Why is that?

unconditional love is like
a vice grip on ones heart
one that i don't cannot get off of me
the wierdest thing
and the reason im the most confused
is the lack of ownership of my heart
the complete helplessness
complete submission
is the only way i can see myself
living my life
it makes me happier
than i have ever been
and it raises the question

why is that?

Redundant

ever bombarded by outside forces and
and torn apart by internal struggles;
forces one to think that their opinion is like
a campfire in the desert sun
or an air conditioner in the arctic
useless and redundant

Metaphor for Life

Life is modern art,
subject to thought,
criticism and doubt,
It can be clean-cut or messy,
Minimalistic or grandiose,
Simple or complex,
Fuzzy or defined,
Colors are also subjective, bright pastels for the good days
Blacks and grays for the bad ones
And earth tones for the normal days
The culmination of these days paints a picture
Obscure, clear, and muddy
The contents and meaning of this piece should not matter to anyone
But the artist,
Who is ourselves.

Untilted

create immense thoughts to bring character
to brilliant dizzy answers
empty all cover
use a time device to grow
whisper a description of difficult fiction
judge when chapters end
open inspiring human contact
we're only just sentences
too short,
loud,
and easy
turn with she that must amuse
who discovers why summer days skim over gardens
who are dirty
but when they want color
she finds these streams
that murmur excitement

What Have I Done?

waking from a daze i look at my hands
blood, and lots of it
i have no idea how it got there
then i look infront of me and see a body
with a knife coming out of its spine
thinking to myself what have i done?
that person could have had a family
a lover, friends
and i have no idea how i got their blood on my hands
i geuss i would have had to killed them
but who are they
who's life have i ruined
and the lives of their loved ones
i walk over to the body and feel its pulse
i can't find one
they're dead and cold
then i flip over the body
...and look myself in the face

Silent Rage

furious burning hate
building inside of
me hoping it will
never overflow but
secretly wishing it
would so i could
let this rage
this pure unrated
silent rage explode
and relieving the
pressure from my
life permanently

Black and White

As he sits in the white chair

Across from the black one

Realizing what happened

In the black one.

Realizing what he wants

To happen in

The white one.




He's wanting good in the world,

But realizes it

Will never happen.

Screaming injustices in faces

Is the way he

wishes he can

Change things he cannot.




Standing up he lights a match

Lighting he past ablaze

Finally being able to leave his past

And his ability

To change his future opens up

And is as plain as

Black and White.