it is all fun and games to be different
to live in the opposite direction

it is all fun and games to be cool
to never be under someone’s protection

but angst hurts when the bullets fall from the sky
and if you wonder how mainstream is so crowded,

now you know why

finding out it’s too late
breaking your favorite plate
screaming at fate
knowing that you don’t have to wait
a path in life that isn't straight
letting go of the weight
just to remember the first date
these are the things i hate

sometimes i just don’t think
my eyes go glassy in the time of a blink
and i just write instead of seeing a shrink
i type instead of getting another drink

all poetry is kind of stupid if you think about it
but right now, i am beyond out of it
but who gets to decide what rhymes with what?
who decides what words make the cut?

frankly i’m writing this at zero sleep
and i will probably delete this later
and if i even hear a single thought or a bleep
i will deem the entire world a traitor

i wish you were here
but do i want your sadness?
i will never know

little lottie could never speak her mind
it was always encrypted
it was always in code
and the cypher? i could never find

me and little lottie once played in the street
and all at once
my world turned around
and the world was filled with no sound

but my ears were filled with little lottie’s voice
and unfortunately it was uncrypted

i had no choice

i see people use words like their weaving
and it makes me think about leaving

because i know nothing about the tide at night
or a star light and star bright

i have never been able to crate beautiful
all i have figured out is truthful

and maybe that’s enough before i figure the rest
words don’t always have to be beautiful i guess

i can’t ever think
i wish my mind were better
i wish not to wish

the words are truly beautiful at first,
and you hang on to them like they are trees,
but reading these letters is like a curse
because they just float away in the breeze.
and once you get ****** in, you cant get out.
the pretty words keep coming all the time
it is suffocating and you can’t shout
because how can you die from simple rhymes?
it is not the art, it is the writer
they know that the words put you in a trance,
because we are all relentless fighters
we are simply better than song and dance.
but there is one thing and you must know it
do not ever fall in love with a poet.

how do i not fall
into the arms of others?
i find another

guitars in my head
strum the visions of your face
things i can’t erase

i quit my whistling
it is not what i imagined it to be
it is not a pleasant thing
i wish it was able to reflect me

but my whistling remind me of the trains
the choo choo
the things that lost me so long ago
i used to walk to and fro

but now i stand on solid ground
and that is why i hate my whistling
because even if it is broken

it still makes a sound

everyone adores the fallen woman
perched upon her tree
she would not stop for any man
because no man would let her be

necklace of rope adorns her neck
her hair flowing in the gentle breeze
i wonder if anyone was able to check
if she still had my keys

she locked away my heart long ago
i was fine with it until now
but my fallen woman always echos
and i simply don’t know how

in my mind i am still in your arms
sunlight long gone
and the full moon beaming in the night sky
i am laying in your sheets
talking until i go to sleep
with you right by my side
your sleeves are soiled with my tears
and you tell me to have no fear
because you will always be here

it is a new moon now
i figure that you are aware
but in my mind, you will always be there

sitting around
doing you know what
thinking about you know who
and i wish this wasn’t real

i wish this wasn't true
but yet i’m right here
trying to see the stars
but i need to get far
far away from here

my spot will be empty
keep me in your memory

please
let me in
let me in!!
i am not ready to let this end
i am ready to make amends
i want us to be friends

please come back
please come home
because i don’t know where to go

i cannot hold onto your doorframe for much longer
i cannot pound to the rhythm of my own heart
following my own drums

but you are home
but i am not
let me in
let me in!!
my whole being is spread paper thin

my mind is spread through the ashes of us
echoes of someone i used to trust
and you used to trust me too
i need someone else to let me in
so i can become whole again and move on from you

dwindling flames on a newspaper
cutting off the last hairs
this isn’t fair
wheres the rewind?
wheres the continuation?
does everything always have to combust into inflammation?
no
inflammation is your skin
it lives on you
it is from you
it is all you
inflammation could be paper thin
it could be just in the wind
but it isn’t the outside
it is not a border
the blame is on you
you make your bed
it is all in your own head
you create your own reality
that is whats so scary about finality
it is the one thing you cannot control
it is a hole
an amalgamation
it is the one thing that stops the colors in the inflammation
it sparks the flame on the newspaper
the rewind is there
just use your own head
use your own world
but if there is one thing you take away
from this continuation
do not blame the inflammation on the world
it is all you
it is all you

one day i dove into my past
jumped head first into my mind
and what i found was unexpected
you wouldn’t believe what i find

my trophy wife as it seemed
since then, nobody else has cared
she was a vision of my glorious dreams
or my darkest nightmares

she used to drive me to where ever i needed
wherever i was going
on the road i was nicely treated
that was something i was bad at showing

so after the months go by
and our distance turns into years
my wife and kids will hear my endless lies
but you will know my darkest fears

but i never got you that wedding ring
my beautiful summer fling