I am picking up the pieces
of my hazy yesterdays
before my timeline ceases
with all I've broke along the way
Although I am a wreck
I know I tried my best
I laid the path in which I step
with stone my words are etched
Can you say the same?
Can you make such claim?
I stand by my decisions made
and I have no regrets.

It doesn't hurt as it once did
Your silence killed the heart I hid
The love you claimed faded away
When you refrained toying with me
Gaining momentum, more intact
Less and less I'm looking back
Moving forward without you
No longer makes me come unglued
Youre part of me starts to disjoint
As you become a vanishing point

I've started archiving and deleting certain poems. . . I used to share with this site because I enjoyed getting input from strangers who didn't judge my life. It was great input, it helped me learn what people liked, and which lines I should incorporate into my music. But now everything is so socially driven, and I feel alot of good writings take a back seat because of it. Im going to just leave behind some of my more "frilly" poems. I made some good friends here, and read a lot of great work (with much sorting). I will still write here form time to time, but the site just isnt the same to me anymore. Keep writing folks! Its a dying art, and we need up and comers to breathe new life into it.

Don't
  you
have
   some
other
  ****
to
  ****
for
endorsement?

I'm starting to dream again
stopped dwelling in my sins
I quit fearing feelings I've numbed
since we first began
I stopped wondering when
accepted whats within
There is no need to feel complete
I can live on a whim

In my younger
more passionate years
I used to care enough
to command attention
but now
all my ***** are missing to give
So I'm sorry
if I don't pack the prose
or hold all the mysticism of the universe
condensed into one quick sentence
for your small A.D.D minds to absorb
into a nice little package
that you can like
with the simple click of your mouse
but sometimes
I feel the need to ramble
and occasionally
I even enjoy
making enemies
to give meaningless
poems like these
a little substance
but its nearing its end
that few
probably reached the watermark
but if so
you can go
onto your next poem
or videos
of cats playing keyboards.

Just when I think
I have pulled away far enough
I am pulled right back
without any intervention
by you
Yet I stir
in my desolation
awaiting
another to arrive with scissors
sharp enough
to cut me loose