43 muscles,
Ache through my skin.
From swollen red eyes,
To a quivering chin.

Winds of change,
Rake across my face.
Stealing my breath,
Faster than the void of space.

All that I love,
Drifted to a black hole and ****** away.
One by one I watch vanish,
To a gravity made of that change.

But I drift on the horizon,
Not worthy as an event.
I swim towards the well,
Where everything I wanted had been sent.

Frictionless efforts,
Exhausted all that I am.
So I drift and I wait...
Until my own black hole pulls me in...

Again,
Life leaves me staring.
At my coffee, as I swirl it with a spoon.
Relating to the vortex created.
Drawing sweet ingredients, down to their doom.

A stir meant to bring things together.
Unifying it all to my taste.
Yet now I sit here and I wonder.
Was the effort all just a waste.

Those lines sound fine together.
But I realize, that they are misleading.
I never even really liked coffee.
It just somehow became necessary.

I guess that's how my story goes.
From one unchosen situation to the next.
Until one rings true of purpose.
I'll stir carefully, to avoid another mess.

I miss being who I never was....

So much pain
So much sadness
So much angers
So much madness

Really...  I'm just a nice guy...

I smile, lifting hardship
And meet sorrows with a sigh.

If your down,
Find in me,
Jokes with silly laughter,
With warm hugs to be found.

But lately I do rage,
Shedding goals of going Sage.
Ditching wisdom, ditching life
Burning my story, every page.

I feel anger, crushing bone
Taking joy out to be ******
Stomping the best of memories
Sharpening my teeth, so they're honed.

And I get it, And i know.
That this story isn't whole.
As you read this from afar,
I scream these words, from my soul.

Honest, I'm just a nice guy.

Just to myself I cannot sigh.

No jokes to be made.

As I'm the only listening slave

A slave, with a dimming light

That fills my eyes with hating life.


Just wanted to be a nice guy...

And today...

I'm just wondering why?

Take the mirror,
Press as hard as you can.
Watch the cracks form,
And begin to transcend.

Realize that the fragments,
Are your complexities brought to light.
Now pull back your sore hand,
And give up the fight.

Let the reflections,
Spin as they fall.
To show how they blur,
When you're struggling with them all.

Wrap up your hand.
Staunch the blood flow.
Or let it run freely.
But decide where to go.

You don't need to hold,
A single broken shard.
You can **** yourself simply,
By trying too hard.

But take a moment,
Think on where you belong.
Figure your **** out,
No moment lasts all that long...

It's not the first time,
It all got too much.
Straws, little weights,
Camels spitting, wicked dares not to touch.

Like little log houses,
Not designed for things grand.
Yet built with a whole forest,
A families, last stand.

And much like a dandelion,
Over crowded with seed.
The slights breeze tears apart,
What was held tight by births need.

So does this man,
Yield at far too much.
But somehow grips tightly.
His dreams held in a clutch.

In the end it's left to nature...
All things come with a peak.
No matter how strong,
Havock still finds, its own way wreak.

I guess the reality,
Is nothing's immune to change.
It's the way of death and of newness...
It's equivalent exchange.

But I pity those pieces,
Caught in the middle of this storm.
Even if flames bear fruit,
From the soil, is it torn.

So again I spit,
My walls creak under the weight.
I pray for the fruit,
Which I did help make.

And the earth that endures,
Or was simply consumed whole.
I wish you some time,
And rest for your soul.

Be at peace.
Inhale and be calm.
Weather the treacherous.
Storm they come on.

Carry your grace.
With each blow that they make.
Smile even though.
All your teeth do they break.

Because whether you walk out.
Or crawl through your own blood.
They will regret their loss some day.
And drown... In sorrows flood.