Childhood is awe
Youth is uncertainty
Adulthood is steady realisation
Middle age is bleak acceptance
Old age is beating or succumbing to all
It all depends on what you did,
What crazy suicidal tendencies you had
When you were uncertain about everything.

Insanity is a gift
Few relish like you
So if you are unsure of your footing
Don't wobble, dance
If you are unsure of what you will find
Don't stretch your hand out, charge forth!
****** noses, cringeworthy memories and broken relationships may spew forth, but
Nothing
Hurts
Like
Regret
In
An
Unnused
Insanity.

tracing the words 'already gone' into crumpled up sheets I couldn't find the sanity to wash your forevers out of
spitting up blood yet only tasting your name floating out of everyone's mouths like your name was anything less than holy
kissing every vein down your perfectly pieced body because god took lightning and ran down your skin leaving a road map to guide every blonde haired beauty to a one night hotel called your arms
running my finger tips down every part of your body you finally let the thunderstorms in your head touch long enough to leave a damage that left you on a search for a pain reliever that didn't scream her name

i will fill you with apologies
let them flow through your teeth

i will give you roses in the form of words
clean of their thorns
growing without their soil

i will fill every protagonist gap in your story, and
be the "you" in each of your poems

i will be the stump of every tree you cut, and
seeds of every tree you plant

i will make you one hundred
as i die out as a hero;
your zero

Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is ******, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
      I am the captain of my soul.

the mile ride home doesn't feel so brief, and
on my way home i need to stop by the jet wash
now that you took our favorite mixtape
i realize that this lonely war is quiet
i can hear the engine humming
yesterday it was muffled by your breathing

isn't it odd?
i'm sure you didn't smile triumphantly either

there's just too many locks i hold, and
i can't remember which one's for home

tonight there's a fire in texas
& it's screaming out for the all the bodies it's lost there
in some grand american war
in someone else's glorious battle

the backyard tree was too high for you to climb
& so you took a jaunt to the brooklyn bridge and jumped
to see what it was like to fly

& tonight there's a fire in her chest that bleeds
for her father's bones to be buried next to hers
even though for years he didn't know her name
or what her laugh sounded like
i guess he forgot to check the post

& tonight there's a broadcast on the radio
the presidents been assassinated
& somehow that's your fault
for being to open about your love for your best friend, tom
who also happens to be a boy

& tomorrow there'll be an earthquake in memphis
& it'll be because there's too much *** on tv
god must be flapping his wings hard enough to shake
our great and grand scheme of things

& yesterday a little girl lay awake in her bed
counting her ribcage to make sure she can see every bone
she's praying she won't lose track of them under the meat

& tonight i will drink a tall glass of wine
so i can feel something
other than all the pain we've created for each other