When I Look Forward

Hey there my friend,

Curled up and scared.

You cant take away from me,

what you've already shared.

When the fire in our hearts, 

consume the world, 

thats when we are truely alive.

When we all die.

Now I have to say,

that the blood is sinking in.

I washed out my clothes,

so no one will know,

what happened to us again.

It got sucked through my lungs,

my feelings got stung,

now I really can see.

My eyes were of no use.

My feet were useless.

My thoughts were wasted.

My sighs mean I miss this.

My fingers were stinging.

As my smile was shrinking.

and all that I can do,

was wish I was with you.

Remember me

Peacefully

I struggle for days,

to live in open flames.

Will you reach for me,

or will I do it for you?

The coals are so warm,

I just want to go home.

In my house of no friends,

I can do this again.

I can see the sunset,

over the mountains and regret.

what can I understand about you, 

if you keep the matches and wont move.

This is a time for no sleep,

over the fire that you keep.

I struggle to find things about you,

when you keep the matches and don't move.

This time the sun wont come till you start.

Why wont you go?

This time the sun wont come till you start.

Why wont you go?

Theres a deamon in my mind,

its fang denies, resides.

It tries to satisfy,

and makes me deny.

Now I'll struggle for days,

to wait in these open flames.

Now you wont reach for me,

burning peacefully.

I know you,

you need me.

Just take this,

become clean.

I have you,

you have me.

We're burning,

so peacefully.

The coals are so warm,

I just want to go home.

In my house of no friends,

I can do this again.

I struggle for days,

to live in open flames.

Will you reach for me,

or will I do it for you?

I can see the sunset,

over the mountains and regret.

what can I understand about you, 

if you keep the matches and wont move.

This is a time for no sleep,

over the fire that you keep.

I struggle to find things about you,

when you keep the matches and don't move.

This time the sun wont come till you start.

Why wont you go?

This time the sun wont come till you start.

Why wont you go?

Remember me

A Poets Depression

When you're little, you grow to love anything you set your sights on and those little pieces of plastic that were manufactured in China become your most prized possessions. You live to protect them because everything is simply a miracle when you are young. You don't understand how these things could be made and you treat them the exact same way that a rich person would keep a hold on their wallets—close to the heart and filling your soul. Then you grow older and because of your new maturity those things that you once loved turns to a mere few.

You become preoccupied with your life and you have no more time for your friends, all you can do is struggle to make a living. This is all inevitable because that’s apart of growing up; leaving your own happiness on the side of the road just so you can work for the rest of your life to achieve what? An old age and a wish for youth again. You could only wish to live another life so live those through joys again and hope for it to never leave your side.

What I want to do is compare that to a young individual when they receive clinical depression because that gap from being able to love everything to very little shortens very dramatically. You find that you didn't have the chance to enjoy the great things in life. The smell of roses no longer becomes appealing and those few things that everyone will soon have to go through will come like a knife in the back. You would find that there would be some things you would like but depression hides it from you. You strive to find the good colours in the world but you are now blind, living in darkness and that is depression. 

Its like you are trying to find what is nearly impossible to see; waving your foot around in the dark while descending down a long staircase, you don't know where the bottom is and when it comes to that you are, you still look for another step to stand on. Striving for hope in a land of chaos, we will wish to change it but we find that failure is what we live and deal with for the rest of our lives. We will remain to believe but till it happens, we cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel or even smell the clean bright air. This has become my life. This has become my tune. I will live with it and it will become my nighttime fellow. I will have to search and find my support. I know that there could be things that I would love for the rest of my life but I just need to find them first. 

Remember me

The Way I Like it

Save me from the end. 

I can like it.

Little toys made of sin.

Poking the back of my,

neck twists and turns.

I can like it.

Innocent boys and murderers. 

Suspend this,

and all the dusty shelves.

I can like it,

Another day and a pendulum chord.

It sways to this day

And go and wait for the sun.

I can't wait for the world.

Sick stains cover my feral tongue.

Hold this little symphony,

I can hear you in the breeze.

Ten feet and dirt covers my knees.

I can like this.

I'll cut my limbs,

I'm doing all this for you.

Do you like it?

I dream of days that are old,

all because of you.

Are something that is right,

the way I like it.

I can fill all the coffins,

then cover my scars.

I can like it.

This is all for you,

and all the infected sores.

You cant tell me, 

that this is wrong.

I know you like it.

I always wanted, 

everything better for you.

The thought stays to this day

And go and wait for the sun.

I can't wait for the world.

Sick stains cover my feral tongue.

Hold this little symphony,

I can hear you in the breeze.

Ten feet and dirt covers my knees.

I can like this.

Remember me

A Poets Psychopathy

I've been having a new set of dreams recently. They still contain this woman in black and blue that I see so often in my life but something is different now. No longer is she the same woman that I have seen for countless years. She molded how I saw things and yet it is only a delusion that my brain has created to deal with my loss and my anguish. If you mold yourself after a thing or even a person, what would happen when you witness that thing to change? Would it take you down with it? She has offered me hope to better and as she changes slowly into something more grotesque and define I can only follow in her footsteps.

 Its nothing that is hardly noticed like a slight change in facial structure in fact, it is the very opposite. I look at this woman and everything that has changed is now what I see in her. I've lived so long to finally be with this woman in black and blue but if my dreams keep treating this like some little puppet, I guess it would be impossible. So many times I have looked towards her for understanding and even with this great shadow that has fallen upon my heart she still seems to amaze me.

Imagine, will you, a person—torn in body and mind, having clothes just enough to cover the skin to a minimum and a look of someone who has been starving for months and has only had the chance to eat a few pill bugs—curled up into a corner shaking, screaming, thrashing at their own skin and what do you feel? An average person—or better to say a "human being"—would say that they would feel sorry for them. Wishing that they could help but I can only feel good about this thought, like it is normal, like it is apart of my everyday life. I feel like I sold my soul to the devil, I feel nothing through the others pain. I find myself to keep staring and examining what was happening rather then trying to help those in need. I would watch to see if they would tear themselves apart and when they are on the side of their deathbed I would continue to wait, just to see if they would follow through.

Call me disturbing but I find this very thing greatly interesting. People examine others to see if they would return lost items or help someone out but I have never seen any studies that involve highly negative consequences. Events that could determine someone’s very existence, playing god as it seems fit to mere mortals, why is this? Because if you partake in this sadistic practice then you are inhumane. Am I inhumane? I don't know anymore. I seem to find myself conforming with everyday life more as the days pass just so I can seem 'normal' but am I doing this intentionally or is it just a reflex? I catch myself from time to time staring at someone’s aguish but as soon as I snap back into reality I act but I can only wonder if I never snapped out of this psychosis that I deal with. It’s interesting to watch those who inflict pain on themselves. Watching to see if they are doing it so they can gain others attention or they just don't care about themselves and those are the ones I look for. They act as if they are a time bomb decaying and when it degrades enough it would finally force itself to explode. Everything can have an opportunity to act like this, especially human beings. 

It’s interesting to watch a person’s life fall down around them. They get desperate and they do whatever they can but same as the ones who inflict pain on themselves, they don't do anything about it. They don't fear the maker or anything that could interfere with their lives and I find that those people can become the most successful in life. They make those jumps because they have nothing to loose and every so often someone finally rises to the top and how do people treat him you may ask?

People say that he was poor at one time and he pushed all he could to see himself making a better life but I don't see this to be so. Everybody is looking for self gain and not even you the reader can deny that. You look at something or someone asks something of you and all you can think is 'what will I get out of this?' Maybe its the people who have already accepted this become the great ones. The ones who are willing to get their hands dirty for the morals that they seem to forget about in the back of their head. 

This woman that I see now has changed into a new kind of breed. Something that I never really thought that could exist. A kind that looks at their own misfortunes and they take advantage of other peoples mortality. She carved out her eyes; every last piece that could be left inside of her was torn out to leave two bloody holes within her face. She was now blind but she remained to live and indulged in her sacrifice. Blood trickled down her rosy cheeks and onto the floor but whenever I looked at her she stood there, smiling, enjoying what it was. Her simple, dainty, dark blue dress is all that she had on her shoulders, bright red lipstick on her lips, small black high heels, long dark hair that surpasses her shoulders and hands that are crossed along her waist. 

I fall in love with her misfortunes. I look at the blood on her cheeks and I feel good. Eyes have always been a key feature that I look for in a woman but even with a woman who has none to her name I still see beauty within her. She walks in and out of my dreams, waving her finger at me for me to take her home. That view of a simple tortured soul makes my heart beat. Scars tell stories, disfiguration tells more. It makes you who you are and I find that beautiful, self-inflicted or not. It tells me that you have emotion, that you are human yourself, you feel pain and you still look for love and what is so inhumane about that? It’s the people who pull through that will become amazing, the ones who destroyed their lives just to see what would happen. The ones who kill themselves. They understand life as it is, no matter how depressing it is and that makes me feel good.  

Remember me

Inspired by True Events

Follow the history,

see what is happening.

What’s happening to me?

I’m not in those books.

I try to loose control,

so I can be with this.

Turn your heads to the sea.

I’m sinking this ship.

You can’t turn this station off,

I am everywhere.

Can’t get rid of me,

I consumed the TV.

I won’t go, give it up, 

your rose, wilts the whole,

world, and nations fall. 

Why am I so hard to touch

my skin is burning

I try hard to believe,

in me and this fake family.

Named after this disastrous,

events so small.

Something is happening to me,

feels kind of pendulous.

Get off the back of me

You cant be me right now

I won’t go, give it up, 

your rose, wilts the whole,

world, and nations fall.

I tear, pages, 

so give it up, your rose.

Blood, craved by nations,

makes the world whole.

Remember me

Lovers, In Chains

Lovers, in chains.

All of us claim,

It wasn't me.

It's hard to go,

out of the city

Go! Just go.

Flee away from me.

You need to hide,

our lovers,

in the dark

covered in chains.

Stop. Stop the noise.

Stop this crying out.

Hate us!

Hate us for,

all we've done.

We're sitting,

waiting,

on the porch right now.

Stab me.

So we both,

can feel it,

inside of me.

It's so cold outside,

to take all my heat.

To take all my fears.

So stop, stop the noise.

Stop this crying out.

So stop.

Stop the cries from lonely boys.

Stop!

Stop the endless days.

Just stop,

women waiting for boys to play.

Killers! They break, into my home.

They stripped off my clothes.

Left me all alone.

Lovers, in chains.

They saw the best of it,

through their filthy eyes.

Just go away from me,

you forgot what it's like inside.

Stop. Stop the noise.

Stop this crying out.

Stop it.

Stop the cries from lonely boys.

Just stop,

wanting more just craving more.

Remember me

If Only If Only (A Predetermined Factor)

They say there’s a dove,

it brings the light from the sun,

it can heal the savagest of wounds.

It gives you its light and a perilous flight.

You do what you can and see what you do,

you now have a heart.

If only if only, the stars of the night,

you could fly like an eagle, just at first sight.

If only if only, you could see,

that the day you were born, you were meant for me.

So I faltered and cried to see this come true.

'You're here for me and I for you.'

A laugh and chuckle, 'That isn't real life.'

'If you gave me a chance you would be my wife.'

it was months from that day,

since she did pass.

I could only wonder if I acted more fast.

If love was predetermined then so was this.

I just wish for another day with my sweet miss.

I now walk these streets with none on my side,

no one will see and no one will fight.

I see those who live predetermined,

so where was I when it was brought to me?

I met a girl and she was lost and behind,

she had a beautiful body,

and a more beautiful mind.

She told me her name,

it sounded so sweet.

She took me to her house,

for something to eat.

She was a mother of one maybe two,

'It hurts to see men walk out on you.

I said no more and I swear I did,

but when I saw you I forgot what I said.'  

Remember me