Broken in pieces like thin branches for wood fire;
Worn out like a cloth fifty years old;
A trunk invaded by termites,
Rolling down a hill full of rocks;
A carpet walked over with ***** shoes,
Covering the floor of a once busy hallway,
Now abandoned and invaded by mold;
The paleness of a ruin one thousand years old,
Submerged in a thick sea of fog;
The rust on an old broken truck,
Mixed with dust to form an adhesive substance,
Eating the metal through to its core;

Combine this all together,
And imagine it's a feeling.
That's how I am feeling right now...

The empty space on my bed where you should be is occupied only by the thought of you

The empty curve of my waist where your arm should be resting is filled only by the desire for it to be there

The empty space between my fingers where yours should be entwined with mine is occupied only by the thought of it happening

The empty feeling of my lips without the company of yours is filled with the impossible wish

Your quick kiss is what I've been waiting for. Longing for. Lusting for.
The icy feeling pressed against my skin, sharp and needy.

I know you're no good for me, I tried to stay away. But the desire was too strong. The need.

It's been building for a long time. I needed release.
No more foreplay, I wanted to go all the way.

And I did. I finally gathered the courage, and I am enjoying the blissful aftermath.

Be as weary of Perfection as She is of You.


She'll become a craving, a need, a drug.

It starts off slow, until you get a taste.

Dark, inevitable, curious and sloppy; You get your first taste of Her. Casual and carefree, sloppy and fluid.
Blissful.

It picks up momentum when you go back.

Hopeful, deliberated, secondguessed and spontaneous; You get your second taste of Her. Slow and careful, foreign and desired.
Blissful.

It gathers speed when you stumble back.

Wanted, craved, longed for and dreamed about; You get your third taste of Her. Rushed and impulsive, lust-filled and needy.
Blissful.

It goes downhill when you are already waiting.

Anticipated, eager, excited and anxious; You get your fourth taste of Her. Explosive and passionate, raw and craved.
Blissful.

Gaining momentum and escalating further when you do not leave.

Built-up, painful, needed and difficult.
You get your fifth taste of Her. Rough and sharp, painful and needed.
Blissful.

Now you have the taste and it's no longer controlled.

Dangerous, destructive, unsustainable and fascinating. You want more of Her. Curious and captivating, different and the exception.
Blissful.

Inevitable in its destruction and absence when you fall.

Poisonous, addictive, toxic and intoxicating. You need Her. Craved and harmful, exciting and deadly.
Blissful?


Be as weary of Perfection as She is of you.

Stand tall, but not too proud.
Speak up, but not too loud.
Don't be afraid to be yourself,
but only when allowed.
Try not to inconvenience
and stay out of the way,
but when it's deemed appropriate,
say what you have to say.

For Sunday mornings, and
Autumn air
For sisterly love,
For a father’s humor, a mother’s knowledge

For The Book Thief and To **** a Mockingbird,
For every word that has touched my soul
And for the souls who shared them with me

For sorrow, joy
For kindness, friendship
For all the blessings a day gives.

For all of the times I did not say it
I say it now

A convolution of illusions
a mirror of houses

you can touch
But you can't look

home is where the heart felt
the window of opportunity
is not as it appears

theres no door for
opportunity to knock here

Examine the picture
the landscape rocks bare

backyard is cinder blocks
jungle of concrete
gated community
black metal fences

grass ain't greener
on the other side
it's just pretending

Artificial turf
intellectual property
constructed
on top of dirt

priceless
nothings worth

Building
a million stories
No won's heard
Wild cattle famished
Tragic loses perturbed

I gather
well rather disturbed

Collective incidents
Between the cracks
Inconspicuous
You had to observe

For the eminent
Collapse may seem
Absurd

A Foundation built
Upon a house of words
Could stand and withstand
As far as we've known

I used to spend my Friday nights in a movie theater with you.
I used to spend my Saturdays in a park with you
or on the couch with you.
Since you have been gone I've been spending my Fridays drunk
at a house party until 3am.
I wake up in another's house on Saturday morning.
I often ask myself if I miss the taste of movie theater popcorn
or the crisp leaves on the ground on a Saturday morning with you.
Then I have to remind myself that the popcorn started to taste like regret
and the leaves on the ground were only just dead.
And I can't possibly miss you.

The FBI chief, Mr. Comey,
was loved by Trump like his best *****.
For he went around hintin'
about emails and Clinton,
making Trump fans excited and foamy.

But then Comey provided reflection
upon Trump aides and Russian connection.
Trump did protest and howl,
stamp his feet and cry foul,
for the tide has turned since the election.

Trump thinks Comey is guilty of slander,
though his Hillary probe raised no dander.
So I guess Trump's excuse
is what's good for the goose
simply does not apply to the gander!

So why Donald Trump am I hounding
through this verse and this poetic pounding?
It's Trump's hypocrisy
that so motivates me
and we're used to it!... That's what's astounding!

I feel as if I'm lost, deep inside of a well. The only voice I hear is my own
bouncing off of the cold stone wall.
I shout
I scream
my lungs burning with such rage
such passion
that I will never understand
that I never want to feel again
I just want you to love me

it's been months
but it feels like it's been a lifetime
you still don't love me.
my tears fill my imaginary well
and I don't know what to do
I can swim to the top
and live a life that will never satisfy me
Or I can stay at the bottom of my well
drowning.
Maybe once I'm gone
people will finally hear me, I decide