world is my stage.

I have sat here for over a hour,

Staring at the same piece of paper

That remains as blank as before

I began trying with frightening despair

To jot down one line, one metaphor

But nothing comes from within here.

Short of only depressing fits of horror.

I suppose I am relieved of this duty

Which I was forced to endure by destiny

That cruel mistress that feeds off energy

Rather it be joys or episodes of fury

Even seems to feast off of my anxiety.

What if this is it? What if I am now dry?

After all this heartache, that this day

Once it is over so to is my lovely ability

To draft from my pains images of poetry?

Is there a prayer to cite which just may

If I repent enough return without any delay

That onslaught, merciless, present brutality?

The one that I desire yet adore so dearly?

Oh how unfair it is! Its unbelievable creativity,

The way it needs from me my endless misery

To further paint relatable tidbits of literacy

For others in my position can hopefully

Find comfortable solace within the pity

That I describe so easily with my vocabulary?

Giving the illusive delusion that is necessary

In order to provide an image that my misery

Is something I can cope with so effortlessly?

When those who have known me, truly

Been by my side as I tip towards insanity

As often as a kid on a teeter saw just for play

When truthfully it is a tease so mercilessly

That offers me freedoms which ever way

I decide to lean towards by end of the day?

Thus far I have seen the truth so clearly

It fulfilled me with grief so damn deeply

That I cannot make a choice my lovely.

Live on with this pain that hurts so dearly

All to be capable of creating things of beauty

To express how terrible I behave regularly?

Or cease holding this pen i grasp so tightly

abandon all hope for anything but tragedy?

To live my days free from turmoil but only

For a life lived completely emotionally empty

Void of love and passion just as mutually

As I would be spared the troubles of misery?

The world i suppose is the stage where I play

And act out my deeds with none that dearly

Care about the way it ends, long as they pay

To get a show, entertainment any damn way

April 27th free style

Speaking up from the places I would prefer to remain hidden in the shadows mystery / yet time is a fickle thing making everyone an enemy / no matter whom you think can be completely trust worthy / you find yourself realizing the errors of your way / I been stuck under oppression from some forgotten memory / a place that in dreams reminds me of my inability / to ever be anything other than a skilled tongues salesman my family/ except I cannot escape the gift I got as divinity/ with all I do there comes some glory / minus the loves i had who desired a family / they were dedicated and smart just boarder line crazy / to think someone like me would ever suddle for anything other than the streets cos I enjoy being crazy / never thought I'd be this far so every day I live is borrowed time anyway / if I ever love again, for that woman I pity / was never once to enjoy life's finer moments, that I know for certainty / despite trying to learn to slow and enjoy the little things that life throws out way / are you patient enough to appreciate the flowers scent or too busy/ too busy to ever see the world and its offered beauty?

beauty is skin deep

beautiful women serve as nothing more than a simple reminder 

that life itself by its own design is inherently unfair

her smile, for example, is never for me but always for another

despite the fact inside there's explosions when she comes near

regardless of all my efforts to be the reason for her laughter

all i end up doing is being another cause for her to suffer

this is something we found that we both for once could agree

of all my life this is the only thing i can do without failure

repent.

I see beauty as a servitude to something 

That is merely a reminder to what coming,

That life by its own design is a beauty

That is forever inherently, cruel, baby.

An example is her and another

Despite facts that come near

Regardless of efforts to laughter

All we end up doing is only to suffer.

If one thing we can all actually agree

Is that life has more to offer

Than just more reasons for failure...

apology

For me to find some kind of safety

Inside redemption is kind of crazy,

More so than to hear an apology 

To come from me some day.

Time comes and steals every single day

Still I do not get depressed over reality

So I look for kind words if just barely.

the monsters are in us all

Behind every smile i wear

We know there hides a monster.

I try, do so than most, try harder

To keep a deceitful way I endure

Out of the limelight of the future 

When I am unable to see for

A day of happiness that can inspire

Anyone, anywhere, darling, you are aware

That In your eyes exists a sparkle

One that is impossible to try and ignore.

It lures me across times, that is true.

Though most days will be a bore

But don't forget more will appear

Over the horizon sooner than later

I accept the truth that the monster

That lives inside me will re appear

And then that means disaster 

For all those I legitimately do care.

April 27th

Each and every day I wake to this fear

That today I must again face another

Day to which has no reason for me, here.

Hence why I dress myself in fits of despair.

The light of day illuminates all we are

That reason doesn't mean I ain't got fear,

When you see anything and everywhere

I could go, I'm left feeling someplace familiar 

Each room full of folks that now be stranger

Than when I had visited them before.

Lately I calm myself with what I am able

Such as another cup of green tea that's stale

Because something stronger will matter 

To me very little if even does matter-

To me, very little in regards to how I care.

Every day is a piece of peace taken away

Stolen by everyone telling their sob story

As if making my life harder will be easy.

Each phrase I speak throughout the day

Is just another reminder of what I can't say

When forced to make my movements appear 

As of orchestrated by something other

Than the Marinette doll of some danger,

One leading me closer to the devil I swear.

In a quiet bed I lay in pain trying to just try

And discover the inevitably fact of theory

That promises the inability for it to fade away

Not this simple bouts of pain I feel daily.

Mother wished someone hold me tightly

When everyone else just promises of empty

Words that cannot make a man ever happy

If their restrictions to words choke strongly.

Shameful I have never felt honesty

To do more than bring forth more misery

Which echoes inside me so personally

Echoing my own hateful sense so proudly.

Where do restless call home? Constantly,

I wonder but so far there is absolutely

No one with answers that can satisfy

This desire to devour endless whiskey,

While I delude myself to accept joy

Could one day make me again be happy.

Even as my skin slowly turns shade of yellow.

That leaves me choking back need to cry

Since most days I do honestly try

But even hardest men sometimes must cry.

When all in the world is feelings of lonely.