Tomorrow

Across that inescapable void
where prayers find their voice
we will speak again someday.

Somewhere,
in that permeating darkness,
I know you're watching.

You, in your form I never knew,
without the longing stares of silence,
the entangling respirator,
the inconsolable despondence,
the sunken cheeks and fallen eyelids.

You, in all your temporal disregard,
with your unrepentant dependency,
your adoptive arms,
your indiscriminate affections,
your transcendent ascention.

You,
who still haunt me in my dreams,
that I have stopped calling nightmares
out of respect for their subjects.

21 shots
for the forgotten,
and folded flags.

All of which seem meaninglessly drab,
in light of the alms of their idol worship.

For christmas,
I wish I could talk
to those lost along this lobotomized journey,
along with my mind.

I had her eyes, he said-
the kind that seem to be hiding
some inexpressible sorrow
deep inside.

How nice it must be
to never have to worry about tomorrow.

Moving Weight

His conjugal tone made me want to slit his throat, but organized crime concedes no room for passion. You rarely see the workings of the underworld; it is in its best interest to remain apparitional. "The marina on the North Carolina side of the Busterboyd, alone."
I collected all the necessities for such an occasion and drove down the empty road. He was already waiting when I pulled in. I struggled to control the urge to pull my m9 and blow his brains all over his Caprice. We exchanged brief glances and walked to the back of his car. He opened the trunk and watched as I slung my package over my shoulder.
It was too heavy to carry cooly. I stumbled under its mass, slowly reaching into my pocket to pull out my keys. He coasted off as I finally managed to pull the handle to the back left passenger door. I laid the black burden down on the cellophane that covered the backseat.
After I scanned the lot to confirm my solitude, I pulled away the black shroud. I hadn't allowed myself to confront the reality that awaited in the unnaturally blank expression I found on his face. The lack of his hallmark vitality was too much to deny. I broke down. I drew his bloodied face to my chest and cried out louder than God had ever heard. I hope he heard every word.
Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachtani.

Heaven

All my childhood heroes died.

Malcolm X was my best friend in middle school.
I cried when I finished his autobiography.

Why do the good die young?
I have seen proof thereof
many times. Still
I try to rationalize some truth therefrom.

Sometimes the world breeds anomalies
that supersede their times.

Rest in peace my brother.

I hope to see you, in the sky.
Tupac told me there was a heaven for a G.
Is it true?

Is there somewhere where me, you,
Biggie, Proof,
Jesus, Buddha, Muhammad, Confucious,
Ghandi, Martin, and Patrice Lumumba,
can kick it?

If there is a heaven,
I have no doubt there are gangsters in it.

They couldn't desensitize your smile.
I remember it so vividly.
All the while, as darkness thickened,
you kept on grinnin.

Most drug dealers are victims
of circumstance and their past.

I have known death in many forms,
though none seemed as difficult to bear
as those whose passing is still premature.

Ye though we were not naive enough
to think you would make it out alive,
prediction is no prescription.

O Lord,
Save Our Souls.
This isn't how life's supposed to be?
Is it?

True.

This business business
is getting out of control.

Ain't no life worth a figure,
no matter how large,
or minimal.

Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us of our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

A love affair that lasts forever

I'm sorry if I haven't made it clear that I want you more than anything else in this world.

You're all.
I would give you my everything,
darling.

I wasn't afraid to get involved,
and haven't had a second though about you.
You set it all in motion,
from the pool balls to the vitalization.

I need you more than I could scribble down.

How much could one human admire another?
I've been figuring it out.
You're figure sends shivers down my spine.

I still feel lucky just to kiss you.

I wish you understood the feeling
I get feeling your touch.
It's like a rush of the spirit,
crushing me in fire.

I'm broken for you.
I won't try to deceive you with false reconstructions.
I know you'll always be able to love me for who I am.

I love you.
I couldn't imagine being
with anyone else.
I feel you in myself.

I'm just some skinny kid in jeans,
with a notebook she gave me,
a pen, and these lines.

I hope you see my sincerity.

You've given me the greatest gift of my life,
and I feel like this wont be the last time
I tell you that.

I wan't your name to be mine.
Kids with your eyes, and your smile.(2 dogs)
I wan't to live what I can't write with a pen.

It feels more amazing than words can describe.

Shakespeare

Words are vacant constructions of a lacking language.

I've been debating my legitimacy as a writer lately,
but now I realize it is just a larger frustration
with the impotence of expression.

Conversations oftentimes feel like two lane highways,
along which vain vehicles of vernacular
attempt to convey intrinsic misinterpretations.

from now on
I may speak in terms
that will be misunderstood,

good.

from the poverty of pauperism
arises the fool
capable of tricking the world into thinking...

thoughtlessness

the essence of comic relief
lies in it's tragic framing.
I've learned to laugh at the gloom

only when one learns to live as two
can the vestigial structures
be cut
loose

master your reality
or let it enslave you,
but don't expect any-one
to save you

savor the salt of cured wounds

Bliss

My generation is ignorant of their wastefulness,
they just sit in their shit, refilling their faces;
ignorant of those born without congruent circumstances,
they shape the world to their narrow understandings.
Somewhere in the dark recesses of their repressed humanity,
They mute the screams
Of Congolese children- soldiers, whose ecstasy binges couldn't
desensitize their wounds;
Of the superfluous homeless dwelling in the graveyards of Cairo,
now-living-dead, exhumed;
Of the 90 something Pakistani's blown to bits by sacrificial
explosions today,(Salaam aleikum);
Of the Palestinians watching God partition Zion with his almighty
military-industrial arm, in favor of those who built fortunes on
the dispossession of their neighbors;
Of the fiends in Baltimore's slums, bleeding from their track
lesions, stigmatically itching for a hit of Jesus to calm their
storms;
Of the ethnic irreconcilabilities of Cyprus, whose Blue and Red
blood floods an island from too-separate landmasses;
Of the 3000 Columbians that have died every year, four decades long,
for political power;
Of the second children born in the cities of China;
Of those without a facebook account of their lives;
Of those without readily accessible clean water ;
Of those that might not eat tonight;
Of those without freedom;
Of those without homes;
Of those without family;
Of those without clothing;
Of those without opportunity;
Of those without hope;
Of the words that will remain unspoken.
Everyone deserves to have somebody who remembers their name.
I wrote this for the anonymous masses,
buried in unmarked graves,
and miniature caskets.
I pray you forgive our forgetfulness.

Frozen depths

Sometimes I feel like my life is falling to pieces, and I have neither the strength, nor the desire, to keep pulling it back together.

It seems I will always be a forlorn soul, alone, in the deepest winter, the cold endlessly nipping at my bones.

Looking back

Who is man to take another's soul in his hands?

It's sad
how ignorant most of us have become
of the value of life.

Even centsless violence has its price.

When you look into another human's eyes
do you see God looking back?
Or are you blind to the fact
of divine inspiration?

It breaks my heart to watch children die.
Mother's cry over bodies
that expired before they ripened,
trying to resound their immature silence with tears.

I write this hoping to somehow atone for the commissions of unreported crimes-

for myself, others, and anyone left, undercover.
I pray this finds it's way to any unmarked grave
that was dug deep enough to avoid detection.
May this light the way of smothered flames and unkept brothers.

Rest in peace,
though it eluded you in waking.

Feelings

I love you because you don’t run
when the scars are revealed.
When I talk about monsters
you look me in the eyes.

I stare into the sun,
Forever blinded by the light
of her burning clutches.
I'm not putting up a fight.

Take me out.
I got my hands tied in your embraces.
My defense
is down.

I dropped my guns,
and came back to you. Now
I see that you're my drug.
I'm strung out for your love.

Light my fire in the storms.
I'm sending you a message in a bottle,
hoping it finds you in due time.
There's a diamond inside I'd like you to keep warm.

We have exhausted the finite lover's lexicon,
to be expected of two poets.
Sighs, songs, and poster board hearts.
I wrote you poems- all midsummer night long.

You grab me by the soul,
and keep pulling me closer.
Your verse was God's message
to my folded fingers.

I feel it in the strokes
that defy my memories to hope.
Touch me.
It is the only sense I feel anymore.

Everything becomes so vivid.
The music simmers slow.
It feels like it's be years already,
just imagine getting old.

Clockwork

He was a merchant of watches. Eyes fixated, one on a stock ticker, the other hawking cops. Banking on bad investments, worshiping false profits: substituting dead men for a living God.
He felt his time was coming, every minute detail replaying nightly in his subconscious. Guilty as a dog: barked up the wrong tree and bit off more than he could swallow. That's why he sold watches- he always felt like he could keep extra time on his hands, somehow hoping to survive beyond his own fatalistic conception.
A suit-clad fox approached, prowling down the block. He knew how to find his higher power, his kept his name inscribed on his arms. 20 dollars was all he needed, to meet his spirit in the sky; he could see it in her eyes.
"Follow me miss, I have something special for pretty ladies like you." He guided her down an alley, mistaking her resistance for lethargy. As he took his jangling jacket off she drew her snub 32 and shot him in the heart.
He hit the ground before his jacket dropped. All he could feel was a seething warmth encapsulating his soul. He expected the light to come next, but only found a
finite darkness falling over his periphery. His body grew colder. He touched his chest and saw his own thick blood swallow his finger, that was when he realized all the watches in the world wouldn't afford him a second longer. Slowly his eyes closed, hoping for a second chance.
But second chances are hard to come by, and his first impression left its mark.

The end.

Notebook

I'm looking back
wondering what the fuck
happened?

Had-not snapshot captions
litter nothingness across my collective memory,
dripping concrete casts onto shards
of long, forgotten occurrences.

Anger festers on,
rotting away the fear.
I hear it roaring off in the distance.
Replaying xylophonic years

attuned to an instant.
My mother told me to give it to God.

I still haven't finished psalms
that have been written in my palms
since my fingers printed.

Let it burn

Forever,

your summer soothes my soul
in perpetuum.
You melt my sleep schedule,
only you.

Sun-stars-moon,
set and rise through my blue skies.
You knew how to fly before we met.

I can't be your superman,
but I can protect you with my life-
I'd gladly give it all.

I'm betting a lifetime on five months,
and don't intend to lose.
Substance of my holy holies-
true love.

I'm going to change your last name
to mine: a diamond, for two.

You overlooked my flaws
after I showed you them all.
Thank God for listening.

I wrote your name under my arm
to keep you by my side.
You wont ever fall
anywhere beyond my reach.

These arms of mine
wont drop the catch of eternity.
Burn in me.

Emphesema

The respirator hummed
like a shadow giving up its ghost.
It sits, unplugged:
the respirator hummed.
Silence-succumbed:
a parasite, deprived of host;
the respirator hummed,
like a shadow giving up its ghost.

Sleep

I have recurring nightmares. The same scenarios repeat themselves every time:

I am confronted by my regrets
of the depths of hell.
My friends can't be saved,
no matter how many I kill.
I'm filling everything in sight with lead.
It comes naturally.
Death, sketched in chrome.
This is what I was bred for.
I'll put a smile on your face without a joke,
but wouldn't dare animate my own.

I find myself in a dimly-lit bedroom,
not unlike the one I slept in, as a child.
Some apparition calls me closer.
I don't recognize this woman.
"What do you want?"
You already know.
"Who are you?"
You don't remember.

I've been trying so hard,
to say goodbye to yesterday,
but it lingers onto tomorrow.
Progression is devolving,
revolving, around me,
as I two-step to the steam whistle
screaming in my subconscious.
I am free falling through second chances,
never finding one to hold on to.

I got shot.
But I did not face my fear,
I embraced it.
Realizing every time had its instant,
I saw mine to be fast approaching.
I sat propped up against a wall
in some broke dopedealer's home,
those two motherfuckers whose heads I blew off
are staining my shelltoes red.
I never felt so lonely,
but I guess that was to be expected.
I smiled,
might as well give em something to remember me by.
I held onto my beloved Beretta,
until I had to let go.
Silence fell like snowflakes in July.

I don't think I'm going crazy. Though I might be losing my mind, according to my own accord, my understanding thereof may give away my own lies. I only speak the truth, but what of sight?

Clockwork

He drug himself along the corridor like a sloppily slaughtered livestock- shot through the eyes. His own blood eased the friction between the hardwood floor and his limp-beaten legs. What should have been a humane death was drawn out into a torturous demise.

I stepped over him to put him out of his misery. His eyes met mine with a look of surrender to the impossible, forcefully abdicated to his own mortality. My eye died like it so often did in times like these, losing it's life along the eight-and-a-half inches of chrome between animation and death. I felt his life in my hands: his birth, his upbringing, and, most imporantly, his future, short though it may be.

Time travel has yet to be discovered, but manipulation of temporal lineation has been a hallmark of human society for millenia.

The guttural rattle emanating from the depths of his throat was a sure sign of looming finality. I was allowing him time for any last penance. God knows most of us don't remember his name. He was bleeding from his eyes, crying satan from his inner soul.

Silencer speak softly. I pulled the trigger slowly, my pointer finger melting into it's metallic home. Only the recoil of the hammer and the light at the end of the barrel broke the hypnotic hold of darkness. He finally fell to the floor, baptising himself in his own brains and blood.

He was the only friend I had.

It was just business.

Every-body's gotta eat.

Home

I was holding back tears
reading a poem.
I guess it's true what they say
about home.

Mine was broken by those closest to me;
I don't hold it against em though.

We move on,
grow distant,
and older.
I'm stronger now.

Lift by my lonesome.
No spotter.
I learned when to give it up,
from experience.

Felt it fall on my chest,
and had to get it off me.

I can tell you some stories,
but I don't lie.
They still make me choke up
sometimes.

This is how men should show their feelings.
Show they can give a damn enough
to struggle, and to deal with it.

I am my own man.
You know this.
Teary falter,
but none fall.

I'm still living.
All you need is
hope.

Which goes against my very nature,
but I don't look like either of my parents.
Glitch in the matrix- system overload.

Overdosed and saw the grace of God
reflected in an Angel.

I don't need this dope no 'mo.
I hope.
So help me.

I was thinking about making a new home,
where my children wouldn't need to paint their faces
to go through their daily motions,

or almost break down in front of a bunch of strangers
they didn't know.

Untitled

Some-body’s gotta die-
everybody’s just some body
anyways right?
I guess that’s just life.

Let the gunshots blow; nobody gotta know.
Even Goliath can be felled by stone.

His mother’s crying in her only son’s graduation seat, holding a diploma.

Can I please get a moment of silence,
for all those no longer with us.

Father forgive us.

Green tomatoes fried before they grow.
Quiet. Find an unidentified body
on the side of the playground.
I don’t remember not feeling old.

Our only exits are off 77&85.
Trap or die
slow.

It’s a cold world out there-
Some just don’t give a fuck.

I drove down a deserted road
somewhere that felt somewhat
like home-

blowed-breath in my lungs:
medicine for loneliness.

The darkness is my closest friend.

Where I’m from
thugs say there’s nothing wrong
before they swallow their pill bottles
in their tears.

This isn’t a piece of fiction.
You couldn’t write this shit
I know.

You

You have made me believe

that I can be happy with someone forever-
and never regret a single moment of it.

Let's hold eternity,
together,
in each other's arms.

It's amazing:
embracing the love of your life,
in spite of the mortal constraints
imposed upon it.

Cut out all the ropes,
and let us fall.

Wind-walker.
Whisper-psalm.
Light of the world.

You stuck me blind as a dog,
now I can only walk with you by my side.
Without you I am lost.

Seeing my-god. She speaks sweetly.

We talk on a regular basis,
because I need to keep her aware
of how thankful I am.

You've seen me through,
and through.
I can't do this alone any more.

Only you can full-fill me now.
Only you.

Who else
could prove
that both miracle and dreams
come true.

I pursue the desires of my heart,
and delight in answered prayers-
you've answered all of them.

You are the poetry to my soul.
There is a special place in my heart for you,
where no one else can come close.

My art-ifice.

Every line I ever wrote was for you;
and only you,
can be repeated so many time,
and still make it sound beautiful.

You.

Bastard

"Don't get a speeding ticket."

I chuckled under my breath.

Tonight I drove home(the only one I know) doing 100 most of the way, slowly. No seat belt. I laugh to dislodge the frogs in my throat. No vacancy. I might peek my head out the windshield, but at least I will have broken through it. No inhibitions. I'm holding nothing back- you should try it- for once.

I am my father's only son, but that doesn't keep him from treating me like a bastard.

We are only acquaintances- I've realized I don't know him at all. All those years, behind those heroics, you were poisoning yourself. The first time I saw you intoxicated I stopped wanting to be a pilot. Hardly anyone knows I can fly, I don't discuss it much.

I picked you up from jail this morning. You had on last nights clothes and your morose expression- that face you put on when you know you've fucked up really bad. I know it well[though the same can't be said for you]. I don't hold it against you though.

"D'you mind if we try the silent [insert noun]."

No: Silent treatments never heal their immutable causes. Terminal illness speaks loud. There is a disease breeding in the gold. Now you keep trying to read into my blank stares as if you will somehow comprehend the meaning behind them with your beady eyes. Somehow.

Don't get your hopes up.
My poker face is cold.

"I'll make it up to you."
"You don't have to make anything up to me."

You've done enough of that already; and we both know that you won't. We'll just go on leading our daily lives. 2 minute phone conversations. 'proud of you', and 'love you': as hollow as woodpecker songs. Routinely whittling away in whistles and wistful thinking. Anyway.

We've both made mistakes. (I tucked that Glock into the small of my back and felt wholesome). I forgave you before we even spoke. Before you(or I) awoke in someplace that doesn't feel anything remotely like home. Nobody is perfect. You came mighty close. I really hope you get some help. I dealt with it on my own- it is no method for the weak of heart.

I am my fathers only son

but that doesn't keep him from treating me like a bastard. I fear that one day he'll be out cold, for good. My tolerance for your behavior is growing as thin as your tolerance for slow drinking. I love you, but face me when you embarrass me. I think you are a coward, when you don't.

Stand up to your demons, I can teach you how. I seem to have become the grown-up of this family, somehow-anyways. Now I'm showing you how to be a man.

Fight me, but you will not win, dad. I am not going to let you push me away. I will suffocate you if I have to. I am getting closer to the truth. The kerosene is soaking-

let it burn-
it feels oh so good
oh so good
rolling off the tongue

Now you understand my love of words.

Immortal

Sacrifice has become an easy burden to bear; however, one does not build muscles without tearing them apart. Watch: I don't struggle anymore. After piecing my puzzled heart back a-part, it returned tempered, from the hot-coal'd embers. I'm frozenerating.

I talk to God on a daily basis.

(S)He looks me in the eyes when we hold our conversations. They are often overstimulating- so much so that they may even bring me to tears. Forgive me. I may have fucked up in the past but now I'm walking straight as a sober saint, with the grace of a tightrope walker: no fear.

All you need is love. Seat-belts. I'll lose my thug, if I can steal your heart. I'll wear my leather gloves and creep up-on you in the dark...

It's not what I was, but who I've become. I painted scars into stars to shed light on black lungs. My breathing is deep, abysmal even. Peace is beautiful- you should see her in the flesh.

Rest, in peace. I would face death, for thee. Take your best shot. I will not retaliate. I will take you by the hand and kiss you on the lips. This is what life was made for. This.

Passion is one hell of a drug.

Reverence

Could I write enough pages
to convey how thankful
I am to have been touched by God-
through association.

Angel,

I imagine heaven feels
something like the time we spend together.

Perpetual spring-
where I first fell in love with you.

The weather was lovely.
Surely you remember.
And now this winter-
you will be wearing my sweater.

I count you amongst my greatest blessings
every day.

Could I ever
produce enough volumes
to resonate
the sound you struck in my soul.

You've felt my chest more than once-
and should know.
I am all yours;
and am never letting go.

You have shown me a love
that can be dissociated
from jealousy,
conceit,
control,
and need.

There is no compulsion.

I have patience,
and faith:

Reverence.

If I die after writing this poem, at least she'll know I had good intentions. I would give you the world if I could fit it into words; instead I think it would be better to simply offer you a reflection of the image I'll always have embedded in my blinks.

I see you every time I close my eyes,

even in my dreams.

Silence

I talked to a zombie the other day.
S/He looked something like a hybrid
of all the friends I've lost.

Told me to carry a burning cross
up-on my kerosene-soaked
shoulder blades and
pray for the best.

Henceforth I came-
sew, they say.

So I stitched together a rainbow
of broken promises,
and refracted halos
through the water under the bridge.

I'll see some of yall in heaven,
and it won't be nothing but love:
here's to ginger bread-houses
and amber waves of grain.

For the others-
There's another way.

Though you may have
murdered
snorted
aborted
and fucked it
up to this point-

My brothers(and sisters),
have faith,
I'm coming to save you.

I wanted to dedicate
this to all of my
quote-unquote
lost friends.

They we/a-re
l/on(e)ly
misdirected.

If I address this correctly,
tell them don't shoot the messenger:
I'm just trying to get a message: across.
You knew I'd be loyal to the end-

some witnessed it first hand.

Now I've come to testify
to my abiding resolution.
I never took the stand-
only the fall.

And grew stronger
picking myself up for sew-long.

Now hear ye, clearly,
you can rise above it,
it just takes some resolve
and nike air's.

I'll be there.

You have my word.
I am a man of it.
I will never break bond.

My heart-still
breaks for yall.

Fill the beat.

All

I arose from the muddy waters to extol the words unspoken,
from the depths:
of my soul.

Ye though I stand alone,
I was not always a solitary creature.
The knowledge gained will teach them- for they know not.

Every moment is precious.
Write your blessings on your clocks.
Caress the ephemeral with minute hands.
There will never be another second exactly
like this
one.

I say I love you
before goodbye,
any other last words would be regretted.
Kiss me before you walk out the door.

There isn't anything I wouldn't give to...

Many would've grown bitter.
I've grown invincible.
I love you, all.
We, all, fall short.

Doing so does not distance us from God.

A moment of silence:

for all those lost.

I hope to find a way
to ensure that your dreams carry-on.
Even if its means on my shoulders.
I will take your luggage to the cross.

Christ was crucified alongside criminals.

You can't tell them they were wrong.
When they're just tryna make things right
for their wife and their daughter.
For the fathers, who art in heaven.

Tomorrow is never promised.

Not everyone has the opportunity.
I am trying to make things possible.
Though my chances may be slimmer
than those dying of starvation.

I will prepare a feast at my table.
And set places for the paupers.
You don't have to take your shoes off.

I want my house to be covered in dirty footprints.
That way the walls will be covered in fond memories.

I remember them,
so fondly.

I returned home from war
to fight for freedom.
Equality.
And Justice.

For all.

Soft songs of the southern sun.

Bittersweet withdrawal.

Heat

Summer- eve:
midnight heat,
she speaks,
we dance.

Take my hands.
They may be rough,
but that's just an indication,
of how hard they can hold.

I'm not holding back-

Look me in the soul.
I have nothing to hide.
Confide.
Read between my lines.
(i love you)
Lines: all through my notebook,
written for you.
I'm trying to save you
with your own divine inspiration.
(iamb:yours)
I've conquered demons.
What of an angel?
I can distinguish the two.
This is a peaceful war.

Don't fight the feeling.
I've healed battle wounds before.
This is the treatment-
Peace treatise.

Do you understand?
how much you mean to me?

more than the world-
my sun, moon, and all stars:
beheld in your glances.

I see it in your eyes.

In your smiles.
Happiness.
Lifetimes of it.

You wrote your name on my first page.
I want to give your a whole book in return.
I'll take my time.

Word by word.
Line,
(forever)
by line.

It's funny how malls always feel empty to me. There must be at least a thousand people within my peripheral vision, alone. They couldn't know the so/u/l/e that walks amongst them in silent reflection. Unbeknownst, too them.

Sometimes life tries to kill you, as a child.

Sale. 50% off store-wide. Biggest savings all year, all year. The temple cannot be built on material foundations. We still offer praise, sacrifice, and supplication. Don't that new outfit make you look ______? Mirror image.

Growing up, I realized that no one can change another. How daunting it is to change oneself should contribute considerable understanding to the truth of the aforementioned statement. But I still love them. I know they hate it- I see it in their eyes every time we have an intimate conversation. Intoxication. Absence. Bastard-child, wrote Atlas- I am stronger now.

I w(a/o)nder now. Paint a picture and sell it for a thousand words? I'll give you minutes, they only provide instantaneous gratification. Pop-tags: saturate the streets. We walk them alone, yet some decorate the scenery. I wrote my tag on the wall. It read: to the blind. They feel me.

Life is priceless. Have you not seen the bouquets at the cemeteries? We spend money on our dead for the time they invested in us. In the pecan grove the flowers will shine, until: my time comes. You can catch me lookin at the sky quite often. I'm not hiding it.

Stop buying shit for yourself. Sell your life to somebody else willing to spend it with you. Willing to make it worth every penny with you. The one that makes you smile wont mind the wrinkles if they were the cause thereof. Smile- take me, for a while, if not forever. I will cherish every moment.

I don't act my age. I have lived too much to be so reckless. Plus now my vested interests have outgrown my savings-bonds. Funny, isn't it? Wearing seat belts- to speed with you.

You aren't alone. I will never leave you. I will walk in your presents.

Thank you for your time.

Her

God is love-
I built her a sanctuary
in my arm(ors),and say my prayers
every midnight morning.

This is mystic, darling.
I discovered how to drift in the rift
between moons, suns, and stars;
and god- damn it you're gorgeous.

You are

Infinity, of the instant,
lost in your hand held to mine,
We don't have to die.
True love never lies.

I promise:

I'm a man of my word,
and write your verses on a daily basis,
as a praise offering.
I will be faithful.

Her- will be done.

I'm stunned by the percussive force:
my heart is beating my ribs sore
in frustration.
Save me,

Simmer through my soul.
I feel your pulse in my blood.
Wading in floods of flames,
touch.

I thought I'd seen it all,
then I lost my sight to an angel.
Walk with me, along.
I have eyes for no other.

I'm all yours.

Take me, forever, whenever you want.

Now

There was a time
when people read.

Now the shelves are full of
for-idiot help-books,
management, and health books.

Where have we left our poetry?
On 2 half-assed racks in the back corner.
Its looks somewhat like hell'n winter,
infernos and frosts, with little n between.

See,
we like mixing our fossil records,
on turntables with pistol grips.
Scratch that, flip the script.
Repeat: loop to infinity.

Most only skim pictures,
and even then, to them,
words are only symbols:
and unrepresentative of empirical reality.

Science may define gravity,
but seems to lack answers
as to its origin-
therein lies the stanza:
divinely inspired.

On a higher plane,
unafraid of being different,
flying the coop.
I survived the shark pool.

Who's tryna shoot up
a magic 8ball?

Draw.

Stop wasting away on lines of nonsense.
Read the autobiographies
of timeless,
prophets-
ghandi,
jesus, martin,
mohammed,malcolm,
buddha, scholars of truth:
Agents of the common-conscious.

Study hard,and then study harder,
because some tests aren't worth failing.

One finds freedom in the wild,
not off next exits,
or misdirected searches,
but persistent trial.
And error.

Acquitted on video evidence:
play it back,
I am not turning tricks on your eyes,
I'm just fucking with your mind.

Come over in the night.

Walk through fire,
you'll sleep well
on beds of coal.
Your heart is convulsing,
better-check your pulse.

May these words
put it all on the line.
We are all intertwined,
and equally strainuous.

Thank you for your time.

Dear Diary,

It is easy to love guns
when you've never had to use one.

Bruise from the blue steel:
these black mornings
proceed a-wake through fields
of unmarked graves.

Every day is like a funeral-
being strong,
then falling to your knees
when everyone is gone.

Everyone is gone.

I'm falling.

I pray that God
can reconcile my wrongs-
most people aren't as forgiving
as they let on.

Forgive me, for my
stigmatic palms are the remnants
of a sacrificial offering
of holding-on-too-long.

The nine's piercing cries
emanate from the lake-bottom.
"Dry your tears,
nobody hears them anyway."

Nobody knows my deepest secrets,
I've locked them away with monsters
in a stomach full of swallowed pride
and keys- to never see the dawn again.

Dreamers die young,
or fall victim to nightmares.

Fall-victim.

I've been fighting
for a lifetime:
far too long to remember,
or want to.

How I long for a full nights sleep,
for a genuine conviction of optimism,
but my dreams all died slow.

Rest in, piece.

Blue color worker

These are men,
nothing more, no-thing less.
Flesh and bone, hand-blown
by the breath of the wind.

Catch the drift.

Money is only valuable
when you have nothing to begin with.
We got head starts on addictions,
prisons, and dead ended routes.

It has taught us how to live
with faded lipstick on our cheeks
and purple hearts.

The world is a stage
we play our parts,
if only for an instant.

They say play your heart out,
I coughed it onto my palm,
and started boxing with the beat,
strumming my aorta to the song
of rhythmic feet.

We will dance,
until the sun don't shine
on our burnt backs
and calloused hands.

To the beat, we keep.

Listen'in.

Toro

We danced, in the faces of each other's imminent demises. The passion in your pupil, framed by your crimson iris, entices me nearer. Today, I will take you down. Come running to me; I am unwavering in my stance. I will stand firm, by your side.

Circumnavigating our own little word in seconds split between, you and I.

Time slows for our feet; crowds clap to the beat, of our enraptured moments. The heat goes unnoticed. I know your rage- I play into it's deafening anguish. Unrequited pursuit brought you to me, and then around to your senses. I traced the outline of your spine with the tips of my fingers. I'm wearing you down with infernal persistence. You will feel the fire pierce your shoulder blades, into your heart.

I am a gentle killer- this wont hurt; trust me.

One last charge: you lowered your head, as if to bow to the crown destiny bestows upon thee, now. Turning away, I drove the blade down smoothly, through the muscle mass, in the spot only I know how to touch. You stumbled off, alone, for the last time. The blindfold eased the bitterness of defeat.

Staggering- you fell into my arms, bleeding.

I nuzzled your muzzle and nudged you with my shoulder, as if to tell you it was safe to let go. There is no sense in holding on much longer. Finally, I felt your neck loosen as your breathing slowed. Surrender. Your soul is awaiting its fate.

Patience draws you closer, breath by breath, as silence enfolds you.

You cannot even say you love me, but I know. Your eyes give you away. They shine the brightest when I quench their flames. You won't be felled. I will make you mine, and put you out of your pain, out of the goodness of my heart- for yours.

-Matador

Fare well, address.

My pen has grown impotent.
I don't feel like I have written
anything of merit in the past
few years, just blanks
shot across drawing boards
of a braille artistry.

I will work myself harder
than any ethical disposition,
until the sweat is blended
with bloody tears
on a tasteless palette.

Give me a pen,
and I will lock my secrets in it,
without possible parole,
and etch a master plan into the bars.

I may not be back for a while.
Iamb going to attempt
to perfect
a flawed world
with words.

Reading over my notes,
I need a hole rest.
My standing may then emerge
from this depression.

Fortune

I have grown into a man, or so they tell me. I think they may be a decade late in their estimation. There are no reperations for losses of innocence, or else I would have been corrupted by wealth long before corruption itself. At least walls don't speak- they would scream every time I beat them into submission against my bloody knuckles.

This progeric condition is getting old. The midnight glows speak in ghost tones, and I translate apparitions. Once upon a yesteryear I cowered from darkness; now I drag out every second of my darkest hours.

The poet sits alone in hell's kitchen: sipping goose in an attempt to fly away from the frigid indian summer's boiling blisters. May this swan-song cathartically vanquish the greys. I want to paint a picture, but I cannot think of a thousand synonyms for black.

My affliction is ripping me into new halves, and halves-nots. These knots are cinched to hold on two. If I could go back in time, I would not rewind a minute. I have seen the promised land, and watched it break into a million jurisdictions. Justice is a cold dish, best served with smoldering coals.

One must walk through the valley to understand the mysteries of the depths. I no longer fear death. If I should die before I wake, may the wake be a celebration of ascent. I hit rock bottom a while ago, and I left it my property rights. This house is not a home. There is a mansion in the next step of destiny wherein the masses genuflect in sabbatical research.

Each breath is a blessing
and a curse.
Fuck this earth.
It is too beautiful
to appreciate
in all its birth,
and death.

Homecoming

I pushed you through the mall
in your wheelchair,
when you couldn't walk,
in hopes of stumbling across
a moment of clarity.

It's still hard to look
at the same oxygen tanks
I used to carry
under my arms.
The humming has stopped.

We seem to have only lost
a spot at the table,
but we still set it, in denial.
It's just too hard to swallow,
without scanning for your smile.

I miss you so much,
so much.
I miss the lists of names
you would drop
before catching mine-

It was a Bingo of cognition,
wherein ever remembrance
was a gain.
If only again,
one last time.

Alzheimers is like rabies-
It is not fatal,
until you realize how gone
they are.
Then you have to let them fall.

You would be so proud.
I have salvaged my soul.
I've grown into the man of the house,
now I'm taking care
of mom.

You always said I would fly,
and you weren't wrong.
I've taken off,
but it doesn't feel right
without you.

Grammy,

save me
a spot
at your table
with God.

I remember our dinners so fondly.

Ends

If time was money
there would be no second chances,
and the millionaires would live
out of DeLoreans.

Time well spent
will reveal threads spanning
cultures, races, generations,
and galaxies.

Now we are at the cusp
of the nebula,
where Zion is present.

What is the rush?

The prophets have
been marginalized.
Now the tides
are returning on us.

We would keep gas
cryogenically frozen,
and sell it
as future investments.

Light my fire;
lustful passions ignite.

I's are trying to monopolize ours.
While those wasted away too soon,
walk throughout the crowds
with sour faces.

The glimpses never end
when you know how to appreciate
the small things in life.
Let us live,

together.

Death
is certain,
and buried treasures won't
insure you heaven.

Life
is slow,
to those who know
how much it is worth.

Rainbows end
in black holes
that seep sunshine
through the earth.

These continua
are retroactive,
surviving in hearses-
driving viciously in circles.

Forgive us father, time.
For we actively seek
immortality
in ends.

War in decorum

My trips down memory lanes are ridden with dead ends. How I wish I could have saved us all. I wish I couldn't sit in paradise and feel hell licking its lips against mine, trying to kiss away my stitches I have sewed against its wishes.

I was never enough for anyone, but what else should be expected of undeveloped shoulders when placed under 6.6 sextillion tons. It stunted my growth, if only for a time. I still find it hard to hope. It seems I cannot loose my own arthritic holds without cringing: bleeding bitten lips trickling ago into rivers of unknowns.

But I live. I have ascended a throne of frozen knights and broken bones. I was bred a soldier, and I will fight until the end. These purple hearts I've urned now decorate my soul. I have come back home, fused from fuchsia tints and darkened blues, fortified by war.

Whistling in bitter winds.

The world is not as bright as it was, nor will it ever be again; however, I cannot give up now. I have come to far to fall on clouds. These stars still reflect in my arid glimpse, wishing for tears of happiness. I have not shed my skin in too many years to remember. Too many to remember. Until the end.

Once you have beaten demons, you learn to live without fear.

You learn to let go.

Blind

I don't think my vision
will be of any use
anymore.

Today I, literally,
eye-stared into the sun
and watched my focus lose
periodization,
as well as peripherals.

The heat stroke struck
my retina

and I feel, no,
know, that I will
never remember
another image
so real, yet surreal.

Looking away,
the world seemed bleached,
aside from the halo
that has inscribed itself
into the back of my eyelids.

Now I have a ring
around my iris,
whose sight is belief.

There is nothing worth seeing
once you've been blinded
by the brightest star
to ever-shine.

I am drowning in your light,
but I am not afraid
to take the dive
into darkness.

Equinox

It was winter when we first walked in the park, but now everything is green. You should see how much it has grown. Now those lonesome boughs are covered with leaves waiting to fall. Waiting, to fall into seas in shades of vermilion and tangerine. There is cover under the screen of shade: asylum from the heat. The stream has lost its chill; its babble has become as temperate as bathwaters of peace. We were here once before, but never in the spring. This resurrection sun day, death has been defeated.

Prisoner of War

She's locked inside this cage;
maybe she just doesn't know
I already knew how to pick em
right.

I will run time along trust,
until it clicks thrice,
and opens up your connection
between heart and mind.

I'm patient-
stitched myself up
in cardiac intensive care,
I can take it.
I can wait,

because you're worth eternity,
which, if multiplied
by time being equal to money,
is too much to count-
too much to pass up.

I know how it hurts.
I know how to drown
in the floods of nostalgia,
in the sensation of rain
trickling down my face.

Coming in soaking wet,
stripped down to my genes.
Pruned fingers and blank faces,
dripping through the seams
of my denim.

I had nights without sleep.
Nightmares.
Regrets.
Desires to repeat.
Regrets.

But now I see
how beautiful it is
to read to a new moon.

Time heals wounds,
and I got nothing but dates
with your name on them.
For as long as it takes.

We can watch the stars,
before chasing them.

You're all I want,
and I will spend
a lifetime sentence,
just to break
inside your gates.

Time,
to escape.
Take as much as you need.
One day I'll teach you how to fly
away,
with me.

Walk

It's hard taking two steps forwards,
and one step back,
seeing progress,
and knowing you will relapse.

These tracks never disappear.

These tracks,
leading from my hands
to the work of my mind,
whose subconscious desires
won't afford me a free pass
past- the tollgates.

The drawbridges have erased their spans.
The escape routes have been saturated with traffic.

I've kissed death so many times
that I have started growing daisies with chapstick-
waiting until both push up on each other.

I fear nothing but God,
but that's one hell of a haunting.
I often find myself at odds
with bypassing retribution,
even when even.

Jesus, I cannot stop cursing.
This garden is no Eden;
it is a pet cemetery
full of my dogs
and limp leashes.

Ye though I walk,
I still feel lost
along the way.

I found myself in the dark
and sparked my imagination.
Now I am bringing back the inferno
as a baptismal Gileadean balm.

Lighthouse

When would be a good time
to throw pebbles at your window?
I'm planning to rock your world.

I wrote you a poem on poster boards,
so that the words can mirror
the magnitude of the feelings within them.

Coast Guard certified shipping,
out on a rescue mission.
The scarlet seas are glistening,
calling me softly, listen.

I think you can read the signs;
I found a lighthouse housing:
this sunshine of mine.

I go blind just thinking of you.
I think I might have lost my sight,
for ever.

I want you to see every line
in every letter,
so that you can read between them,
into their composition.

This is what is real to me-
symbols,
cymbals-
crashing in the distance

Never saw it coming-
blindside collision
with the visions of my dreams
transcended to me.

I'm swimming against your fears,
near enough for you to hear,
me pulling you closer.

This is how fate is transmitted

It is written,
for thee.

Synergetic

Constantly fatigued:

fighting for futile ideals
in which I believe,
until I be leaved from this earth

upon my eve of occultation.

I've been warring since 777 BC,
and before AD-lineation of time
was ever conceived.

My spirit is ancient.

It guided David against Goliath,
Osiris against extinction,
Sitting Bull against disease,
the Goths against Rome,
and Toussaint L'overture against kings.

We know no defeat,
only eternal victory.
Raise your arms,
but you aint killin me,
you only wave your hands
through the endless seas.

Endless, see.

Only casting stones when provoked,
in lieu of the judgment
to be cleaved against broken homes.

However, we will not stop fighting,
regardless of how ever-many enemies
grow mauve with malice,
and green with envy;
these wounds are but wombs
bearing infancies of infantries
for better tomorrows.

We die, but these truths live on vengefully.

This fatigue
will blow over into a second wind.
We are allied with the breeze
which is, and will always be flowing,
regardless of contingencies.

You can sleep when you die.

But we are immortals,
fatigued in battles against time,
money, injustice, lies,
and sleep itself.

None shall defeat the Synergy.

Psalms

God is love,
and this is whence
she watches out
upon the world,

from pearls-

in her eyes,
in her lips,
in her smiles.

Good things come to those that wait,
but miracles come to those who are patient.

Do you know what it feels like to be a poet, and be at a loss of words? I think she does, and she should know I do to. I feel like I lose my form every time we speak. Like my feet have been swept out from under my stances.

I'm enchanted,
by her voice,
and her glances.

I think she might
not understand
her own immaculacy.

I'm barely scratching the surface,
but I can feel the tides turning
to calms.

She's a klepto
with her hands,
on my heart.

I want to touch you softly,
until you feel these songs,
I've got locked up in my blood
flood your arteries.

I think you're perfect: worth more than all the verses I will ever pen while on this earth. I would burn them all, to fall, in love, with you. I have lost my footing and I'm falling,

for you;

you are of the stars I saw shooting.
I have caught one in my arms.

It is but a flesh wound,
and she's got God,
in her heart.

She can cross,
these lines I've drawn
in the sands.

I want you more than anything I ever have. I know there is no match for this hand, on my heart; I swear, to God.

I will be faithful.

Day dreams

Sometimes I dream:

Of holding you
until my arms develop pressure sores,

Then of holding you a second more;

Of kissing you until time stops,
Or we cease to perceive its passage;
For then the passion of the moment
Can surpass past regressions;

Of translating the love note
God wrote in your soul;

Line by line:

Slowly;

Of knowing your secrets,
Because you know I will keep them
Like vows of silence;

Of stillness in your eyes,
And rest in your whispers;

Of touching your heart,
Don’t fret, I'll be gentle;
I have a thing for beats,
And I think you may be instrumental-
In fulfilling my dreams.

I want to wake up, next to you,
And feel like I was never asleep.

Paradise, lost

It is heresy, this paradise, alone.

Flashbacks, recoils,
numb just from the tone.
The thunder's clapping,
and it has struck me in the soul.

people that get hit by lightning,
I hear they cant feel cold,
but, hell, what would I know?

Not a god damn thing.
I was raised by angels,
they taught me of holy communion.
Now I hold it with the silence,
I think it really likes my music.

Ah, but to be muted.
I would speak in glances,
and none that knew me would confuse them.

Surely I'm just misunderstood,
I've learned to hide my feelings,
and now I lost them all, for good.

Two robbers,
were crucified with a king,
now I'm offering my diamond crucifixes,
for the Pontius Pilate in my genes.

Mayday.

Forgive me.
I will never be like anyone else.
Never understood how anyone felt.
Locked in prison,
writing lifetime sentences.
Come set me free.
I'm writing you, this letter,
from the cell in which I hold me,
my holiest of holies.

No chances for parolee.

Barring a miracle.

Demons

I'm dancing with old devils,
Now that they've grown horny.
We might fuck something up real good.
Time is two-stepping before me.
Back and forth.
Back.

And for this relapse
there will be hell to pay.
But nice guys finish last,
or so they say;
And they
are right.

Death Valley

I oftentimes feel like
the loneliest man in these masses-
the protestant amongst catholics,
an extra-familial bastard.

How I wish I had something to look forward to,
but if there is one thing my retrospection has taught me,
it is that the future is not always afforded you.

And loneliness is the worst poverty;

If only,
my memory bankrupture could buy intwo new beginnings,
whose solace would only be in penching the pennies
that I'm throwing into well-being,
on the Eve of a labotomy.

Wealth is wasted
when tossed into dry river basins.
These deserts have flooded my mind.
A blackbox has been caged in my ribs.

I crashed into a canyon,
now I need someone to de-cipher
the last words my heart ever captured.

Pull me out of this death valley,
the nostalgia is killing me.
And no matter how much I wish,
these lost hopes are not full-filling me.

1863

The truth will set you free.
Thus She founded a pact with me.
I would preach her name,
and she would unchain my destiny.

Hear ye, clearly,
all men are created equal
but born differently,
take, name, weight, race,
produce Timothy McVeigh's-
conceiving evil, deceived;
for you cannot liberate
the kingdom for God
in wakes,
they have slumbered.

Ignorant of solar systems,
wherein suns, moons, and stars
have coexisted since the start
that never started.

Where sons are not bastardized
where crescents are not sickles
where stars never had to be holocaust victims

They disgrace the revelation to man,
whose decrees, regardless of prophet,
have been of kindness, mercy,
and love.

I swear on the Quran, Torah, and Bible-
I aint lyin and this aint libel, or liable.
But
It is the right,
of every hue-man being
to be free.
To be remembered
without televisions.
To be given opportunity.
Immunity from hunger.
Water to drink their thirst up.
Malignancy remissions.

This cancer
is growing on the hearts of our children,
whom we keep filling with divisions,
expecting them to equate hollow masks
as true faces.

How I love thee, wretched earth,
bittersweet affliction, blessed curse.

Your slavery is a mental sickness,
an infection borne upon severance from the heart.
Something's missing
On second thought.

Give us,
us,
free.

Quantum Physics

Hello tomorrow,
your stars are all ghastly sorrows
of light that has left us, bygone.

We burnt out so long ago;
blunt roach smoke;
ashes
to dust.

Light one
for those black lung'd up,
Coughing up endings.

Off in the distance,
they're already gone.
We just don't see it yet.

Light one, for those spliffin,
because you got it raw,
and find it hard to cope with existence.

It is at the end of a tunnel vision:
though surrounded by darkness,
if you focus, it gets closer.

I have been lost in the glare,
on the fringes of forever,
Praying upon fraying seems.

Lifting the last photons
to their rightly position.

They're bleeding, across the skies-
We will just never perceive it as such.
I look into the future, sometimes eye-

Feel it.

The light is bleeding through my fingers.
Because even though stars may burn out
the light will always linger,
into
infinity.

Smokestacks

Unusually grown concrete roses
teach the Babylonians of hope, lest
their wilting contest the decrees of growth.

Sometimes you end up between a rock, and
a hard place that may delegate your cards;
but we don't fold, or hold orgami

as an art of uncommon conventions.
There are jacks of all trades, some of them jack,
some of them tuckin a gun in their laps,
like a napkin, the casket is coming
to catch that which awaits its ends in a
Stack. It's all smoke and mirrors. Appearance.
Looks can deceive thus some have come to be
leave only when they see their blood isn't

Green

Chuch Mouse Quiet

three kids, a trailer, and frames
of a hallow distant home
her dead-beat husband never finished
15 years ago

Children couldn't go to college
Knowledge cost too much
Momma only got 20 grand a year
which will always prosper us:
Prosperous?

Slaving out and starving
crushed
'n the recycling been garbage

Always wanted something more
it's just hard, when the cards fall,
all fall,
down.

Lady Luck fucked her marriage up.
Cheating unbalanced carriage rust.
Fucked.

Now the circumstances
are swallowing kids alive;
down on bended knee,
facing the truth
that fingers crossed behind.

Dear God,
get me out of hell.
Money speaks
and thus your thoughts are hushed.

As silent as a church mouse
three kids, in a trailer
in a

Framed
Predestination.

Immolation

I don't even remember what she looks like,
ain't that a shame?
another amnesic glitch erased from the matrix

i would like
to control an alternate reality
and delete these restarts.
restarts.
restarts.
Void of brain tumors;
dependent upon defibrillators just to live:
constantly losing my conscience.

I forgive and forget,
the emphasis being on the latter.
Now these ghosts are amidst
my everyday matters.

Im ghost-busting,
dan aykroyd excluded.
I have been hanging from this noose,
the time has come to loose it.

I take this day as my desire,
she is the light of my darkened fire.
I have discovered the solar flares,
and wish the grace of immolation;
until death do us part.

Just let me face it
and taste the loss of my fondest breath.
I think I will discover the sweetest things in life.

Gang Violence

I pray that, one day, every man will be able to love his brother, regardless of the color of his flag. Far too many have fallen while sparring in their drab.

21 gun salute.

My cousin doesn't even discuss it. Killing for apparent reasons. I know it affected him because he has nightmares that make him scream from his sleep. I love him, but I just wish he could dream again.

5 and 6 gun salute.

My Cuz spilled blood,
Blood spilled floods of segregation.
Such rage for opposite spectra,
Who can stem these tides of hatred.

You wanna be a soldier? Real life warrior? Maybe you haven't seen the aftermath of battle. Trails of ashes leading home. Killing for colors: read and blew through bones.

So before you strap up,
ask yourself
are you ready for war?

I've seen one too many fallen soldiers.

The world doesn't need one more.

Projected Reality

Drunk,
Dead:
Lost in themselves.
Forcefed life, locked in a cell.

And they be shootin up everynight.
Exhuming vain contusions.

Homogeneity,
everybody's the same;
but most these motherfuckers wont realize it
until every body's the same.

Inheritance deferred.

Rest in peace
to my brothers,
lost,
inside these
cement walls and steel bars.
Ill pour out a little liquor
drop,
after drop,
after shot.

Don't forget the bigger picture
looking through broken bottle shards.

She is my sunshine

She must be the extra rib

salvaged from my sunken treasure chest.

I died so many moons ago,

but she has come to resurrect-

My Soulstice.

Now I feel her hand gently forming solar winds.

Realigning metaphorms I've shattered from within.

The day I look into her eye the earth will be eclipsed

By the reflection of God I think I will see inside her glimpse.

Have I mentioned I've never spoken to her in private.

I think that's exactly what I need.

Someone that doesn't care about the past,

Someone that trusts that I am free.

Because I've been running from myself so long

Some have mistaken that run as me.

I know you've been hurt,

But I can heal it if you let me.

I've learned from experience.

I know what its like,

To reassemble 1,000,000 pieces

into four chambers.

I have solved this puzzle my whole life.

It assembled a map with an x marked

On your heart.

I want to unlock the shine

in your eyes,

if you'll just let me go blind.

When I sneeze around you,

Just take it as me saying you're beautiful.

Because you are.

I woke up this morning, and realized I had been hibernating for years. I have not experienced life because I have been afraid. I fucked so many things up that I thought it'd be best to lock myself away, in doing so I became a monster. I have tried to repress all of the nightmares, daydreams, and insomnia, but now I feel rested. I realize it takes more courage to confront your demons than it does to embrace them.

I am now going to kill everything that made it so easy to kill. This is suicide for the sake of life. I will no longer try to be someone I am not, nor will I cower from who I am becoming. I feel blind now, and it is the most captivating loss of sensation I have ever experienced. I have bottled pieces of eternity in heartbreak and now I am getting drunk on reconstruction. I am going to try to find the hope I lost a lifetime ago.

The past is the past and I will not fall into its bear traps.

I encourage everyone to love like you've never lost, to breathe every breath like you are suffocating on thin air. Stare into the sun. You may lose your vision, but it will be worth the insight.

God bless you all.