Searching for a lot of things...

Searching for a purpose; so I maybe
know where to go,
Searching for a best high; when
life is keeping me low,
Searching for the lows; when my highs
get out of control.

Searching for a lot of things...

Searching for a reason; to justify the answer,
Searching for my joy; to cure all my
depression's cancer,
Searching for my feet; to pretend that I'm
a perfect dancer.

Searching for a lot of things...

Searching for trouble; as innocent
as I am,
Searching for ***;  just to pretend I'm a
man.

But the search hurts, like words in
a script of a painful verse.

Life has rehearsed.

With the cameras always rolling,
the pains are always emerging,
Everything is so controlling,
and I might not know where I'm going.

All I know-
I'm always searching.

I lost my love, It’s just that simple.
I don’t know what else to say.

I miss his smile, his eyes, his hands.
He has a high libido and certain demands.

I went to my priest, he seemed kind of grim,
“God has a lot on his plate now - stop bothering him.”

I called the police, they sounded bored but wanted a description.
I said “He’s real good lookin’, and he tastes like chicken.”

I lost my love, but no one understands.
I have a high libido and certain demands.

(a firefly poem)

Love isn’t easy to find, it’s ​well-camouflaged.

You begin your journey lonely beyond imagination - an emotional place I can barely begin to describe to the uninitiated.

Your body, primed by puberty, has these new, natural abilities - you develop these secret ambitions for yourself that push you hard.

You search for that someone. To use the technical term you “kiss a few frogs” to fine tune the impossibly fragile internal instruments that detect the elusive, magical “it.”

You pretend you’ve simply struck up friendships, the girl and the boy. It can’t last, this state of congenial denial - there are too many unspoken pressures - the suspense weighs on you both

So live life without
a need for Google friends;
Searching for-
your identity inside of them.