His journey started
When his mother abandoned him
Leaving him for dead
With a father
That was hardly ever home

He grew up
Not knowing what was next
He thought his life was perfect
Till he heard
The mother he knew wasn't his

He wanted answers
Grew into a depression
Anger and hatred boiling
Fueling the rage
That would soon be seen

He contemplated his suicide
Attempted it but failed
Something wanted him to live
He still contemplates
just never attempts

He slept with women
Having meaningless ***
Never staying for too long
Lost to his world of dispair
Creating demons for himself

He hasn't cried
Since he was eight
He watched his family fall apart
Dropping like rocks
Hoping for his time to come

He writes poetry
He draws endlesly
Wanting his emotions
That stain his soul
To disappear into the words and lines

He thought he was in love
So many times before
But they only deserted him
when those words
slipped off his tongue

Now he sits
Thinking constantly
About how the future would be
If the past wasn't so hard
Just how simple his life could of been

But when a girl
Walked into his life
Curly hair and a bright smile
Beauty crippling him
He said hello

When he left
All he did was think about her
She followed into the next grade
He was overjoyed
And he knew he was in love

He took a leap of faith
And said '' I love you''
She shrugged it off
Like the words themself
Had no meaning or value

He strived to prove to her
That he truly is in love
He thinks about her
He wants to comfort her
When she thinks she's not perfect

He finally convinced her
That she was never
Going to lose him
But it wasn't enough
He wanted her to know his demons

She asked countless times
To see his heart
So he gave it to her
And said ''Take a look for yourself
This is why I'm a mistake''

A waste of time and life
A waste of space and air
Is what he thinks of himself
A monster worst than any evil
That he created in the dark

She only told him
She loves him once before
He just wants to be hers
To be there even more
So she will never be alone

He thinks he's not good enough
That he can't make her happy
He's probably right
She never proved him wrong
And may never

He wants to kiss her
To love her
Go to sleep holding her
And wake up to her smile
Each and every day

He write poems for her
Thinking endlessly of her
But doesn't know where to start
When he's never felt like this before
Hoping she can help him

He wants to hear those words
Not I love you
But I want to give you a chance
He wants to ask for that chance
But too scared of the answer

He looks into the mirror
Ask the reflection some questions
Hoping for a better answer
Only getting what he wants
Not what he needs to hear

She loves him
He loves her
They want the same
But don't known where they stand
Still stuck in thier own fantasies

An unknown mans life
Is what he lives
No one knows who he is
What he stands for
Or where he came from

He's just a shadow
Like flames licking at your feet
Waiting to be heard and known
He's the poet born with rage
Letting his emotions be known

His work doesn't reach out
To every man, woman, or child
But to those who suffer
From countless days of pain
But he remains unknown

She encourages him on
She is his muse
The love he can't have
The Juliet to his Romeo
The only person keeping him sane

He stands on a cliff
Letting the ocean spray
kiss his face
As he listens to the calming winds
With her close to his heart
Thinking of his next poem

When the serpents swim, and the air currents breathe,
A blackbird will fall from the sky.
Her wings will be dank and *****,
matted,
with a mixture of blood and red wine.
Her beak will be broken.
Her eyes clawed.
Her tongue lashing
Her talons bruised.
Her bones crushed.
Yet,
She will stare with the determination of a thousand willows,
She will bore into the minds of a sordid plenty,
She will imprint her soiled likeness into the face of the earth.
And she will say,
“I
have
lived.”

"my hands
will never forgive
each other"
misery
but,
"my face
will always forgive
your hands"
mystery.

I know about lying on broken bones, beading into my back.
She was missing something.
She was lying on hands searching through the trench coat of a bathroom romance, watching butterflies melt,
She was becoming herself
At four thirty am I write her account, embroidered in a diary of lullabies,
“this is what death must feel like, being  left alone in a street screaming of footsteps and blacked out whispering.”
She threw deliverance, caked over old vengeance, out of the car window with daybreak’s kisses. She writes,
“I sit in the heavy sleet of the delta drowning in resurrection, grime from age wipes over me once,
twice,
The broken blood pools out of ‘I love you’s’ and islets.”
She slept with the darkness.
“Prayers don’t come for me anymore.”
She glitters, shivers, tactless as a teacup in an earthquake,
She is awake.
”I am awake.”
She documents God- "I feel God,"
- in herself. "In myself.”
There is a silence.
A burning, left, cold to dry alone,

This is for her.
Call it, my face, swathed in the impenetrable darkness when it is no longer my own, call it an aunt’s love when a mother’s doesn’t suffice any longer. Call it,
cigarette buds and elevator rides to death’s door. Call it power bubbling up from the violation.
This is for you; call it Cuban cigars, show tunes, and Marylyn Monroe;
call it misery. Missing, call it hues and paint, my life prostrated on a disgruntled canvas. Call it fate.

This is for you.
Call it liquor stains and tarot cards in a fit of ecstasy. Epilepsy, call it the most intricate balancing act of existence.
An unseen performance, a lyric with no voice,
“a cry in the night”
”a scream of supplication”
The hunters’ march to death, the Holy Grail’s melting between your fingers, civilization pouring through veins,
“death, destruction, life, happiness, Azrael, Abbadon, blood, Rome!”
“I don’t want to feel this!”
Call it whispers of unspoken meetings and witches in the night, threatening,
“I know you!”
“No you don’t! Leave me alone.” Recognition. “I don’t want to listen…”
She writes,
“I loved you…
On purpose and…you left me,
with,
myself.”

Let's set sail
and float without fail
even if we go blind we'll read whole books in Braille
and life will never get stale
we'll drink tea and we'll live free as she and he
her and him let's do it on a whim
you'll be thought of before me
I'll even sign a decree
or a contract
it's love when we come in contact
and I believe it as fact
so let's make a pact
to set sail and never come back