On a gloomy, rainy, day
I was supposed to enjoy the hunt
"Bring us venison for the winter time",
They told me,
Then followed by "You cannot"
"You won't shoot anything out here. And you cannot dress the deer in the woods,"
he hissed,
"for the woods will reek with guts"
"Isn't that what nature is for?" I argued,
"To grow over what is dead and lost?"
I yelled at my stepfather,
"You may treat our house like it is a museum, and not being lived in.
But outside there is a different world where death and life begin again"
So I cried and locked myself in my room,
Another day will go to waste
I hung up my bow and arrows,
And whispered to myself,
"Someday."

Coffee, coffee
Wake me up
Coffee, coffee
Until my day is done
Coffee, coffee,
Keep me from killing others
Coffee, coffee,
I'm turning out just like my mother
Coffee and its addicting creamers
Coffee makes my digestive tract cleaner
Coffee coffee
The love of my life
Coffee, coffee, coffee

I'd be a big liar if I were to write a happy poem today,
as if my problems were all washed away
But I guess we all have problems, ado,
so let's sew the fine lines together;
of me and you
Tell me your issues,
mine could be worse
Tomorrow they could take me away in a hearse
but let's not get excited,
life is a blessing in a curse
so write a happy poem and bury your past
Smile when you can and make the good times last

Table-side puddles;
that fell from my eyes,
are smearing the the ink on my papers
Coffee mug, too big to hide
has become my best friend these
last few nights
And so I drift between what's real,
and this dreamy state of time
Coffee mug, ink, papers, and tears
Keep my dreams alive

Build, build
build up the anxiety
build, build,
build up the atrocity
build it up and break it down
build your bridge with a smile,
wreck it with a screaming frown
Build, build
and never know
That the hardest bridge to cross
is better let go

Singing songs
and painting
Making love
and singing
Bright colors,
soft sounds,
Fishing for happiness
with a frowning lure;
'Seems like
my only faith,
is in temporary cures.

Pluck from the front,
Pluck from the back
Give in to your addiction
That glues your head to a hat
You want to wear your hair down in curly waves?
Or fishtail braid it,
Or twist it to the side someday?
You can't even part it down the middle,
Without revealing a bald spot
That is the size of your face
You feel the stress, so you pluck it all away
Black out; keep plucking and
Forget about the time
See the hairs on the floor and mourn over what once was mine