S.A.D
why do you do this to me?
i get rush of tears pleading to form and drip out. i hold so much back because there isn't a reason right now. then i look back at my flaws, give me some time so i put reality at a pause. i went to go cry it off. i have no reason but it still hurts. keep me moving i don't want this to work. why must this give me chills? i have yet to learn so bring up some music and take me out of social. i would rather jam and write with nature, express it and let the tears fall from my eyeball.
Look what i almost completed, the trying was worth it wasn't it. Please S.A.D don't do this to me. i was doing okay for a second then all the sudden i lost the happiness. got the bad rush of the Sadness. kills my dream, what was i daydreaming about again? don't matter now i want it to go so my wounds don't have to open. To myself I think what happens in reality? if i showed them loneliness is more of a cavity. when i was smiling i guess it was ugly. now that i realize i do nothing but judge my body. silence for me is something that people should fear. but for the time being I'm a share this tear. has anyone ever blasted a song and felt your throat get locked up and dry then your stomach drops because the lyrics flashed you back to the agony. or made you cry till there was your wrist dripping to a dream of wanting to be happy. sometimes i can be the happiest person and in a split second of nothing I'd break in tears. A lot of times i don't know why but then over a good session i think i can get through just need to stay strong because i am alone i don't feel any help.
   when i was thinking here comes good-bye i thought see you later you don't get to see me cry. Why s.a.d just why me on this specific occasion.

It takes all you have to be noticed sometimes
it can be work, a sport, music, hell even just in general to "blend"
never mattered how much you bled or sweat cried
all it mattered was for you to reach your objective.
Let me tell you something about being good enough.
I never shot for my looks fame power money how i can act or how good i look when i do the so called dope thing people do now a days.
Being good enough is pain, flaws, tears, bleed once in a while, sweating, improving.
Being good enough is when you can look at your loved ones in the eye and say i gave you my all.
it is dedicating and committing to what is important all around.
you have to say ***** you with a smile on your face and be able to wink at the hate and knock it off on their ***.
who cares if you cry?
I cry like you do!
I bleed like you do!
I sweat like you do!
I love like anyone can love, i care like anyone else can care.
We all are one.
we cry, we sleep, we eat, we fight, we just need to realize gossip isn't the goal to succeed.
Being so called perfect ain't worth your time.
I was taught the real meaning of good enough.
If what i told you makes sense you my friend have experienced a true success in your life. people may not say your good enough, but if you went through and looked them in the eye with tears rushing down your face admitting you gave it full blood and tear, then you are the success. if you gave it full commitment and dedication you are the best, but if you gave up what means a lot just to accomplish whats needed and suffered through it and survived the you are Good enough. you just have to be you and fight for it all.

Normal and I dated for a while,
Normal was a little high-maintenance,
Normal asks you not to laugh too loud, that's not very lady-like you know,
Normal tells you to always wear lipstick when you go out,
Normal demanded perfection.
Normal doesn't like it when your hair is messy or your nails aren't done,
Normal gets fussy when there are creases on your shirt,
Normal says, straighten that wrinkle, scrub that spot and align your smile,
Normal means business, there's no time to be sad,
Normal won't let you show your weaknesses, you must be perfect,
Perfect posture, perfect smile, oh! and don't forget that lipstick.
Normal unfortunately, wasn't for me.
So, we called it quits a while ago.
Last I heard, normal was seen trying to adjust the smile of his current love,
As for me, I fell in love with wanderlust and he's been good to me so far.

For us like any other fugitive,
Like the numberless flowers that cannot number
And all the beasts that need not remember,
It is today in which we live.

So many try to say Not Now,
So many have forgotten how
To say I Am, and would be
Lost, if they could, in history.

Bowing, for instance, with such old-world grace
To a proper flag in a proper place,
Muttering like ancients as they stump upstairs
Of Mine and His or Ours and Theirs.

Just as if time were what they used to will
When it was gifted with possession still,
Just as if they were wrong
In no more wishing to belong.

No wonder then so many die of grief,
So many are so lonely as they die;
No one has yet believed or liked a lie,
Another time has other lives to live.

I kept forgetting I was living
Thinking maybe I could zone out and wake up in a better life
Where people liked me and cared
Hurting myself was like a reality check
For me to see I was really there.
Maybe I could look into the blood and see a brighter future.

screaming and crying, not on the outside but soon
I found it dad
I found your baggie of ****
the SF muni rolls past Mariposa St
I did not want to believe it
when I saw the make shift bongs
not ****, bongs
how many of the ******* things do you need

I know it’s big in the gay scene to smoke **** before ***
but I thought you could find other ways to enjoy yourself
did your new boyfriend wean you on to it
I’ll ******* **** him
lock me up, I have always wondered if I would like solitary

you brought the make shift glass pieces to thanksgiving
you don’t even live with us anymore
but you brought it anyway
the SF muni scoots past Wawona St
guess you needed your fix
guess your kids, the genetic bits of yourself, were not  entertaining enough

I could always think
naw, I bet he is smoking hash out of those
but then I found the baggie today
in a long rectangular bag I found the shards
I cried in horror
there was room for more than 10 grams of **** in there

so now I’m on the bus headed home
I run from the bus stop all the way home
all out sprint, hoping to run myself docile
It does not work

I get to the house and find a hammer
I decide to unload my anger on an old wooden door laying on the side of the house
I get a few good swings in before the hammer head breaks off, flying across the back yard
I’m not calm yet
I get to our garage door
and I snap

I see red, I scream my throat raw and I kick our garage door
I do not expect it to cave’
but it does
I feel the weight giving out against the sole of my boot
for the first time today, I am winning at something

I kick
I see my father
I kick some more
I see my father’s addiction personified beneath my boot
It’s face miming the expression, ‘Sorry, not sorry’

I give it one final kick and inspect my handiwork
I’ll have to come back out with a different hammer to fix the door before my mom comes back home from work
****
I thought I was a calmer person than this
I go upstairs and pass out
I want you to see my grandkids, dad
you won’t be able to while on that ****
I walk by or open my garage every day
every day I think about how such a beautiful man could come to a place where **** is the answer