I write on anything.
It's an obsession.
I look around and I dig deep into my thoughts.
I write and pour my thoughts on cheap, crumpled pieces of paper.
Then throw it away.
Along with my past.

m.d.

As the sun sets and a darkness falls over the city, there is one who rises.  Although his body has been broken and his mind has begun to grow frail, he will continue to fight until he meets his mortal end.  He's faced jokes, riddles, luck, birds, ice, vines, and even his own mind.  A child once tortured by the winged creatures of the night, consumed by the guilt of his parents' demise.  Now as an adult he uses his fear to torment his enemies and the guilt that once consumed him is now the only motivation he needs.  Though he cannot live forever, the symbol of hope he has created will last on for eternity.  And the face beneath the mask may change, but that light in the sky calls only one... He is the Batman.

If I had wings
I would not fly:
I sure would preen.

I woke from my nap
And I stretched back
And made a weird noise
And I thought
If you were here
You'd find it adorable
While every other man
Would probably
Be taken aback
And look at me
With digust or
Unappealment.

I thought about you
And how you made me feel
So special.

"I knew this girl once,
she had long hair, so long it whispered tiny kisses along her hips and waist
she had the oddest bluest eyes i'd ever seen, the color of the sky right before it gets completely dark
her thick, long eyelashes framed those eyes, and freckles formed constellations across her cheeks
i could almost draw the big dipper and Orion's belt on her milky white face.
She didn't know i existed but i admired her from afar. I could tell she was educated- She always had some form of poetry in her hand. But of all the things i could have noticed about her i noticed her bookmarks. She would lose them all the time, i would see her chasing after the scraps of paper as they flew through the wind down the street. She'd stick anything in between those pages, wrappers of all sorts, leaves, pennies, shoelaces, once i even saw a page ripped from a different book. It became my favorite game to guess what the next bookmark would be.  After awhile she stopped chasing the various bookmarks across the city and she cut all that long hair off, then awhile after that she started using unoriginal, uninspired plain old bookmarks.Then even awhile that she stopped bringing books altogether, until one day she didn't show up. Nobody knew that beautiful, mysterious, bookmark making girl was locked up inside her own mind. Nobody knew she hated her long hair and her freckles and even those baby blues. Nobody knew that she couldn't stand to live in her skin anymore so much that she swallowed a couple pills one night to ease away the pain. Even worse was she didn't know i watched her for so long and thought she was the most interesting human being i'd ever encountered. That girl committed suicide because she hated herself learn from her mistake, my mistake, everyone who ever noticed her bookmarks mistake, and don't do this, don't off yourself with a .45 before you've even had a chance to live" he's desperate now  
"please please you don't have to do this" he sputters

I answer simply " I never was much of a bookmark girl, i always dog-eared my pages"

*bang