Why, when a baby cries,
we feel potential.
Like we know that his life
is the best its ever going to be
right now.
And we ponder telling them
that it only gets worse
but we stop short,
fearing maybe then he'll never stop.
But life does become better-- meaningful.
Sometimes.
However if when we are born
it is a marvelous accident,
then why do we scoff at oblivion.
Why do we strive to be more
than those who came before
and why the hell
are we concerned with disproving
heaven.
Why exactly can we find meaning
in a place that was formed out of chaos.
Why, when we see a baby laugh,
do we smile back.

I've got a loss of words,

I feel nothing but everything
and I'm not sure what it is

but nothing is quite right
but then again, nothing is quite wrong

I think I've lost my mind in the
thoughts of..

How can I be so blind?
Who am I again -
whats your name?
look at the stars, they shine so bright.

Get out of my head
I want to get out of my own head
please lets not do this

You're a beautiful boy, I love you
I hate you
who are you?
hold me close keep them away

I can't do this I want to die.
I feel nothing,
I want to feel.

Where does the money go?
I work, I toil, I bleed, I sweat;
But I have not one thing to show.

Maintaining highs but forever low,
I smoke, I fear, I fall, I fret;
Where does the money go?

Whichever way the wind does blow.
To myself I am in debt,
But I have not one thing to show.

An omnipresent malicious glow,
Resounding like a string quartet;
Where does the money go?

Perhaps I know...
Do I regret?
But I have not one thing to show.

Life's everlasting ebb and flow
Just goes to show how I forget-
Where does the money go?
But I have not one thing to show.

when i'm next to you in your bed and i'm not even tired
it's usually no problem getting to sleep
when i'm ******* exhausted on my couch by myself,
i toss and turn for hours

this is *******

For the people who read this
It's not just a game
we've all got emotions
and we've all gone insane.

More than once I've tried to push open a door that said pull,
I suppose it's not a coincidence that I have never pulled thoughts
from my head without at first trying to push them away.

Safety precautions say that most doors should open outwards
from an enclosed room, says that it's easier to escape if there were a fire
-there's a fire inside of me, but my door opens inwards
and I'm locked in the corner of the burning room I call my head.

There's a sign over a door in the building I work at,
it says 'exit' in a red light -which I found quite ironic,
if red means stop, and exit means leave, where do I go?

Most of life is spent in anticipation and haste,
anxiety and fear of mistake;
what changes have occurred that have made life a competition?
We were taught as children that 'slow and steady wins the race,'

so why am I speeding up at yellow streetlights,
and running towards red exit signs?

(NJ2014) © All Rights Reserved.

Down that road
Is a place I never wanted to see,
A sound I never wanted to hear,
A painful past I never wanted to feel
Yet it defines most of me.

Down that road
Is a life I used to live --
An unforgettable memory;
A test that wasn't easy
Yet I keep on taking it.

Down that road
Is a secret I never knew
A mystery that had no clue
A lie that seemed to be true...

Down that road
Is a feeling I couldn't bear
Feelings of anger and despair;
A world that didn't seem to care
A sadness I couldn't compare.

...

But down that road
Is a strength I've gathered
A faith that emerged
A price I've earned;
And a lesson learned...