My heart feels light
and my head is clear
I can breathe.
My time is to focus on me.
Not you, not her, not us, not we, just me.
It may seem rude, or maybe selfish,
but I cannot care.

The sky seems blue
and my smile is bright.
Worry no longer plagues my heart.
Deep breaths.
In and out.
Out and in.
This is a time for me.

I must love myself with extraordinary passion before I push to love you.
My passion is extending for miles and the weight has been lifted.
I am free from all the shadows of the night
and all the aggressiveness that I would fight.

My smile is bright.
My heart is light.
The sky is blue.
My head is clear.
Solace engulfs my air.

A dark thought carries like a spider replicating itself  This dark though i carry....

Embracing the darkness to get what you want sure you get what you want FINALLY but in reality theres a cost  Humanity lost, looking like a total a**hole , becoming what you do not want to become  this darkness i should not embrace is jealousy because when i am jealous i am crazy i am not me its like a demon has taken my body to commit certain  horrors upon Humanity   Embracing the darkness gets you to your dreams and goals but at the same time the you give up everything else to attain that goal  which i won't do i will take the high road to see her again i will not stop and i will do it the right way but being a man and confronting this feeling head on and any man gets in my way   just to say  i can control the darkness inside of me and wont change me because when i use it two men will enter but one man will be left

there was a clock. tick, tock.

it's an endless ticking. consuming me. i can't write, i can't read, i can't sleep. tick, tock.

i hear her voice inside my head. sometimes she screams. tick, tock.

i can't stop thinking. poetry comes in short, five-syllabled lines, always there and never gone. tick, tock.

reverberating tones; beeps, hums and clicks. keyboard tapping, heavy breathing. tick, tock.

one day, it stopped.
it's going to be okay.

people cover me in a thick blanket of comforting words and tense remarks, biting at my skin and making imaginary bruises, tender to the touch.

i'm still here. i was never gone. my wings are taking me nowhere and my shoulder blades ache from the weight, but still they hold on.

i walk on the footpath of a smoke-filled congested road, always invisible but never unseen.

desire for something i don't know. but it's there. never gone

I skip that song again.
Too many memories still hang on the words,
the notes clang like old glass bottles
the woman with the red scarf tied to the oak tree,
they knock in the wind, fragile whiskey ghosts,
of times to sacred to be remembered now.
So I'll skip that song
till the bottle strings break,
and my someday-daughter asks
about the snowflake shards of glass
beneath the old oak tree.

In that moment, every neuron in my brain was perfectly aligned.
They knew something I didn't, and I don’t think they wanted to tell me, either.
I had to figure it out on my own, hoping to not be mislead.
You whispered to me that you enjoyed stealing the moisture from my lips
and I whispered back that you took the oxygen from my lungs in the process
but I liked the crushed, suffocating feeling in the pit of my chest as I secretly long to feel it again.
I tolerated the bags under my eyes as my face buried in your neck became more and more important to me (it started to feel like home)
and told me not to be ashamed of them because they were proof that you had gotten the attention you deserved.
My sleepless nights resulted in page after page of the notes I took so I would eventually know your soul like the back of my hand.
I only like to write when I’m suffering from insomnia anyways, because that’s when things start to make sense. (Like you, you made sense to me)
Just like things only make sense to you when your breath reeks of intoxication.
I studied the veins on your wrists until I knew them well enough to see the picture with my eyes closed
as you studied my fingertips and made me believe that you could perfectly connect the dots of my pores and still know it was me even if you went blind.
You wanted to know me as well as my worn bed sheets, which gently caresses every part of my exhausted being each night, inch by inch.
I can’t help but smile as I write this, no one was as determined as you.
I was pretty **** determined as well, if I do say so myself.
I longed to know everything about your insanity.
You must have been pretty insane, smoking on the back porch with your friends and still making sure you didn't forget to ask me how my day was.
Again, it makes me smile realizing someone was so hell-bent on knowing me.
Tell me what you remember.
Every detail.
I want as many memories to flood back into my brain so that maybe in some way, I can feel it again.
I was used. Your back-up plan.
You were lost, and you wanted to feel loved temporarily until a better offer came along.
I was lost, and I wanted to feel loved permanently, so I fell for it.
The closest thing to what I had been searching for for so long slipped away like sand through the cracks between my fingers, not leaving a trace behind.
In a way, I should be thanking you.
You've gotten more poems out of me than anything else in the longest time
and now you’re good-for-nothing except curing writer’s block.

I've seen introverts become the center of attention
I've seen extroverts go ignored
I've heard complacent well-adjusted human beings
Cry out for something more
And there's a million and one things to do with life
So don't you dare be bored

Because there are three types of people in this world:
Those who do
Those who don't
And those who didn't, but wish they had

At times it's wrong to do what's good
Sometimes you've got to be bad
So don't you go on second guessing
Lest you end up with regret
Follow your instincts
Don't look back

'Cause there are three kinds of people on this earth:
Those in the future
Those in the past
And those in the present, so make it last

At times it happens all so fast
You forget to examine the extent of the impact
But don't you worry about forgotten things
They'll find their way back to you in your dreams

And there are those who will tell you that it's false
They'll comfort you with broken arms
To drag you down to into the swamp
Trying to stop you before you even start

Now there are three sects of people on this planet:
The leeches
The dreamers
And then the true believers

Examine your head to find the truth
Don't worry about what you can or cannot prove
Nothing matters nearly as much
As the way it all matters to you

You see, there's no right or wrong way to live a life
It all depends on how it makes you feel
The miraculous fact that you exist at all
Gives you the right to determine what is real

And there are but three animals in this pen:
The sheep
The wolf
And the Golden hen