pick your poison, is how the adage goes
no one toxin is identical
they all accomplish the same deed

ground by each decision
you wither away to no more than a fine dust
worn from the stress of painful repercussions
those of work and relaxation
those of love and isolation
those of life and death

i gaze into the wandering eyes of others, and wonder
how hollow are they
do they have substance or
are they solely a shell
held together by the laws of conformity
never daring to commit that felony

i guess that makes me criminal
as I choose to crumble visibly,
at least without a guise
i can be reborn into
myself

I can't see where I'm going,
but like a blind man's hearing is heightened,
I will listen for the Lord's direction.

teen age, young adults
how’d you make choices in life
go straight or u-turn.

When the longings of sleep are impossible to be satiated, trudging through the depths of another beings personal hell.

I hunger incessantly with the sweetest food surrounding me, marbelized and succulent, I cannot eat.

A monstrous dose of poison, council of unbridled emotions, flows from my entrails.

I no longer own my body. A specter has torn it from the sole  anchor mooring me to an existence.

Cast out alone. I am afraid.

I reach out into the void, piercing night’s sacred veil. Clawing through madness with frenzied hands of the Centimane.

To rediscover your porcelain skin, replete with its precious cracks in form. The antidote to save me from myself.

The tissues I have cried into
are my excuses,
to hide the clutter of calls and love I forgot to return.
Sometimes it is too late to clear the mess I made.
It is more difficult to retain my will to clean it all up,
which sort of made me guilty
of creating another sad person.
But what is another tissue in another sea.
Everyone dreams of sailing into a brighter morning
leaving behind their darkness in another’s mind.
What if I am as selfish as them.
What is another ship, another selfish wish
amidst thousand such others-
all stranded on a water-less heart
all looking for a flood, instead of directions.

Your gut is the compass.
Your knowledge is the landscape.
Your mind is the map.

She looks in the mirror and sees a mistake, a broken girl with no direction, a girl who does not deserve love or happiness, no way to cover the ugliness.
She hates her personality, she hates her face, she hates all the things that she cannot change. She wishes that everything she saw in the mirror would simply fade away.

I looked at her with only admiration for the beauty I saw in her soul. She was perfect in my eyes. She was everything I could never be. I loved her with everything that I am, but I was nothing compared to the truth in the mirror.