cover your eyes.i remember i came over to your houseand we watched them fall.we crouched in front of the dimly glowing boxand tried to figure out what we should be feeling while we watched it all unfold in front of us.we knew we were watching people, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands leave this world.but we just saw smoke and we heard reporters screaching over one another trying to comprehendit while maintaining a professional appearence.but we knew that all humans watching this were trying not to break from the completely overwhelmingflood we were all feeling.i noticed you were crying.you didnt know anyone personally, but your heart was always the biggest and i'm sure you were tryingto make peace with someone up there and wondering why them, and why not someone else.and i know you were never a religious person, despite your upbringing, and in that moment when peoplewere emerging, exhausted, confused and thankful, i knew you never would again. how could any god possiblypick fav
at best.i tired to sum it up in a way that i knew your addled brain could grasp.i'd gotten used to simplifying things for you when you were like this.but from my perspective, this give and take of ours left me feeling like i waschasing that bus that turned up earlier than my brain or the timetable wasready for, and i try and run across the street to reach it. sometimes i do,and i get to rest and breathe. other times i almost reach it, but as my foothits the other side of the road it pulls away and i have to sit there and hopeit comes back around before it gets dark.it was a clumsy way of describing it at best.but i felt right with how much of it was up to somehigher unseen power that most of the time seemed against me.
against this cold.maybe if i had drunken more milk my bones would have been stronger,maybe if i had not read so many magazines i wouldn't have spent all of my senior year tearing myself apart and trying to puke my insecurities out.maybe if i hadnt had spend so many nights out with him,maybe if i had have gone to colorado with you that summer.maybe if i had have picked those fucking secrets out from beneath your teeth,and peeled them from under your tongue.maybe then i would have been able to stop you.maybe then i wouldn't be here.maybe you would.
theres got to be another way.you made me so damn sure if i ever had the chance to burn something more substantial than just some metaphorical bridges.like maybe i could set myself of fire and be reborn or just have a complete re do and try my luck at the draw of life again and hope i get an existence that doesn't make me want to just go extinct or curl up in a ball.or at least one that had some better timing cause i'm sick of finding my way back into your life on days when all you smelllike is death or him (which to me is the same thing) and i always smell failure and utter rejection on myself when i finally make it back to my apartment after shuffling around the city like a lovesick zombie or just a lesser version of whoever i think i would be if you would stop choosing him over me.like last night when he left, you came around and it was like once he leaves your field of vision you forget about him, like hes a god damn doctor who villian. and we talked about pocket relics and how you found the movie stub from
your parents dont need a ghost.i couldn't sleep last nightcause i kept picturing youand then my memory trippedand i remembered the summer we spentcramped in your tour busand how before i opened my eyes completelyyou and himlooked them same.and i felt my heart stopimagining how your parents must feel.and then i stopped againthinking how he must feelevery time he looks in a mirror.
To Kill an ArtistIf you were to kill an artist's will,You would be killing their skill.If you were to kill an artist's skill,You would be crushing their soul.If you were to crush an artist's soul,You would cripple their emotional being.If you were to cripple an artist's emotional being,You would be shredding their self-worth.If you were to shred an artist's self worth,You would be killing the artist themself.If you were to kill an artist themself,You would be a murderer. If you were to kill an artist in any way possible, through telling them that they aren't good enough, through telling them they should give up, through telling them they'll never meet their dreams or goals, through telling them they should just stop trying-You'd be killing someone- Someone that the world could have known, someone the world could have recognized, someone the world could have appreciated and cheered them on and helped them through life-Something that rarely happens- But could have.If only you d
Dear Universe,Can you tell 16 year old me that I'm 20 now and I made it out alive. She won't know what you're talking about, but at least she'll know it's possible.
What do you believe in?Do you believe in God .I do. If you dont believe in God believe in yourself and love. Love can heal many wounds. Do you believe in hell. To me it is a state of mind but evil does exist . Do you believe in heaven. I do. We all shine on like the beautiful stars . The question is what did you do with your life?Did you make a difference to someone. Money cant buy love but love can move mountains. Do you have faith in anything. Have faith in the power within your heart. Do you have hope? Hope for peace. Hope for a better world. I am a dreamer but I am unique. Think life is short friends . I i will live it each moment every second with awe and love. Love is the most powerful weapon use it with wisdom. Love with a honest heart and courage. Peace brothers and sisters. We are all a human family.
WeakSatan preys on the weakest of us.He plagues the minds of the broken.We who are torn in twoThat is who he plunges his fangs into.
Sanctuary of an AuthorA staircase of pages,A banister of words,Carpets of similes,Chandeliers of verbs.A door of metaphor,A floor of phrase.Rooms of nouns,Walls of essays.A window of insight,With panes of satireLooking out warmlyOn dead trees of culture.
Nothing (Poem)NothingThe feeling of an empty soulWhat in this universe can make me whole?What do you feel when you are letting out your last breath?Do you feel anger, resentment, misery, woe?Are these what you feel as you walk closer to death?What i feel, what i transpire, what i hope to be, is nothing.So that my mind can reach new heights, enlightenment, heaven, a new spiritual existence.Once i become nothing, all will be laid cease, i will not have to careabout a thing.Let my mind become blank, my body laid bare, as i sink into the the abyss.And become the eternal nobody.
internal.sometimes i feel like your skeletal systemi wrap around your translucent skinand protect the soft pinkflesh within,i guard your heartand your lungsand keep you upright.you don't see me,but without me you'dbe nothing.