
you think your hasty, shitty MS paint job
on the whole eyesore will make you anymore
appealing, that shitty personality you
broadcast so frequently begs to differ.

In fact, our company, a proud conglomerate of
many years, has our hands in many pies. For
this very reason, we feel that you would be a
perfect edition to our employee roster. Don't
believe any of those silly rumors about "lifespans"
or "communicable diseases." None of that applies
anymore! It's ok, there's a contract and everything.

Irradiated material is 99.9% myth and .01% fear.
It only appears that the majority of the world's
population has oozed apart onto the asphalt and the
plushy leather interiors of their cars, but honestly,
you haven't been sleeping too well these past few months,
so why believe anything your senses are telling you?

So stop worrying about how you haven't called your
sickly bitch of a mother in weeks and pack your bags!
We'll make sure to send a chauffeur over with a car
as soon as you paypal us 2K.

Is it okay to say I'm not here anymore
What you see before you is not me
But some horrendous
Depressed
Lonely
and lost creature

Is it okay to say that maybe what I really want is pity
when I tell my sob story
of my laughable life

Is it okay to say that i'm just one of those things
those situations
and people
that is so depressing that you laugh,
just like videos of cute animals falling down stairs
Or babies getting hurt

Because if its not okay

You just confirmed everything I am is not okay

And you wouldn't be wrong

Humans can identify the faces of their own species
in almost anything.
We have the Man in the Moon,
cajoling visages on the surface of Venus,
leering faces on the sides of mountains,
and withered mandrake roots.

It could just be another case of the human conceit,
or, more likely, everyone wants to be acknowledged.
Because even if you haven't invented
innovative, life-saving technology,
won a medal in the Olympics,
appeared on hundreds of news outlets for having
the astounding talent of being famous without being
talented,
crafted a heart-wrenching piece of art,
devoted thousands of hours to a charitable cause,
been the life of the party
had a reasonable group of friends
graduated high school
made someone laugh
got out of bed today
managed to stay alive
managed to trick your body into being alive
blinked in recognition of time passing around you
passively developed from a cluster of cells
became significant enough, or rather insignificant enough, for two people to be in the same square footage long enough for one to impregnate the other, for that one to bear you for 9 months and rocket you out into the world-

at least that slab of meat your eyes are pasted onto kind of looks like that one mountain or something, right?

Today I sought out to paint my love laying in bed
surrounded by my pillows and blankets
the brush fought against me
my mind betrayed my flowing hand and instead created such an image
an image of a crowd where everyone was faceless
so clustered and brought together they meshed like the wild flowers in the pocket of field behind the gas station
each flower is dead there, mashed under the souls of of my feet as I'd make my way through the field everyday
the dead twigs poke and prick and do things sticks do. Even so, I still cant help but associate them with every memory I've made in correlation with that field
late night escapades, walks with friends, running from trouble, and running into trouble, getting junk food with pennies collected from the park fountain, chasing rabbits and butterflies, smoking my first cigarette, and regretting it immediately after, picnics with my pieced together family, chasing loose dogs, and the ever growing violence invading my once peaceful town.
what was once peaceful has now grown dangerous
every shadow is a someone out to get you
and every drink offered is a threat to your life
all such memories of my youth have grown in that dry arid dirt
the dirt that is as scummish as it is plentiful
for where there is shadow there is light

Anyways, I do think such things are beautiful

Hard concrete with tiny rocks imbedded into my back beneath
To my left a pool of blood redder than my nightmares
Deep and dark and thick
Above clouds blurred together like the white of an egg
My glasses had been trashed and broken and crushed
Two dots flew in s circle above
Calling out their find
Patiently they would wait until my last breath
Raspy and slow and stopping

Be more confident
Be more considerate
Take charge more often, but also,
don't be too difficult, okay?
Make sure you're interesting...
why are you so weird?
Try to find a hobby you like!...
aren't there more important things to focus on?
Remember, only get a career in something you love!
But only as long as it pays well,
has a good job market, and the family approves.

I really want to please everyone
But mostly, I want to be
someone I can look at in the mirror and identify with.
I want to like myself
I want to have a purpose and a passion and inspire others
But what if I'm not right for the job?
If I'm in the way of someone else, someone better?
Who am I
to demand
all this recognition?
all this time and money?

I can only be one person at a time
and sometimes I wish I was less than one

Hands tight-ly grip the air
As it passes through the pockets of empty thoughts
And matted hair

Mirrors harsh-ly broken
The shards were glued to the ceiling
and reflected as stars

Use your three wishes sparing-ly child
For death is upon us now
Sleeping from every pore of your

Ug-lay face

‘I tried’
I said while sighing as I watched him die
A phone in my hand
And emergency button half a foot away
‘There’s nothing I can do’
His monitor flat lining
Body compulsings and shaking to and abrupt stop
‘It’s no ones fault, it’s what god wanted’
Said the nurse with a sigh