Anonymousthere are some people in the worldthat even the world can't recognize anymorethat label themselves with romantic sayingsthat aren't romantic at alljust tragic and hopeless -an infection that targets the heartwhen it tries to conquer the mindthere's an imbalance in the soulwhen it becomes so shrouded with demonslicking their teeth like hungry flamesthat they can share it with the worldwith the simplicity of pressing - 'click'of a gunor a keyit's an infectionthat spreads through the hopeless and the lonelya side of people that others can't recognizewhen the rest is locked awaybehind manufactured screens and facadesthat tug strings around their willlistening closely is hardabove the screeches of those demonsas they spread through the shadowsand settle in a civil riotthat causes nothing but train wreck suicidesand yetsometimes you can whispers of cowardiceand the remains of the hopethat was poured down drainsbecause those demons need more -more targets, more v
Wordswords are likehandholdsthat i can neverquiteget the right grip onor i justcan't reach -which makes itsuch a shamesincethey're all i have
the addiction of flyingI think I've becomeaddictedtoflyingbecause through the never ending waves ofeuphoriaand the way I cansquint my eyes to putthe earth and sky in my handsthe wind has enough roomto embrace mein a cocoon of forgotten memoriesand I've always considered itupsettingthat in the one place i can't build barrierssince an eternal abyss can't hurt youthe only way i can reach itis in the depths of sleep.
The final hours of unfinished novelssometimesit's scary to think about the waytime once wrote my name on its coverand closed the unfinished novelat the tip of a train wreck suicidei wonder why i thought to sit downand wait for it to returnto write words with a clarity to banishthe shadows following the past's clumsy stumblesbecause it was destined to go wrong -walking across a red stringlike a circus freakthat would only collapse when someone tore itsometimesits scary to think how we'resurrounded by people who can't bare to liveand settle for merely survivinglike the specks of dust that are brushed awaywith dismissive glances and criticismso i've followed the ink that rolled off pens onto paperlike words rolls off my tongue into thin air(help me)i'm stood atop isolated clifftopsat the edge of a suicide -carving butterflies into novelsthat brand flecks of blood on my skinbecause sometimes its scaryand sometimes its crazyto find myself in piecesthat were swept aside like those flecks of dust(s
ScarsThe scars on my skinHave been transferred from my heartTo preserve my mind
painted clocksthere areclockspainted on my backbecause even if I can'tstandto watch time fly byI will never outrun it
...and everytime i flipthroughthese empty pages,alli can seeare the blankstares glaringbackat me.[i have nothing to say .]
The HopeIm tired,but im still inspired,to shine like a diamondAnd stay sharp like a gem stone,sometimes feeling like an alienBut this E.T. can still always phone homeIm stayin connected with my spirit which has been resurectedIm so blessed today that my thinking is no longer infectedI didnt just seize the day i own every momentIm still livin my life,i have a chance and i havent blown itOut of the grip,i aint living sick I've seen hell through a needle pointNow i just have a hope shot,thats the hitIm not stumblin around caught up in my shitIm walking and not dead,alive for sure with nothin but hope to spreadI have gotten back my dignity.its more then a threadIts a spool that im weevin, sharin my story to give people somethin to believe inIve shed my skin,because it was akin to a prisonNow im truly livin,seeing life through these eyes that are no longer screaming........
Being Humanmy actions are finally lining up with my wordsbut the line i walk as i take the actions that will define me is very thinwalking along either side of an edgeto balance my life along those very edges can sometimes push me to the brinkbut to the brink of what?is it insanity?is it a full surrender to the process of change?does it make me less of a man to tell you im afraid?does it make me more of a man to pound you into dust until you fear me?the question isint what makes me a man?because the answer is im a human being,its just that simplei feel pain,i feel love,i hurt,i feel joy,i feel everythingand that makes me perfectly human,no more or no less of a manwhen i was brought into this world i was a babywe should all consider ourselves childrenthey are the most human of us allthey love unconditionally,they express themselves without fear of judgementbecause nobody has conditioned them to fear being that humanare we brave enough to have the courage of a child?they will look
happy family.and it would make no differenceif these walls couldtalk,because even they know whento keep quiet.
remembering.no matter how many cigarettes i light,i can never get the smoke to smell quite the sameas it did pouring from your lips...i guess the same thing goes for sleep,because my bed is nothingcompared to that stupid sofa beneath your window.
fourdo not wish upona star, the starsare dead; the skyis filled with corpses
A Galaxy SighsShe exhales sky from her lungs.
We could beborders like woundscut across the pathdivide neighborsfoster wrathone hand fullunwilling to sharewhile another emptybarren and barejudgment firmlykeeping scorewhile humans sufferwe could be morebricks build a wallone at a timecan never stand too tallfor love to climbforeign and hungrydesperate and poorno wonder theybreak down the doorgovernments estrangeflags implorewe the peoplewe could be more
Second Chance JittersI was given a second chance,to start again without worrying about that second glanceIm feared up and afraid of what they will be thinking,but im showing up dry as a bone,this ship im on is no longer sinkingIll stand tall and not say a word,keep my head down and remember the things they think about me are just rumors they heardI will remain humble and keep my shoulders square,Ill keep going,in spite of my pastI have abandoned the hope that things will turn out the way i project in all the pictures i have paintedThe stories i write about the unknown are unscripted,projections of uncertainty that are fear based and not factIts just a feeling i get from time to time as i have been traveling this long road back I see the sun again and that is truth,I dont have to listen to hear the birds singingIt comes very natural since my old wounds have stopped stingingI will besiege karma with my actions not with my wordsBecause i have been taught if i dont stand for something i will fal
PiecesI say that I’m alright becauseit is easier to lie, than for youto peel away the layers, and bedisappointed with the personI am underneath.
Right NowWhere to start,at the beginning i would imagineThe trick is for me to stay in a place where i know when to let what starts actually have an endingTo not hold on,to let things take its course and at some pointto be in a moment,good or bad,and to know its going to come to an end is so freeingIt has been the most loving thing i have ever done for myself To accept that simple truthI have tried to bend it,manipulate it,work around it,and even those actions eventually come to an endAnd thats when it hit meWhatever happens,tragedy,triumph,they are just moments to be inMore importantly,i have to remember to allow them to passNot to stay stuck in something that is overOr i will never growI will never learnI will never see what is next,because i will be to busy worrying about what just happenedand what just happened is overeverything that happened is over,it happened alreadySo the question i always ask myself is,whats happening right now........
Heart and SoulIm in tune,as my heart swoons,it skips a beat as i look to the moonIts inspiring and keeps me desiring for changemy soul was just a blip on my own radar screen,my days started off with my spirit starting to screamIt wasnt a dream,as much as i wished that is was,i couldnt see reality clearly because i had no real perspectiveAs i have been growing i have changed my objective,i have gained strength from the information i have gatheredMy viewpoint is subjective according to the information i apply,but i cant deny that life has pried open my proverbial 3rd eyeI see you,and now i allow you to see me,into me as i have always seen through you,into your heart that has always been so blindIm open,and without hoping for anything,there isint a string to be pulled by,but a thread that connects usTo each other and the world,im not finished,im just getting started,healed up mostly, no longer feeling incomplete or broken hearted
What A Strange WorldWhat a strange world we live inThe more time passes by the more you noticeThat the people you thought you knew weren’t realAnd the people who thought that they knew you only created images about you and just wanted you to fit in themThe more time passes by the more you noticeThat blood is only a liquid that flows in your veins but has nothing to do with the word “family”That you might be related by blood but not by feelingsThat a “family” can be a couple of people pretending to be happyAnd that a bunch of stranger can turn out to be your real familyThe more time passes by the more you noticeThat life is important to some peopleAnd it’s a burden to some othersA burden that makes them think that they are worthless and their lives are better off given to someone who really deserves itThe more time passes by the more you noticeThat some people can’t live without other people they need their support to build their livesWhereas some ot
The JourneyShadows dance alongThe endless strip ofAsphalt. I walk down theLine of never ending black,Never leaving my dispute withThe heat."A knocking at my chamber door,The world shall end in ice.Behold! The Light Brigade!Tiger, Tiger, burning bright."Words repeat, never-ceasing,Echoing along the grey matter rampartsThat wall the languageWithin.What is thisTo anyone else?My limbs tremble withFatigue, sweat rolling,Hitting the paved road ahead."When will this end?" I cry,Stumbling in my stride as IFall to my knees.My breath is short;My hands are worn,And my bones grow weary.My arms shudder, as doesMy body, pleadingFor rest.I look before me,Lifting my head to theHarsh light of day.A society,A people in the windBeckon me towards them.I hear their words.I see their bodies urging meTo come forward.I look past them,Seeing a page of white,Alone and without purposeFluttering in the wind.My hands curl into fists,The pavement disappearingBeneath themAs I lift my
best guessdebts pile upas life goes byforgiveness like mercyis often in short supplyit's impossible to givesomething you don't possessso practice first upon yourselfis my best guess
The feeling we all shareHow can it be true,That we all feel the same when,We all feel alone?
Hangman.I cursed my hangmanuntil I remembered whosenoose was 'round his throat.
Kill This AnimalAs the music hits the beatEvery note the drum poundsEvery strike the guitar takesCan you feel it yet?That inescapable Hell?I'm caged inside this worldFilled with endless rageI'm reaching to you from the darknessA darkness I can't controlIs this real?Is this me?I need you -Help me...My head is spinning,Endless timesThe rage is rising...I'm losing the hopeThat I'll ever get throughIt seems as othersThink this is me -The real me...Is it?It's a nightmare,Uncontrollable...It's a Hell,I need woken from...What if you sawThe depths of the darknessThat lives inside?Could you help me,Rid of this darkness...?Can you help me,Find... Me?Will you help me,Kill this animal?
.it's such a shamethat welivein a worldwhere the answer is more importantthen the questionand the destination moreimportantthan the journey -if we can't evenbearsurvivinghow do we startliving?