Words Workshop

Poetry, Prose and Plays

On this page one will find words written by yours truly from the last few years. A compilation of complicated thoughts and slightly depressing dreams with a twist of black power and a couple of rays of sunshine. Enjoy as they are me at my realest. 

Works

Disappear(-ing)

I stand alone outside of your door….shivering. No, not from the cold, but the anticipation has made me numb. Keeping composure…becomes a full effort..and the harder I try, the less it helps. A Tear begins to Roll down my cheek. First it is lonely, but he is soon joined by acquaintences…..Friends and Tears come and go in the blink of an eye. But I am blind…

Unable to see you and me again…I leave wondering how my night shall end…probably lonely as it has always been..winter comes and nighttime begins.

With the cold comes the pain…something you experienced in vain…thanks to me you are no longer sane…a love-crazed patient bound in chains.

How can i be the one to break your bonds…when I am the one who put them on…and now any chance of escape is gone…this heart-chamber will hold you forever long.

Judges are requesting a lifetime…but every sentence begins with a sin and crime…your fate is sealed like the face on a dime…a lackluster lover who lost her shine.

No polish can remove the stains of the past…broken hearts cannot be fixed with a cast…so love i bid farewell to you fast…for this breath shall be my last.

Bedroom Ballet

“May I enter this place you call your home, for your too fine to be in bed alone” cheap lines I spit at you while you sit back and let me take hold of you, grasping your hips as I tug on the strings of your heart, just call me Geppetto; teasing you with the words I speak, my tongue is a whip dishing out licks and lashing away at the fears you may have of you and I, time is at a standstill and the moment of truth is at hand..breathing deeply you ask me what I want…I want you to open up your soul to me; you know, spread eagle to expose your most desired secrets, waiting patiently as I am there to penetrate your deepest layers bringing you to a state of comfort never before experienced; as we lay intertwined like fibers of muscles, I passionately thrust my trust into you time and time again until your walls of dishonesty crumble under my oppressive force; I relax to gaze at this moment of pure ecstasy and resume my operation, delicately placing my hands on your chest in hopes of reaching the source of all this love; our lips are Adam and Eve, residing in paradise; our own Garden of Eden…while tending to your heavenly flowers with my divine tool I begin to understand why we were meant to be; I grasp hold of your hands and they whisper that you don’t want to let go…legs tighten around me like a python constricting her prey; my circulation is cut, I lose balance and fall..deeply into love with you; regaining myself with newfound strength I pour my all into you, can you handle it ? Finally this symphony is coming to a close and before the curtain call I play a final melody to harmonize with the screams of joy radiating from your mouth…pressing my instrument against yours our lips share more than a touch..they share a lifetime

Pursuit of Happiness

My mind  wanders as I lay awake in this dark room, living in the dark for so long I have almost forgotten what the light felt like. Figuratively of course, but in my vampiric state I have realized that happiness is not always about being a certain way or the way society tells you to be happy. Happiness is stemmed from YOU…each person has different viewpoints on happiness. I sit back and ask myself and YOU..who can judge what makes me happy? Only one individual can, and that the man who lives in the mirror. The essence of happiness is stirred from an individuals own goals and beliefs, although many of the average citizens have common ideals. For us rebels to society we seek out happiness that others would define as “unconventional" “wrong" or “unacceptable".  To all those who criticize my views on happiness, to those who would try and stop me from achieving my personal happiness, I say FUCK YOU. No I’m lying, but the reality is that each person wants something out of life, something that is different from the person right next to them. Some people search the world for love, while others are very much content with living alone. People may find happiness in photography, whereas others get their kicks from sex. The point is if you are really committed to being a happy person and making someone else happy, the best thing you can do for them is support. Support their cause and their pursuit of happiness.

Dear Cupid

Dear Cupid,

I’m writing you a love letter, not to confuse you with a traditional love letter but a letter about love and how you need to be more careful with it. See i started out with a play on words, but you know how to play with words all to well. I know you aim to please, but please, you aimlessly seem to miss targets more than occasionally,and consequently hit the wrong person. I’ve fallen victim to this myself and fallen for the wrong person, not they were at fault but it was your faulty shooting that led me to this conclusion. Not to accuse you or anything but you see I had my sights on one but you pinned me to another and now were stuck with each other against our own will until we rid ourselves of your passionate arrow. The weapon of choice for the Grim Reaper of love, yes I’m addressing you now Cupid, but I’m distressed the way you break these girls hearts through me, using me to do as you please. Playing with a thing called love, your a raven, not a dove; black wings should adorn your back, you devilish fiend. The way you use love is unreal, maybe that’s why I don’t think it’s real. But forreal though cupid you are truly stupid, for fooling with hearts, as they are the source of life so my question to you is…who said you could shoot to kill?

Hot Topic

The fires of passion burn in my soul as it boils my blood. This incinerating heat is my love for writing. The blaze starts within my core, my heart. It travels through each and every vessel spreading like a fire in gasoline. When it reaches my mind it melts away all fears I may have had of failure and welds together the intricate thoughts that are stored within the deepest parts of my mental container. In time this inferno can be seen by others in my eyes as they shine brightly with the flames of resolve and ambition. My hands become heaters and my pen a torch, as it burns my dreams, hopes, and ideas onto this flammable surface called paper. When this bodily furnace reaches its boiling point, an explosion of abstract reasoning is released as a side effect. It is not the end though for in my ashes lie the power to restore my passionate fire. Like the phoenix who rises from the its ashes so to will I, every time my hand and pen touches paper.

This is a metaphor for the relationship between me and writing. It is hot and passionate but just like a flame it must be handled with caution. And yes it will sometimes cool off but with the proper procedures can be re-lit into something amazing.

Happy Birthday Johnny…

This is my person recount of a moment in my life where it almost ended. Names have been left blank. The images from that night still burn in my head even after almost a year.

Happy Birthday ! Joyeous words spoken by my loving mother and sister as they watched me blow out the candles. Make a wish…my sister ordered me. After putting out the last candle I begin texting my friends asking their plans for the night. Let’s go to Hooters , exclaims (_____) in her usual cheery tone ! Sure let’s do it I chimed back. I proceeded to get ready for my 18th birthday…a night I would never be ready for. As I waited for the girls to arrive at my house I wondered how it felt to be a man. Before I could really begin to dive in my thoughts I heard the doorbell ring and the two female members of “The Crew" appeared out of the dark ! We got something for you Lee, (_____) unveiled a collage of pictures to be her present to me and (_____) simultaneously brings a cake out ! Happy Birthday Lee ! Feeling hurried I thanked them and informed them of the time.

"if time flies by when your having fun, what does it do when your not?"

In the driveway we decided who would be driving us out to dinner, () volunteered since it was my birthday. As we got in the car I heard () warn me to buckle up since (______) drives wild, it’s funny how God gives us hint. As she backed out of 3228 Corsham Drive at 8:47 PM on March 10,2010 none of us knew what was coming next. Hahahaha (_____) your going the wrong way we all laughed, slow down I commented. Why is there all this fog on my windows? Hahaha sex windows (____)? Ohh I’ll fix it just drive. So how has your birthday been so far Lee? It’s been really chill you know.

"Accidents really do happen like everybody describes them, your life flashes before your very eyes"

We arrive at a stop sign and a three-way intersection…no (____) go left…as she turned there they were…peering out of the fog and rain…the devils eyes glowing yellow and growing in size… …as they came closer everything seemed to slow down around us…the rain stopped; the radio went silent; breathing ceased to happen.."i wished this moment away; I didn’t want to believe what was going to happen next…..

BAM ! Poof went the airbags. Screech and screams filled the night as we collided head on with a green Chrystler van. We spun around and ended up in a ditch 15 or so feet away. The deed was done, the car was crushed from the hood to the window. As soon as we came to a halt I ordered () to turn the car off because I could smell smoke ! I opened the door and climbed out of the wreck , and when I stood up I immediately knew something was wrong…my chest was burning and for some reason I could not move my right thumb at all; I assumed the worst. I peered into the car to see how “The Crew" was doing. (____) was crying and panicking but not from injuries; (_____) on the other hand was quiet and dazed. In an instant I flagged down a bystander to help us and call 9-1-1, I noticed the smell of alcohol on the mans breath but didn’t have time to question him. We dashed to the van to see how the other victims were. Both were concious and cogniscient thankfully. (_____) brought me a flashlight and in my frustrated state I could not operate it. I sent her and the light away but then “Lee…Help me" in a faint voice; it was (_). Hearing those words chilled my blood to below zero, I ran to her side and asked her what was wrong, she kept saying her shoulder hurt so I figured her collarbone was damaged. And just like that she fell out into my arms…limp. I slowly laid her down and took of my shirt to cover her from the rain. I began my first aid on her quickly noticing a proutrusion in her right shoulder, my earlier assumption was correct. More people began showing up to lend a hand, and after a couple minutes the fire department was here.

"They say the sound sense is the last one to respond but the most memorable one".

Sirens, sirens and more sirens blared throughout the night. I began to wander around the crash site, it looked as if two kids crashed Lego cars against each other, pieces of (_____) car laid on the ground. I looked to the heavens and began to wonder…why me God? Why this night? I felt tears come but I held them back fearing the girls reaction if they were to see me crying. But they wouldn’t have noticed because heavens tears were already falling on us. As things died down I realized I needed to call my parents so I dialed my dads number. No response, I proceeded to call <> , the other member of “The Crew" to inform him of our situation. When our talk was over I tried my dad again,hello? Hey dad…I just got in a car accident…what where at? Are you ohkay? Yes dad, were here on Graham Newton and Penny Road ohkay I’ll be there in a second. I checked up on (_) as the firemen strapped her down in a stretcher, within minutes my dad had arrived. I heard him shouting my name and responded back; I could tell by the look on his face he was shocked to see me in such a calm mood.

"Fathers are mirror images of their sons"

I explained to him what had happened and he noticed me covering my thumb. I told the nearest fireman that i think I broke it; he told me to ride in the ambulance that was planning to transport rene to wake med; our driver told us raleigh…and explained that due to the severity of the crash we were designated to go to Wake Med Raleigh…in the ambulance I began to struggle breathing and lose focus. I informed people thru my phone and held () hand at the same time. The Next hours are a blur when we arrived at the hospital; while laying on a bed a nurse put EKG stickers on my to check my heart rhythm, she noticed something off amd notified the doctor in charge. They took me back to a triage where I saw my girlfriend at the time,(____), her family and my own. Seeing my sister in tears had to be one of the hardest things to watch, I fought the tears once again. X-rays came next….then waiting and more waiting…a urine sample…waiting. But no something showed up in my urine…blood; a very tiny amount but blood nonetheless. So while (_) got to leave I was forced to stay and get a CAT scan. The doctors put some contrast in my IV to help woth the scan; the contrast felt like hot soup being circulated around my body…it burned and made me sick to the stomach. Luckily nothing appeared on the scan so I was discharged at 4:42 AM. We arrived back at the house at 5:10. For my birthday I got to stay out late, be a hero, ride in an ambulance, but most importantly I didn’t lose two important lives ! But I also got one of the most horrifying memories I will live with for the rest of my life; the images are branded in my head….

It’s funny hearing strangers say happy birthday to you…it’s as if they will never know you; but will never forget you

Happy 18th Birthday Johnny Lee Chapman, III

The Resolution

All I ask is that you order my steps, this world is filled with death traps for my young soul; laying in wait to pounce in the dark like a silent predator so that is why I pray, because I can’t do this alone, no matter how much I try; still I cry for tears to fall like rain as they precipitate my thoughts through this cycle of life and death, these demons grab hold of my joy in order to gain my alliance; an axis of power; my world is in a war and my arms race for support has caused me to to go cold; I see no end to this blizzard and as my body whites out, I reach for the white out, hoping to correct my errors in pen, but that won’t erase the mistakes, now miss please just take me in, I promise I’ll be good from now on, but as time goes on these demons still reside, clawing at my insides everytime I breathe, my black lungs have been corrupted by the weeds of failure, and hoes that strike too deep in my Eden, there is a snake in every garden, mine just happens to be a python, constricting my hands like chains, I am a prisoner to these infernal phantoms called thoughts, they swim in my mental marsh and try to swallow me quick with my sands of time that have run their course and the hourglass spills over like the blood from my cardiac torture chamber and as screams cloud the sky, rivers of crimson regrets flow and my demons feast on my the O negative, but Im positive that if nothing is done; they will test my will, and I have no AID, no cure for this infection that strikes the heart like cupids arrow, but even his aim isn’t perfect so how am I supposed to quell this love for darkness; she cares for me when the light is gone, so my twilight thoughts begin to suck away at my vital spots, poisoning me like the venom of a viper, I think I hear the pied piper but he calls for more snakes, more mistakes are ready to be made like I didn’t study; my words just fall from my wound like blood and I share my flesh to show you the scars that cannot be healed; as the paper cuts my fingers my pain still lingers and I look for the pills, but too much can kill so I pass them by, because its not time for me to say goodbye.

The Chains of Unchanged

Dedicated to the future of African Americans, and M.K. Asante; an inspirational “brother"

Our life is a living story, transforming the future’s history by rewriting the past, and as I look past all our passes and fails, suddenly I’m struck with a flail in the shape of mistakes, they mis-take my intake of thoughts and how I partake in murder, slaying stereotypes sent through the stereos and sound pipes, all I hear is the piping of rappers who consider themselves trappers but don’t realize they are trapped, fallen prey to their own play and as they grasp hands to pray their life is sentenced with no delay, and no eraser can correct the sins, that’s why black fills pens and ink covers my skin, no tattoos but the graffiti of the ghetto is branded on my complexion, this insurrection, of racism has no complications…it’s simple to see, but we as a people fail to be-lieve that we are chained to the unchanged, slaves to the political system known as the Discrimination party, but it’s partly our own doing because while we were fooling, whites were doodling up sketches to cover our lines of success and now they conquest, and we pass their test to prove were just like the rest, but not me, I live for unrest and I won’t rest until our glory is restored and we all have something great in store, so let us not detour off the path to greatness and arrive with no lateness because this moment will fly by; so don’t get high; but higher intelligence, doesn’t this all make sense, just use your sense to see that the whites make cents off our accidents and then call it “insurance”; so live with assurance and take the chance to step out the norm, and let’s create a form of black that is truly beautiful, our destinies our paid in full it’s only up to us to pull them down from the stars.

Miss with the Vintage Shoes…

So I see you standing there…alone…but not lonely. A smile is drawn upon your face and I wonder who owns the pencil, your a moment captured by the perfect picture, so one thousand words are scribbled on my heart. As I watch you I realize that this isn’t just a normal thing. The style of this miss is something that cant be missed, and by pure bliss I was lucky enough to get blown a kiss.

So Miss with the Vintage Shoes, I never want to be your “old news", just let this boy express his truths, and it will be left up to you.

You say I’m rushing, I say I’m just crushing. You say I deserve someone better, I say but you know we belong together. You say your not ready, I say why not let me…show you; theres only one way to find out, so just erase all of the doubt. Sure I may be the last you expected, but I’m here so accept it. Steer you wrong…i wouldn’t dare try, you look puzzled and ask why, when all i have done is cry over some foolish guy who said it was okay but it turns out that was just a lie? I understand your hesitance, but this underlying resistance will be worn down by my persistence and just when you thought you were done with it, I’ll bring it back and we can take a hit, get high and live a bit, our days are free now that’s time well spent; So this is addressed to you, the lady who has the vintage shoes, the one with hipster tips and designer lips, alone you are for now, but I will join you somehow, together we may never be, but as long as these words leave me, I shall feel at ease, because I aim to please, you and only you, don’t ask questions, I just do. Accept it or not its not my call, I’ll be waiting for you in the fall, before you know spring, and we shall become more than a summer fling.

So miss with the Vintage shoes, can I be the one you choose, I promise this is one moment you don’t want to lose, because before you know it we’ll be lovers old and new.

….And yes this is about you miss!

Sick

I am sick, poisoned by the noxious fumes that flow from my vessels and veins, I have been infected for quite some time now and the symptoms are taking full effect now. I will no longer be able to return to the life I once knew due to my condition. What is my condition you may wonder, well it’s the worst kind. my body has turned against itself and now a war wages within my mind. The virus has turned my troops against me and the chances of my survival are looking slim to none. The disease is coursing through my veins with each pump of my heart, and it burns. My head, my mouth and hands and my heart seem to suffer the most. I have never encountered a parasite of this magnitude, that has no cure or origin, it just appeared. My only treatment is to give into the virus and let it take over, if I try to fight then I will ultimately lose….in sickness there is death, and death is sister to sleep, so my sickness happens in my sleep. Its an idea

Money is…

Money is physical corruption, the seeds to a tree of destructions; an addiction that drives men wild, spoils the child and has the woman defiled; instigating a life of crime just to obtain a dime, I’ve never seen a more serious plague, swallowing our lives like a macrophage, engulfed by the paper chase, we forget our starting place; coming in this world with nothing, why all of a sudden to we want something, that has no substance no meaning, it’s really an obstacle that no ones seeing, blinded by the lackluster shine, but not all glitter is gold or something like that, but nickel and copper don’t compare to Au, so I must warn you not to fall victim to this curse, or lest you end up in a…well I’d rather not say it, but just know that evil lurks, in the swampy green…

Free Verse

We are close…but not together…standing as statues on the church oh, wedding bells toll in the background but they are overrun by bass-lines produced from our beating hearts, the bleeding starts and I fall to death…eternal melodies fall on deaf ears as leaves fall from the autumn trees as our love tumbles to fall and comes to a close, slamming shut any door of opportunity that was previously opened….No knocks…but all hear is tick tocks as our time wears this layer of black skin, oh which was not meant to be held again molting my feelings for you and you wonder why they call us snakes…

Close as we are never to touch like the hands of God and Adam, the space seems like small but in reality it stretches farther than the stomach of a mother ready to give birth again and as we give into this feeling I give my all hoping to go in you, not to be confused with sexual talk but once inside you I can feel all of you living like a parasite your heart had become my paradise but my garden is covered with ice…the black hole between us disconnects all transmission and as I transition from our division I can finally grow as a single cell…but alas this space will never be filled the canyons of doubt that run across your spine to your brain convince me that we need not try again lest we increase this space from the inside out.

We cannot live our life in reverse for the moments we miss will surely cause us to crash, so my love as we stand ever so still these feelings will heal but space is all I ask for…staring into the sky I ask God why oh why has my heart decided to die before I even had to try all because of the tears you cry cause from the nights we spent alive. Death as my witness I say goodbye with one kiss a moment of bliss but my lips speak no more and my legs move to the door, my heart is in the living room on the couch, the spot where I died in your arms from the arrow of my angelic stalker. But now I am alive again, resurrected by the light of my future beaming down on my face. But alas when staring in the light you can’t see where your going, so I wait for the day where I will fall into the well of love again.

~the morning light

Skipping seashells on shorelines watching waves crash like wishes of mine; the moment of peace is at hand, brought about by the love of land, the sun rises and the ocean dyes us hues of heavenly colors resulting in a rainbow of emotions evoked by Earth herself. Watch for the waves that wait to grow close for they shall set you back farther than you began. The blending of beauty and awe inspires me to write this melody harmonizing the two elements like strings and sings. I cherish this moment for the chance is given to few like the odds are against me in a game of lottery. Whether my soul will expel the dark depends on the light that will spark, from this igniting moment. Still lonely like the sun, now there’s no time for…but the girl has just begun, her scuba search for buried treasures that have her going to extreme measures, miles deep into my chest, X is marked under the left breast. But sun and sand are the two pieces of summer peace that run hand in hand so let the day officially began.

Wonderful Woes

Just venting…. Oh what a tangled web we weaves, when we first practice to deceive…I lie to myself about myself and then myself no longer wants to know myself. And now I have lost my self to myself.

Silence accompanies darkness I guess that’s why the blind and deaf are the best, of friends with Mr. Death, who has nobody left, and that’s why my body is his test. The EKG beeps as my heart struggles to beat, reading between the green lines shows that defeat, is imminent for me but somebody lied about life being free,  \I’m paying the toll at night in my bed, mental transactions haunting my head, causing aches and makes my spirit break, and this happens all before day break. My mind is a car with no brakes or wheels, just a tool to seal the deal, that may seem so unreal, that comes into effect once I no longer feel. This debt I have is with the dark, gold is no payment only heart, traded my blood for iron like Mr. Stark, so my pleasure is work like Nina Sparx, but when this pleasure brings pain I soon see that I’m in chains, that cover my head like bangs, and pierce my skin like the adder’s fangs. So  prisoner to the sweat and payrolls, like a brother of mine working in coal mines just trying to make 5 dimes to pay for his crimes that have been unidentified see these people are full of lies, don’t think of this as a surprise, the truth you can see in my eyes. Quarantined by my sick thoughts, I try to spread them to the lot, because carrying them alone is alot, and that’s why I’m constantly fought. They say a mind is a terrible thing to waste, but what if it’s already wasted, racing thoughts are paceless and . I am my own worst foe, because when I’m at my low, I disappear like a Poe, and I’m ushering in death like E. A. Poe. A murder appears underneath my crown, mental marshes is where I constantly drown, lost in the woods never to be found, quicksand and the devil’s hand pulls me underground. I face my fears as I look at my reflection, and even though he’s my replication, there seems to be no form of connection, a shadow with no projection. I see her trapped behind my mirror but in the dark is the only time I hear her, transmitting feelings through the cardiac receiver, I tell myself that I’ll never leave her. The angels may try to take me, or you and if they do itll break we, two for awhile but you’re something special I’ll make you see, so anywhere you go I’ll follow you like Lykke Li. If you ever get to explore my mind heed this warning, don’t come looking for wonderful things, even though the feeling may be warming, my head is constantly filled with warring. Heaven is only one bullet away, so sometimes I put myself in danger and pray, but half of me chickens and runs the other way, and this is why my mind is split like night and day.

She Fears Tears

She cries…the tears are always followed by the blood that cleanses her soul, or so she thinks. The clotting curtains begin to fall down her stage while her scene is still being constructed. She begs and pleads and even falls to her knees to prevent her from losing the lead role. The demons are applauding her performance and ask her about the torments of living a life full of scripts and pages, and tell her she could be free if she leaves the stage. Her tears cannot quench her thirst for release.

She screams…the shrieks take her blood pressure higher like the drugs that lie on the table. She picks up the blunt and puff puff to pass her life away. The heat of the lighter is the closest she’ll get to feeling the warmth of love. Soon the high has to be handled with care for her head is full of hot thoughts that melt her minds defenses. Soon the demons creep in and whisper to her that they can give her the ultimate high. As she shakes the hands to seal the deal her head is devoured by darkness, swallowing all thoughts that once swirled in her mind.

She feels…nothing because her veins are overflowing with frigid water. Her body has become the arctic circle and her blood is now clotted with icebergs. She is so used to the feeling of freezing that even raw flames couldn’t scorch her skin. Chills run and down her spine and she speaks to the demons that have come to console her heart. They promise her an eternal place full of heat and warmth. She pleads to be taken there but soon her chills cease to exist. The frozen heart now is in the hands of the con man.

The knife kisses her vein softly like a familiar lover and begins to play his melody on the strings of her skin. The pain is a given but the pleasure is earned, this is the moment that she has yearned, her body begins to feel the burn as the crimson flame spreads across her arm. Even the streams of tears cannot douse this wildfire.

She has lost her will and in the chaos we call life she has fallen victim to the easy road out. The only one to blame is herself for she chose to play with flames and we all know what they say about that. I just hope she’ll be able to come back because the priceless moments we share are few and far between. My words are the stitches that are used to mend her ruptured spirit, she has been permanently scarred by the blade of depression as it has made it’s first and last impression upon her heart. The wound may be too deep for anyone to help but yet I still continue to not sleep so that I can look out for her for she’s a lost sheep that has found her way into my head. Close as it may seem the end is far away and every night I bow down to pray in order to beg and plead with God for her to stay somehow but funny how our conversations are usually one sided, so I have decided to save her as best as I can, so I want this feeling to stick like a plate with no Pam. Dangerous as I am, she continues to come crashing down like the drops of tears, a concoction of elemental atoms and forgotten feelings that formed from the first man in her paradise, the Adam. And on this eve I still manage to believe in her even when every other man has been a deceiver I vow never to leave her but if she left me then I’ll miss being right and shit I’ll probably no longer write. So when she makes her mistakes I silently erase the strokes caused by heartaches because her bio is not yet finished, she’s just got a case of writer’s block.

Dedicated to my best friend,

Whispers of Woe

The most frightening sound is total silence, the noise that once spoke softly into your ears has been muted by the limitless darkness, who has the tongue of salvation tied in twisted knots so that when words are spoken we choke as if our lungs were having some sort of stroke but that’s a mental issue, here’s the tissue because my brain is leaking information like a faucet so it’s simple how I lost it all down the drain I used to not complain but now my compliments have consequences and the sequences of events my life has taken has left me quite unfortunate, the bauderlaire children couldnt read this script, my own teeth couldn’t feel these lips that are numb from the chilling phrases that begin when I start my phases, no baby but I feel the kicks of reality on my insides I’m screaming out in pain but it’s all in vain because the problem lies within my veins the reins that trace the path to where my mind reigns supreme, like the snapbacks but I just hope I’ll snap back into the flow of it all because I know I’m bound to fall and slip but I pass the table when they leave tips, looks like my life needs a snip snip staring with my hair, I’ll just go bald because my thoughts are bare but I’m here to bear witness to all the lions tigers and of course bears that claw at my skin and gnaw at my bones, when my words are in danger where are my sticks and stones, oh I remember I picked out the sticks so I can get stoned, get growned I mean grown I just want to be left alone right away because my life could end Sunday Monday or hell on a Thursday so words today and witnesses tomorrow, accusations claim my sins to outweigh my wins so the judges decision is a given my life will be forever sentenced, tensed I sense that these sentences will somehow bring and end to this like a period and yeah it’ll be bloody but at least I won’t be missed.

Unpolished Purposes

Just like the title says, this is a pretty unpolished piece of work but I’m sure you as a reader can interpret it in your own way and thats exactly what I was going for. 

I push the barrel into the back of my skull and cock the mechanism that will help pierce my periplasm and cause a cerebral meltdown in this factory that powers my life because according to society I’ll live and die by the gun. My visions is foggy like the roads of sleepy hollow and it’s ironic that I’m both sleepy and hollow so im the headless hero that haunts the streets and calls the corner home. The night comes faster than expected like a premature baby so I take special care in how I will handle it this life ive been blessed with is the greatest responsibility and curse, see my eyes don’t allow me to everything that lies in wait so I long for the days where it came late, I guess you’re caught within this great debate between an insomniac and my inner maniac, the two fight for control of this cockpit which would make me flight 93, but my plane took off in 92 and ever since then I grew, well not physically, I still stand at 5’7 but my mind has reached 7 11 or the so called convenient heaven where I can buy spirits for spare cents but I’m still stuck in this hell, a so called shell that singes my skin to create this sacred color, well at least to some, it is a symbol of what we have overcome but we still have a ways to go. I promised myself I wouldn’t turn this into a negative flow but for some reason my mind is positive so when the opposites attract I’m stuck with the world at my back like atlas so I wonder if I will be able to outlast the lashes that seem to come out after me, after three a.m. That’s when my day begins, no sunlight but i live off the dark night, wait I referenced that before..my mind is running wild like a whore off the leash it’s finally out of reach. Sanity has reached critical mass, the hulking failures are mutating my scientific mind into a mass of fear, and yes I am in fear at the shear power that will overcome once that grip isn’t here. If I go insane I’ll be the one to blame, and for those who still remain, by this fools side I pray for you because it will consume all before the blue sky can rise again. I’m having a one night stand with death herself, she’s caressing me like I’ve never felt before, all I’m trying to do is score tonight but she’s wanting for me for life, but the feeling of laying with her, well now I’m not so sure…I know she’s only after one thing, so why am I trying to find the ring that will tie us together through health and sickness shit I didn’t want all this but it’s too late though, my dear is carrying my doe as we wander lost in this forest of woe, no light to show the way but the hunters guns are right at my back well that’s a normal feeling for someone whose black…shells fly by my face like parakoopas and my last hope is overrun by storm troopers these “white knights" that flash their red lights sound a lot alike some boys in blue that shoot first and ask no questions. These men are legally allowed to hunt an endangered species, theyre feces to my kind, so instead of working that 9 to 5 we work that 9 and throw up the 5 or 6 but nothing above 10 because we don’t think on that average scale but we do use those scales to weigh in all the odds against us, the lives we live are toxic like tetanus, so I’ll stick to this gun metal till it rusts. I’m better off shooting the man in the mirror to avoid being slaved and killed by some new furher. So I place the barrel in my mouth, the tunnel of a bullet train with a final destinationmake, sure it has a full clip, take my final sip of the water of life and….click….

 People Profiling

There she goes…that girl who walks with her head held high and her friends by her side, the one that laughs the hardest to cover up the softness that resides in her, she speaks so deep because she fears people will dive in and realize how shallow she is, that girl who wears the designer shades like the Armani and Ralph Lauren, these men have become her superheroes, saving her from embarrassment due to the fact that her eyes expose her fears, yes this is the girl all the boys dream about, while she is stuck in an insecure nightmare fighting off the fears associated with commitment. A girl who’s mother never wanted her so she feels the need to feel needed by the needy in order to compensate for the the lack of love she missed out on during her misfit days. The princess of a castle made of sticks and stones, however words tear down her walls. But nobody will know the ghosts that haunt this girl…across the way walks a black guy. The color of coffee with creme and tightly packed curls on his head, this boy has all but one dream and it’s to be loved beyond the his color scheme. He hates the color of his skin because it gives the bullies a reason to pick on him. Worst of all they’re not even white; another case of black on black crime leads this young mans mind to thinking that gripping a silver 9 will help solve his problem with beasts. A young man who’s full of doubt because his dad is at his house and still with his mom but his friends think hes trying to play the uncle tom by fitting in with these white women. He can’t help it of they laugh at his charms but the black girls stand back with their arms crossed pissed off because their too stubborn to admit their loss of another good brother. The awkward black guy who loves free expression but feels enslaved by the pressures that are put on him by society, see poetry isn’t hood enough for his friends and costs him a black eye along with public embarrassment. The black guy who has all his family at his home but they’ll never be able to see the darkness inside his heart without first looking past the darkness on the outside….behind this black guy is the Asian who finds friendship in the flick of a lighter. His real name is Ji Yang Song; but his American name is John. They call him Rambo also, but this hero’s arsenal consists of weed, cough syrup and liquor which are the tools of this modern warfare this Asian boy spends more time rolling papers than writing them so his family lives in shock as they watch their own blood slowly become immobilized. A short fellow who has always been at the end of any Asian insults, " what does dog taste like", and " can you even see the sunlight." through his experiments with drugs he has found the perfect concoction that will help with the physical pain, the homade morphine glows purple and suddenly his fears have noting left to do with him. the Chinese in him stands proud like the samurai of old but bravery stopped flowing in his veins. All A’s are what all Asians are supposed to achieve but for our friend failure is following him like his own shadow. The chinky eyes he naturally has are lowered due to a bowl full of hash.
Taking a few more steps you notice the shy girl who sits in the back of your class, row Q seat 12 everyday. She only speaks when called on but her phone never seems to ring, here the thing this girl has her life planned out but the sad thing is she can only watch her health run out. Yes the girl is sick, but not with a normal sickness that goes away in three days. She has contracted a deadly disease that has her heart no longer at ease. Never will she be able to feel the hands of a lover, become a mother or even live longer than her mother. Her eyes focus on the light because she thinks it will dry out her cries that return every night like a stray dog. Nobody will understand her pain, and the worst part is we don’t know her name. This girl chooses not to waste her words on worrisome things such as who’s whipped and what happened on tv last night. Instead she uses her breath to express her concerns with God who listens silently and rarely nods when acknowledged. She prepares for her classes like no other knowing that her final could kbe around the corner. Leaving class walking back to your dorm you dap up the guy who doesn’t believe in God. We all assume that he does because he’s naturally a good guy but I guess it never comes up in conversation, none of his friends have succeeded in the penetration of his deepest layers. Only showing what he needs to like a stripper, the guy life’s is in the dark like the big dipper. This boy standing at 5’9 is considered average but deep within him lies an uncontrollable rage, that only spawns when he left alone. In order to fight his inner demons he surrounds himself with angels, that look like normal humans from our angles. His prayers are one sided and very slim: he believes that both of his fathers want nothing to do with him. His mother, Mary resembles the virgin but her womb was full of his fathers sin so he is always reminded of his predecessors past failures when we faces the man in the mirror.
Onto the next class, sitting in the front row so the professor notices me. But I notice him, a man who’s life is mixed with gin and a wife who’s more unfaithful than an atheist. He wakes up at 8 everyday to reach his class at 10 lunch break at 2 leaves campus at 4 and he cracks open his fifth at 5. Bottle after bottle, shot after shot he kills his liver, while his beloved is out getting popped by a man she met at the bar doesn’t even know his name but she’s sweating in his car and she’s screams names that are not her husband’s, a woman who was more concerned about a wedding than the bands. And all the while the professor wallows in sorrow, swallows his liquor. But come the next day he’s up at 8 at class at 10 break at 2 leaves at 4 and drinking by 5. The life of a man who would choose tequila over his wife. He cheats on her with Chardonnay and bloody Mary every night leaving the evidence on his breath and coming back to kiss her with his intoxicated lips like poison ivy in Batman forever. But everyday in class he looks as chipper as ever so his alcoholic endeavors are hidden.
The day is almost done and I go to eat lunch with turmoiled souls in hell’s kitchen. The boys and girls that surround the table sit around like children at a campfire and as stories are told the suspense grows higher until it all comes down and smiles become frowns. From now on I stare on, peering deep into the hearts of others noticing that we’re like adman and eve without furs. Oblivious to the sin and hurt that lies deep in the dirt known as a chest, buried deep within all of us are terrible secrets harsh regrets but the best thing we can do is use our nets to capture the butterfly feelings escaping out of the stomachs of our friends. Dinner is over and I return to my room. And there stands the conflicted child who is cursed with carefree ideals and troubled thoughts. The boy is a complete stranger to me and I look deep into his eyes to find only darkness, a blackout in his system, nobody really gets him. All wish to help but few tried, it’s that same feeling watching someone being buried. Sacrificing his happiness for the mr. and misses that mistake him for a good guy it’s no wonder that he’s caught in a lie. The boy believes that his life is worth ten cents, and would trade that to have his mind back from the demons that have his most precious possession held hostage, feeling like Dante he realizes that the only way to succeed is to brave the inferno but without a Virgil the trip could prove to be infertile bearing no results that were once long expected. I envy and pray for his soul, a tormented tool being toyed with like a buzz light year, infinity is beyond his reach and he falls trying to reach his star but the commanders that control his life convince him that this was necessary to realize the bare necessities that are needed in obtaining happiness. So maybe this new light will reflect on his darkened life and the mirror which I currently stand in front of is sharded. Every angle I look from I see another angel on my shoulder with a devil at my back and when one pane causes too much pain I just travel over the cracks and start over.

Twisted Twilights

Mellow tunes play in the back as I stand in the front with my back to the wall that is blocking my forward progress so I have to backtrack and come back to reality before I try and win you back but now it seems like I’m fronting because all this time you’ve been beside me but that’s besides the point, what I’m trying to put into details is a longstanding story that stretches across semesters of my life as a student but the textbooks never taught me how to create this chemical reaction so there’s a chance that I won’t get the proper reaction so I need to reenact my beginner days and start from level one in this RPG called life, role playing has become a night job as I struggle through the days surviving by my wits and skillset the predetermined powers I was granted that will ultimately allow me to produce these passionate forms of poetry that aimlessly seem to be acquired when my head is held high and my pillow is down low, low enough so when I rest my head gravity loses its hold and I know that I’ve gone too far but close isn’t that much better as they say the mornings always wetter so I want to avoid the dew and try to do what I can to stay dry in this storm f tears that’s brewing above my head in the clouds as they come to cover my sunlight, hopefully this radiance will dawn and I can see the end of this night or else I will become children of the night, doubtlessly sucking the life away from young maidens as I pretend to be Edward Cullen, my Bella has yet to ring and the sun has not shone through the window yet so I assume that the moon will watch over me, judging from this rant I’m more pissed with this situation than we are at Zimmerman, not Hans but I heard he’s pretty cold, someone should get him a lozenge and loosen up the ties that are currently holding us back from being strep free. Now onto step three, yeah I know we skipped one and two but I believe that the third time is the charm and I’m doing my best to save myself from harm but I can’t just bubble myself up and not risk the chances, the die are staring at me with snake eyes hissing ready to be tossed across the garden of chips and cards far enough until they bless my sinful nature or curse my desires, in addition I’m subtracting seconds off of my life by not sleeping but what’s the point if you can’t dream without being hunted by these nightmarish moments, the thoughts are the serial killer so I long for the cereal and milk, you know because that’s breakfast and I need a fast break from reality or my insanity will pull through and drive me to a place of uncertainty and ill be lost with no sense of clarity as the rest of the world becomes clear that I am not.

Le Fantome del Vie 

How many masks do I wear for this one life I live?

The question that finds its way to the back of my head like the cushions of a chair, it doesn’t help that the springs tucked under my body are rusted so now I worry that my life has oxidized, catalyzed into a chain reaction of fears combined with failures, this concoction is currently controlling my central nervous system by systemically sabatoging everything my being has worked for to this day and it’s funny that play rhymes with this because that’s exactly what my life has become a Roman tragedy, Hades seems to have found my Achilles and plans to prevent me escaping this Underworld. Stationary is where I am and what I write on so I guess I’m the pen writing this story, however I find myself wanting to erase several of the strokes that I have left. The page is scarred by my black lines left behind by my bad times as this so called phantom, at least I’m somewhat handsome but that doesn’t matter when my face is covered by porcelain skin, the red streaks across my lips serve as the unspeakable words that spill out like the remains from a bloody tongue, these blue tears stand for the years that my eyes have looked only at the past but I wouldn’t put it past them because the present I have isn’t too thoughtful, I open everyday like its my last and I don’t know if this is lasting or a passing but this feeling has me working full time just to stay sane. Every time I don my darksided mask I feel like Bruce Wayne, fending off all the foes who wish to wreck havoc in my cerebral city, the gadgets and gear get me along with wits and skill but if I begin to sit still then I shut down, my hardware is damaged beyond repair which shortens the life span but I really didn’t expect it to pan out much farther at this rate, sure the memories are great but the universal killer is time and he’s ran out of it for me. My masks align the walls of my room, waiting to be worn by this woeful actor. Each hollow set of eyes constantly staring at me, frowns and smiles adorn the empty facades that are blank like the face that I am bearing. Bare I stand as I expose my innermost secrets to you. But the victory that I seek is lost in the hues that color my life with chaos, troubling as it sounds it breeds order, a new world has dawned upon me as the spotlight comes down over the holes that allow my eyes to visualize the twilight stage set out before me. With no supporting actors, and my director on seated high I create a script that will sound timeless and will touch the hearts of those who attend, but let’s not pretend that they know who I am for my opera is stalled by phantoms and when this mask finally falls to pieces will you be there to pick them up or put them away?

Natural Curiosity

They say curiosity killed the cat well it’s good to know that he has 8 more lives; so in reality thats 7 more tries at this thing called life, 6 more than I have but only half of what I’m willing to give, but is all this necessary to even live. When we risk searching for everything and end with nothing then we’ve definitely learned something but what that is we may never know and thats why this goes to show that the curious mind is all we need to unwind the coils that bind our lives to the boring day to day hum drum, but for those who choose to run from it I advise you this; seek the secrets that are stored securely somewhere in the most special of safes, that is the soul. Even though this task will take it’s toll, the rewards are to be untold. Questions will come from the corners of the world and answers will be found between these words. For I come to you today not as myself but a self, a selfless being that enjoys seeing the pleasures of the world in others eyes see why would I even try when I can influence and although this won’t particularly make much sense it’ll spare me from my own experience as long as I enjoy the pleasure as a vicarious follower. And yes it may seem like a trap but if life is a chess game its better to be to be last so in the time lapse that it takes to shift that piece you think about the move in the least possible way to prevent the other from knowing your plans for that day. Unexpect the expected and expect nothing from no action and if you want a reaction then you must remain collected through the scatterplot. It may seem like this is an elaborate plot to some Shakespearean tragedy but I promise you thats how life should really be, don’t get it confused with reckless behavior or you only live once, because like the cat we always have something up our hat. What that may be depends on what you want to see, I just call it a natural curiosity.

  

Nostalgic Nightlights / Lunar Lovestory

It’s been quite awhile since my hand touched a pen so I do wonder what has changed between now and then, however dwelling on the past has never been my forte and presently I’d say that I’m being blocked from my future by an unknown force that’s caused me to run a course that starts at sunset and the finish line has yet to be set. Still looks like my settings are still being settled but I’ve never been much of a settler, maybe a nomad, as I take notes on this iPad or iPhone, funny how all this technology can’t even point me home but alas that is all fine for me, seeing as I use it mainly to see what lies in the souls of others, but in reality that’s just a cover to mask the true face of myself. In all honesty I thought this piece would be more peaceful but don’t get me twisted even though these thoughts that are listed are mines I just thought about the rhyme when in reality I left out the feelings this time. Once again I have come under the precious care of my nocturnal lover, she continues to hover way above the stars to care for all the future scars that I will eventually self inflict upon others because having a piece of me is quite deadly in these dark times. And of course some day I’ll stand trial for my crimes but guilty is a free gift and innocence is curse, that’s why the good end up in the hearse first. Once again my apologies for making this bleak, truth be told my life is at it’s peak and Even if the darkness tried to sneak in my supernatural sweetheart would put her spectral spotlight and prevent the sears of evil from spreading in my subconscious once again. She guides me when there is no light, comforts my heart in the cold night, kisses me softly as I continue to write, my goddess of the pale moon, come back to your lonely groom.

Waking Up With Words

Ive got a case of dreams that money can buy too bad I slept too long and spent it all to get high to mask the lows and every once in awhile life blows, she gets on her knees and begins to go until I come and that’s when I go, realizing that it’s all just a show, a parody if you will of what will come to pass comedic as it may seem this is all a very real thing, so real we only get one chance and it may seem simple at a glance but trust it’s hard in the pants and as we plant these primordial seeds of happiness we happen to have forgotten how to reap what we sow and lo and behold we eventually fall behind and decline until it’s time to create a new design…too bad the scheme can’t be set up so it’s a downward descent until then but then again every bikini has it’s rock bottom so down in the dark depths lies a truth, truer than anything we have ever trusted in and trust me it’s true that once discovered its hard not to be selfish and cover it from the world. I had to leave this alone and come back, hooked to words like crack so I just stuff em in my pipe and light so watch these lyrics flow and go up to the clouds and these words serve as shrouds for the ghosts of my past the apparitions of my present and the phantoms that will follow me in the future, but let that day come when it finally gets the chance but alas it’s about the end of this performance so let the curtains come down as the sun comes round to shine on my face its the end of this night race and luckily I kept a nice pace so I won’t be tired when I wake up, the alarm rings and the day begins to sing sweet melodies that remind me that today will be full of new memories.

Cream & Sugar

In the corner you sit like a child in timeout, keeping to yourself so your arms on leave your side to take a sip of your hazelnut coffee with 3 cream and 2 sugars. It singes your cheek from the heat and you leave your kiss on the lid as your pale pink lipstick is graffitied on the surface. The street I casually walk down as I place each foot down on the slightly damp sidewalk, I dance to the beat using only my fingertips and allow the music to calm my constantly moving mind. Thirsty for a vanilla frappachiuno with a hint of whip cream. The door is the only thing that stands between us, small as it may seem it resembles the Berlin Wall as it splits two intertwined souls but it shall not on this day for you see it is a completely average day for two average individuals. I walk in unaffected by your presence but the aroma of sweets and lattes does something to my taste buds and calls for me to grab something to answer their calls. My music catches your attention because it blares through the soundproof headphones and the waves come and wash away your sandcastles of serenity. Annoyed you seem with my antics and you step to the counter like a batter to the plate ready to swing all sorts of swear words at me. The cashier serves as a referee for this battle that we are about to partake in. Instead of trying to take my change for the drink he stares at the woman and adversary that has approached me. My server tries to warn me about the approaching danger that is her hand in close proximity of my shoulder. The moment, time stands still and the coffee stops simmering. The sounds of the machines cease to echo as your palm graces my back. The fingers are hot, as they have just been removed off of your personal heater. My shoulder covered by a peacoat protects my semi-frail frame from the frigid air. But here you are invading my space like a game of Atari. It’s easy to see that this will be a tale to tell for ages. The connection, we seem to be two cords plugged into the same outlet as the input that has just transpired has caused an electrical surge to take place, I turn to you removing my headphones in the process taking note not to spill my drink on your Carolina blue cardigan. No words are necessary as our eyes are full of stories yet to be told. In an instant I feel the pressure of passion beating down on my back like a hot summer rain. As my playlist serves as the background music for the beautiful scene that would rival Romeo and Juliet or maybe even Will and Kate. But it appears that good things never last, and this instant can not go on much longer. Your face is slightly decorated with shades of emotions that I wish I could read but the color of love isn’t my forte. Forgetting to take my change I walk away satisfied as you have made the uncommonly average day a tiny bit better thanks to the lovely. The conclusion as this page has reached the end, the moment I share with you may not have a permanent impact on my entirety but your hazelnut flavored lips were enough to keep me happy. And they may have not touched mines but your words kissed my ears and my day was sweetened by a coffee with 3 cream and 2 sugars.

Somber Sentiments

You probably didn’t expect this to happen. I didn’t either, it’s just one of those things that happens. Just like the way the sun rises in the sky and babies cry when they’re hungry. It just happened. It was easy making the first cut, painless as I played the strings on my wrist creating a solemn sonata as the moonlight moved in the back. Why had I not tried this before, the motions just seemed to keep coming and going and coming and going like a paintbrush going haywire on a crimson canvas. Watching all the cells scramble to escape their vascular prison I prepped myself to make my second incision. With careful accuracy I clipped the nerves to further dull my failing feelings of life and liberty, the dopamine did not deny my euphoria either as I continued to eviscerate my eloquently established earthly body. Battle scars would be visible on my corpse unless they covered it with a pair of cuff links and a collared shirt. In farewell I probably forgot to mention what I wanted out of this life but I wish I knew. I wish I could tell the women of the world how beautiful they are, how proud I am of the people who seek out the hidden potential that God places within them, and even to my enemies I see on a daily basis…I forgive you. The way I could not forgive myself. As blood continues to trickle down the framework of my fingers I leave the world with only one statement. Sometimes this just happens…sometimes it doesn’t.

 Humanistic Humiliation

Its too late. Too late for you to open your mouth and let words spill out, time has ran its course and of course we stand back silently scheming ways to stay alive as we succumb to the sins that drive our slowly sinking ship. Shit, this is what life is, a series of ups and downs, hills and valleys on a heart machine as I continue skipping beats. Something is seriously wrong with me but the only person who knows what's right has turned left and walked away. He hid deep inside a pit where no passions can be brought out and where the fires of hell are felt on the heels of the fallen. I have faltered in the face of the world and now I wonder if my hands will ever reach for the sky as I stick to what I know best. Something tells me that I will be swallowed by the phantoms that I fearlessly avoided because fatality is what this mortal combat will result in. Will the sun ever shine on this place of wrath and tears or will my life be the product of my hidden fears. Seekinig the light I still search the corners of this room, realizing that it lies somewhere deep inside, A place that has been long denied simply due to the dark nature of the water that lies around my island of hope. Hopelessly I hobble down the heart chamber and find secrets that have been set away for some years. Denying any proof of desolation I isolate my mortal being from my soul, in some effort to save what is left of my somewhat simple self before the blood sweat and tears begin to drown out the smiles that were one stationed upon my face. Don't for some reason think this is just another piece of work, I give you my all in an effort that you would take a piece with you. slicing each area of me away like a fresh cake I hope the sweet words will cause you to get cavities, tiny spaces between your teeth that will allow my thoughts to manifest. Mustering up the strength to write proves fatal, tearing up tissues and tendons as I reach for the tissue to stop the leaking of ink from my pen-like mouth. Blurting out blotches of black and blue, my paper is adorned with bruises that will show the site of attack, places where I verbally assaulted with my aggressive articulation. 

From Zero to Two

Blank sits this cardiac canvas that belonged to you, I stand with a brush in one hand and head full of memories that were formed through the union of our two souls like a pair of shoes. A masterpiece is what I intended to make, one to rival the heavenly host that are hung up on the Sistine Chapel. I raise my weapon and stab at the superficial layers and watch as the pipelines of blood begin to leak. The first strike I ever commanded was in order to contain the wild beasts that belong to me, who hunger for young fresh souls and dine on the spoils of a successful hunt. Returning my brush back to the bank I withdraw the royal color in order to make a deposit to buy your love. Purple stains the carpet as I recall the first time I spilled out my wine-flavored words on your dress, leaving a stain that will sink deep into your skin. Feelings felt for you were flattering but fearful as I wondered what my life would become. Splashes of blue will decorate both the curves of the canvas and your cheeks, countless tears have fallen from the heavenly eyes that always find a way to float to me. Some good some bad some have been just because you think back to how bright the sun has shone on our private paradise that we have found in the ocean of life. A melody of green and yellows finds their way onto the page to create this vivid meadow, to symbolize the breezy times that we have spent watching horror stories about America or America Fararra looking nerdy while I play PS3. So next you shall see the black lines that have served to define what we have to work on, lacing each detail with a line of white for the lessons we learned to create a grayscale on which we weigh our opinions and mistakes, only to be judged by the golden hands of God. Never being found guilty we protect the innocence that was once established by the immature minds that we wore years ago, but now we have grown and outstretched those primordial genes, however we bring occasionally bring back the past like Jurassic park to sit and wonder at the advancements we have made. My hand has cramped and my head hurts from hiding all these vivid feelings from you and as I take a step back all I see is you, plastered in your glory. My heart serving as an easel for this work of art, or love I should say has ran dry so until my next piece I ask for you to release all the pieces of your heart so I can show you my crafting skills. 

Y For You

I once left you a pen, with some hope that you would begin again, you know writing, letting the ink serve as the fuel for your lighting device as we navigate through the dark depths of your mind. Inception is relative to the sign too bad I’m no Leo, and as the clocks move closer to zero its only time that matters before your thoughts commit crimes that are especially heinous, searching for the SVU while the body get so weak, no SWV. Heartbeats come to a stand still as your hand continues to sit still, I wish that I could ask the real you to please stand up as the others sit in silence. Fraudulence hinders the magnificient memories that were left in the form of memoirs that painted faces white like the geishas of yesteryear. You once told me that you could create stories  with only twenty-six letters stitched together like freshly knit leathers worn by Mr. West, feel that en-compassing feeling as we lecture to the masses like our days are spent in classes were teachers are actually preachers and we are all sinners for speaking our minds. While we listen our ideals stray away out the back door like a thief moving out of the store he has stolen from. Don’t become the man who sells himself for profit, or live to become the Judas among the prophets. Kissing your saving grace goodbye I say that is a fitting story for a fellow who has fallen so far that life alert couldn’t pick him back up. I watched you one day aimlessly wander onto the linoleium tiles looking to pray to the porcelain goddess promising never to succumb to spirits again. Strangers surround you like a sound system blaring and bleeping word at you, they abuse your childish mind so bad that you begin to question if the design of God is actually a dinner date with the devil, spoonfeeding you stories of glory and insanity as you look to me to help catch your breath while drowning in the lake of fire, now that’s what I call a burning desire. As long as I have known you I’ve wanted to be like the Ned-like neighbor, constantly looking over Homer, the practical poet or literary overcomer, this summer formed a world of new becomers behaving as if they had no home training, yourself included. I just ask don’t let my words get diluted as you look for a solution out of this acidic reaction rusting away your once strong frames. Whatever woes you once had will be lost, reach out to the light as you feel the darkness drawing your soul that was once deeply rooted in the soil. You told me the time you used grass to grow to the sky, a falsh high for a once fly guy, we’ve got you looking to give God a hi-five because he prefers the handshake seeing as that was makes a man. I watched you stray away from the once great plan, we would stay up all night searching for stars to wish upon, oh how have we become so undone. Undercooked despite all the heat and pressure used to produce a diamond from our carbon copies. To you whom I love I wish you would wipe away the droplets and make deposits into my cardiac treasure chest, where no pirate played by Johnny can plunder. So you ask mirror mirror on the wall, does anybody love me at all. I want to responod and make the suffering end, so that’s why I left you a pen.