Seagulls fly over me.
Sticky sand rubs against my toes.
Saltwater slides down my throat.
I see ice-cream nearby.
This place is paradise or at least
the closest I've come to it.
I prayed a silent prayer:
"Please God, I never wanna leave
this place."
Unfortunately, I did, but
I always leave a piece
of my heart along the shore.
Hopefully, a mermaid will
find it.

Nothing can compare
to the joy I felt
stepping off that train
and seeing my mother's face again.
I was gone only a week,
but it might as well have been forever.
I traveled six hours on the railroad
back to good old Georgia.
What more could I ask for
than to be home sweet home  
where I
belong.

The way I look at it:
Everybody is good at
something.
Find out
what it
is.
Once you do
you'll blow people away.
Don't do something
your bad at
then get angry
when other people
are better at it
than you.
Stick with your strengths
and watch the accolades
come pouring in.

Inspiration strikes like a match
lighting the fire of creation,
all it takes is one little spark
to create something beautiful,
so keep fanning the flame
because once it goes out
art remains.

Saying, "Life is complicated."
doesn't begin to describe
how painful it is
to be an imperfect person
in an imperfect world.
Oh, how many words could I write
about the suffering of humanity?

Has anyone ever apologized to you
and made it seem like it was your fault?
I hate when that happens.
Just as I feel things are ok,
suddenly it's my fault again.
I'm only human after all
and prone to errors.
Can I be forgiven
please?

There is a playground across the street.
Children play there,
I was once like them.
If only I could go back to those days.
I've spent so much time wishing my life away
that now I desperately cling to it.
To be like a child with innocence and potential.
When nothing matters except having fun,
I miss this dearly.
Does anyone have a time machine I can borrow?

I've had a few successes in my life,
but mostly failures.
There were times I tried my best
and came up short.
Other times I gave up fighting
the good fight.
I wish I could go back and undo everything I've gotten wrong,
but I can't.
So each night as I fall asleep I remind myself of one phrase:
Live and let live.


I can do no more.

Your love is like moonlight
it shines brightest in the dark.
Your love is like fire
it burns hottest in the cold.
Your love is like music
it sounds loudest in silence.
Your love is like the sun
even in the night
I know it's there.

Whenever a writer messes up
they try to make it seem on purpose.
Don't believe them. Writers are human beings
like you and I. We make plenty of mistakes.

I like you,
but I don't want to fall in love.
It's been a long summer.
I need some rest.
You're beautiful around the eyes,
but you deserve something more.
I need to get going
the rest of my life is up ahead.
Don't take this personally
you'll find somebody soon.
I'm just a  wandering vagabond
traveling down the road to nowhere,
we'll always have the summer of '18.
Goodbye.

It's a fact of life
that if miserable people
wouldn't focus
on being miserable
life wouldn't seem so
unbearable.
Take deep breathes,
calm down,
and remember this too shall pass.

Once I felt so sad
that I wanted to take
my own life, and I made
a plan to do it.
I was going to slit my wrists,
lay in the bathtub, and bleed out.
Something deep inside me said,
"No." That night was not my last.
I dialed the hotline and got
locked away for three days.
In those 72 hours, I understood
the most important aspect
of my life is love.
No matter what you never let go
of the people who mean the most to you.
I walked out a free man knowing the love
my mother has for me, and I will never forget that.

You heard me
when everyone else
stopped listening.
You thought of me
when everyone else
forgot about me.
You put up with me
when everyone else
gave up on me.
You cried with me
when I had no one else
in the entire world.
I'll never find another person
like you.
Please know I send my love.
I'll always remember you.
Sincerely,
Aaron.

Is there any drug
in the entire world
more satisfying
than music?

There is a place
on the coast
where I keep
old memories.
It's called
St. Simons' Island.
This place is my home
away from home.
I keep polaroids
in my wallet
of the times
I've spent there:
A cozy book-shop,
The fancy restaurant,
An old ragamuffin,
sea water.
I wonder if I'll read those books,
drink that wine,
hear the homeless man's song,
or stand in the sea looking at the horizon
again?

I pray it would be soon.

I had a crush
on a girl
who had no idea
I liked her.
I kept it secret for as long as I
could.
When she was around
my heart went to flutter.
My eyes stared
at her beautiful face.
I thought if I
could just
hold her hand
then I'd be golden.
If only her lips would
kiss my lips,
then I'd be alright.
I never told her though.
Betty
walked out of my life
without knowing
the love
I felt for her.

Sweet release,
I've hit rock bottom
and have nowhere to go,
but up!
Such freedom comes to
those who aren't afraid
to fail.
Now true success may
find me.

They don't warn you
when you become
a writer
of the crippling
anxiety
that comes with
waiting for success  
to strike.
Sometimes I look back
and wonder how
I've gotten this far.

I once knew a boy
with bright red hair.
He was my best friend.
We spent hours together
talking, laughing, and
walking around town.
Until one day
he confessed
to being in love
with my sister.
We didn't hang out
after that,
I'm sad to say.
Now I wonder
why I grew so cold
to someone, I cared about
very much.

I became a poet
only because
I've given up
being anything else,
I'm fat, broke, and
lonely.
What else can I do, but
jot down a few words
now and again.
Praying to see brighter days
sooner rather than later.

When I was little
I played in the rain.
I've never felt so
free
in my entire life.
The sensation of raindrops
hitting my face,
splashing in and out
of puddles,
and stomping my feet
in the mud.
Life doesn't get better
with age.
The best its ever gotten
was when I was 9,
playing in the rain.
Being a silly kid,
it doesn't get
better than that.

She was a thorn in my side,
but I'm okay with that.
At least she was in my life
for a little while.
Better or worse
she drove me crazy,
and it was one
hell of a ride.

The best thing to do
after a long hard day
is going to sleep.
Just shut your eyes,
count imaginary sheep,
and let the world
pass away.

Do everything you can
to forget the day,
that's what its
all about.
True?

The Crux
of all poetry
is that it be
honest.
Don't waste your time
with fancy words,
long speeches,
or gaudy phrases.
Just be honest
about what
moves you
and the words
will come.

I thought of you
tonight.
You seem
happy.
I wish to be a part of
your life,
but I'm too
far away.
That destroys me
on the inside.
I've dreamt of
seeing you
again,
and every time
I want to
cry.
Can you forgive me
for all the wrong
I've done?
I know deep down
in my heart
if I
saw you
again
everything
would be
alright,
but until then
keep this letter.
And I promise
to never forget
the memory
of
your love.

We begged and pleaded
for somebody to
love us.
But once
we found them,
didn't we still feel
empty?

The writer is a writer
simply because he writes,
the words flow unto the page
from the depths of his subconscious.
He's hypnotized by language
becoming entranced with every line.
What he truly seeks is
at the tip of his grasp
always falling out of reach,
so he beats on
down the road with
no end in sight.
Wishing to be over the hill
instead of under it.

Last night I couldn't sleep,
so I tried to call your phone.
You didn't pick up,
that's when I realized
you've left me behind.
For better or worse
I'm still your friend.
I can't let go.
Hopefully, you won't be gone
forever.

Someday I want to die.
Not as a suicide, but
when I'm old and weak.
Letting the world slip
from my fingertips,
as I breathe a sigh of relief;
finally at peace.
That's what I call
the American dream.
A nice quiet death.

I love cloudy days,

filled with rain.

When all things

wash away.

People don't save me,
I help myself.
Sleeping well at night
is a habit of kicking out people
who hold you down
and keeping the ones
who don't.
That simple.

I hate long summer nights.
As crickets chirp aloud,
my friends are away.
I watch TV
bored out of my mind.
What is there to do?
Except for count
seconds, minutes, and hours
till the black-hole is full.
So my life can begin again.

Have I done well yet?
Has my work reached its peak?
Are my golden years behind me?
What will I do next?
These questions come every day.
The writer knows them well.
What's next?
That I never know.
I bang my fingers on a keyboard
until they create sweet art,
but it's never enough.
You're only as good as your next idea.
Whatever will I do?

Somewhere,
someone knows you.
Somewhere,
someone likes you.
Somewhere,
someone needs you.
Somewhere,
someone loves you.

Remember this whenever
it feels like all your efforts
are for nothing:
No matter what happens
all you can do is
try your best.
That's it.
Just try.
You'll fail sometimes,
succeeded otherwise.
As long as you try your best
you'll have no regrets.

The highest phrase
in the English language:
"It's ok. "

Do you ever question
whether people love you
or not?
I do all the time.
Not trusting others
is my specialty.
I ask myself:
"Would they be better off
without me?
Yes or no?"
I say,
"Maybe?"

Even though
you left
me behind,
I still,
want to
love you.

When I'm tired,
I have few words to speak.
So instead I pick up the pen
and bleed unto the blank page.

Here's to taking
a chance on yourself!
Here's to trusting
your instincts!
Here's to giving
everything you got!
Here's to discovering
your inner strength!
Here's to proving
haters wrong!
Here's to never looking
back!

Why can't I come up with
the words?
Where have they gone?
I need to write them.
If I don't write
the words
then who will?
Is it my fault
I've come up
empty?

I wish her every happiness
in the world.
Even if it's not
with me.
She deserves that
and I do too.
Somewhere in my heart,
I'll wait for her.
It's ok
at least for now.

Dusty tile floors,
blinky fluorescent lights,
the serenity prayer,
stapled to the walls,
this place is not home,
how did I end up here?
All alone in the dead of night,
this is John's place,
I don't know who John is,
but I need his help,
somebody's help,
please, dear God, get me,
out of this place!
As I shiver,
and choke down the tears,
sending up my prayers,
into the air,
life is never fair.

Poetry is for,
the freaks,
who are called ugly,
the wounded,
who hide their scars,
the losers,
who sit alone at recess,
the weak,
who just can't go on,
for broken-hearted people,
all over the world,
poetry is for you.

Children
you are never too big
to be scared of the dark.

Shadows
disappear into the night.
Only the dead can see.

Don't we all stare
into the same night sky?
Hoping to be reunited again
like shooting stars.

From time to time
I reflect on the old wisdom
spoken to me,
"If you're not between
a rock and a
hard place than your
not truly living!"

D.
The things I wish
I could tell you
fill up my brain
with thoughts of regret.
I'm awful sorry for
how things turned out.
I hope you can
forgive me one day.