A Good Man

A Good Man 

I was always told 

to be a good man. 

But as I grow older 

I realize that this 

idea is simply and utterly 

just an idea. 

It is impossible to be as good of a man  

because it requires 

demands 

that the needs of others  

are much more important 

than your own base desires 

that inspire you to grow 

You can lose your self to being 

a good man 

to the point you forget who you are. 

Now there are bad men in the world

men who are too selfish 

unlike the good men 

who are entirely too unselfish 

You don't be a good man. 

You try to be. 

Or thats what I tell myself 

every day when the sun stirs me 

from the dark slumbers of sleep. 

I am alone in this world

full of people who struggle 

laugh

love 

fall out of love 

There is so much noise

and now I see 

that I should try and be a kind 

and good man. 

And your attempts are rewarded 

in those smiles from those

who see that you are not just an idea 

but a real 

and tangible thing. 

A good man is just an idea 

but a man who tries to be good 

and do the right thing 

without being dishonest with himself

or others. 

Now that...that is a man 

who I will strive to be. 

Yester Year

Yester Year 


Hard to imagine
that in the yester year 
this was a night full of tears 
fears 
and shadows. 

My only friends where people  
I would eventual hurt 
and only recently find peace with. 

Self loathing demons feasting on scars 
and words fed by people who's unknowing toxicity 
made my temperament of compassion 
a weakness and not a source of strength. 

The coming week during that yester year
saw a shimmer of hope 
in the form of a sudden adventure to see a film so dear 
with two friends who held me up 
when I could barely stand myself. 
That Friday would forge the counting hours 
of an internal struggle between the hard 
and the easy ways 
to cure my recent discovery of the monsters 
in my battered skull. 

In this present though 
I'm still here 
and I will not hide the fact 
that a lot of tears have been shed. 
My heart broke completely, 
twice as a matter of fact, 
as I tried to reestablish myself 

but the story has continued
continues to be my own 
and many days will continue to come. 

That ghost of yester year 
will always haunt me 
but a good ghost story
makes one inch closer
to warm lights. 

Historia

Historia 

As the histories reflect 
the ripples that got me to where I am now 
in front of this imported laptop 
in a foreign land 
where the only light that can be cast around at 2 am 
is one of a laptop glow 
that allows the images and songs 
of things all over my known world 
try and comfort me 

I think about the struggles that I am facing 
had faced 
will face 

And though the world around me isn't silent 
my mouth is one that is 
and in that silence I find a kind of fear 

--------------------------------------

and leave those words 
that are written above linger and almost fade 
but a future rights 
that everything will be okay 
because history is made for 'his story' 
and my story 
is one for the age

A Year

A Year 

has gone by since that afternoon sunset
where I went to sleep only to wake up
to the hiss of a kettle
and the urge for a friendly tea time.

A year has gone by
since that tear filled phone call
and worrying friends
while I recovered from my own
loss of self control.

I sit here in a foreign land
and I weep quite tears of seeing two stupid pictures
of happiness for someones once dear to me.

Boy have I lost a lot in the year that has gone.
Friends,
lovers,
chances,
opportunities,
and hell....
I nearly lost my soul.

But I have been reminded of what I do have,
family,
my memories of happier days,
the stories that still keep me strong,
and most importantly,
loving my own broken soul.

And what I have gained,
is so much more heartbreak
so much more fear
and so much faith in that this hardship
this road that I'm walking on
is going to reward me in ways
I can not even try and understand.

For the most part,
I don't think I've ever truly been happy.
But as I walk in the days of my re-birthday
I shed a tear and force a smile to nurture,
because there are still many more years to come
and even though my life will always be a struggle
I think I'm finally starting to come and accept
that simple little fact

Stuttering Heartbeats

Stuttering Heartbeats 

The twilight happiness 
that I have found in the warmth 
of friends and nights or feeling that I am worth 
fades as clouds of memories start to flood back 
the powerful emotions that roamed so freely 
amongst my hallways of bones 
echoes of a stuttering heartbeat 

All these visions and memories 
come in with the spring rain 
but each drop that I thought was finally cleansing me 
is start to poison me and fill my lungs
like I am drowning again. 

I can help feel that I am starting to walk in a circle 
and step on foot steps I have already treaded on
even though I swore I would never go down that road again. 

As the needs of the day start to weigh in 
I feel tied down as I still struggle 
to find the peace that can cut off the feeding tendrils 
to the creature that dwells in the deep dark 
of the ribbed cage that is within me. 

My heart stutters as it tries to find the words 
that I've never known or learned 

The words that won't make me question
and won't let the shadowed thoughts
have the advantage 

Whispers of Maybes

Whispers of Maybes 

For starters 
I really don't care 
but like all nights 
where you and I mingle 
with drink in hand 
and our stressful overthinking 
takes a swim in the spirits of a Friday night, 

we always look at each other 
like travelers at the other side of a bridge 
that we can not cross. 

I don't know what it is 
but we always click 
though we both know the outcome 
of our similarities 
meshing together. 

Granted the friction would be intoxicating 
and for the briefest moments we could share 
the feeling that you and I both desperately crave 

The feeling that we aren't alone. 
That when we wake up 
we aren't in the grasp of a cold isolation 
that foreign lands 
and daily struggles present to us 

As I tucked you sleep 
and I returned to my night of drinking and merry making 
I walked home alone and thought about the words I would remember
and you would most likely forget. 

It could be fun. 
The whispering "maybe" 
under our breath as we look passionately 
at each other 
knowing that it would be the easy way out 
and we have a nasty habit 
of falling for struggles. 

I Remember A Dance

I Remember A Dance 

I remember a dance 
from so long ago 
where even though we read lines
to get better grades 

we showed our peers 
the secret 
the taboo of classroom rules 
that we ironically 
and I guess presently 
tragically fell in love. 

The forgotten name 
to that play 
makes me laugh 
for I will remember its story 
of lovers lost 
and then found again 
despite the present lines 
that would keep them truly apart. 

As the lines faded 
as we danced the players songs 
I looked into your eyes 
for our finale kiss 

Those eyes 
those brown eyes that forever remind me 
of crisp fall evenings 
in a wood full of life 
and the mortality of living.

In that twilight memory 
I move my feet 
for I remember how to dance 
sadly without you 

April Eve

April Eve 

April eve is upon me 
and I wonder if this is just a little April shower 
that decided to leak out of me early 
or if the hurricane that has been raging so fierce 
for oh so long
is coming back full swing 
as the peace of mind in its eye 
is moving away from me 
like all things that give me peace
eventually do 

Powerfully Turbulent

Powerfully Turbulent 

As the minute hand hums 
the passing of time 
from one hour 
to a day 
to the coming month 
of this man's dying 
birth
dying again
and once again rebirth 
the banshee screams 
of the pain of the New Year's Kiss 
brought upon me 
I though where finally fading. 

But of late 
every time I speak 
I feel like I'm punching myself in the gut 
and the silence brought upon saying 
"I'm doing okay" 
apparently was quite 
because you don't want to scare off 
the prey that is my healing heart. 

The dripping jaws of anxiety 
have been waiting patiently 
as the birds of paradise once again thought it safe
to land on the icy shores 
of solitude and hope. 

The silent breathe of that anxious beast 
hidden the clouds of the depressive blues 
rages turbulent 
as joy leads to hate
hate leads to tears
tears lead to the abyss
and the line I've built to pull myself out 
once again looks like it might not be strong enough 
since I think at the top of the ledge
there might not be enough hands 
for be to believe are there. 

I sit in my hole in the ground 
cluttered with the signs that I've been more surviving 
than living 
thinking in fear 
of quickly the hopeful wind 
can carry daggers when the thought of you 
the thought of loving another 
the thought that I could be with someone 
makes me pour the held back tempest in my eyes 
but at the end of the day 
I still feel like I don't deserve it. 

That I am forever cursed to be too turbulent 
for happiness to ever truly grow 

Morn

Morn 

A few letters thrown together
to form a word 
a name 
but more importantly 
a memory. 

A song or tale 
that I can see or hear 
or both 
flashes memories of you 
of her 
and them 

Its been a long road 
since those spring showers 
that I nearly drowned in. 

As the seconds 
minutes
hours
days
weeks 
toll in on a year of rebirth 

I reflect and smile 
on all that I have achieved and gained. 

But these stray tears 
and the feeling that I have been punched in the gut
remind me of everything 
and everyone
I have lost 
to either their own understandings 
or my worst and deadly shadows 

Mosaic Walls

Mosaic Walls 

Under the influence of someone else 
I caught a glimpse of your mosaic walls 
from behind the table 
at an all you can eat eatery. 

We both found friendship 
that continued when she left me 
and things faded with yours. 

I think at first we didn't know why 
or maybe you did 
and I just didn't believe 
I could actually call myself a friend
so someone like you. 

You stuck up for me 
despite what she said
all because I made you laugh 
that December day 
now a yester year 
in our paths. 

Over time 
the farther I seem to be away from your home 
the more our bond grew 
in a beautiful friendship 
that even from here 
I can see is starting to show 
on your mosaic walls. 

I'm a distant tile 
that isn't at the top 
but I'm not at the bottom either. 

Even from this distant 
I can see the patchwork that keeps those walls strong 
as I can only imagine the pain, love, and 
the wild or cool emotions that are behind 
those towering walls. 

But as the glow of my laptop 
is the only embrace I know of your warmth 
I am happy that we are on each other's minds 
with cats and sea cows. 

I look forward to our next meeting 
and the adventures that will follow 
because its been a while 
that I've found a friendship 
that is so wonderful depicted 
on a mosaic wall as lovely as yours. 

Station 17

Station 17 

I woke up before the sunrise 
as the embers that kept me warm 
in that dreamland 
that I stumbled into 
constructed by memories of you 
and that rainbow connection we had. 

I don't know where it came from 
but you emerged to me in the dream 
that smile of yours guiding me 
to listen to your words. 

Maybe its all in my head 
and my terrors are trying to hurt my heart 
with giving me hope 
that maybe our story 
isn't quite done. 

I don't know you anymore
but at the same time 
I still feel linked to you 
for my heart sometimes gets heavy 
and I think "she's out on those crossroads again." 

I barely know the new you 
but I feel like I would still love you 
the way I did before. 

In the dream I had with you 
you told me that I was the one still 
but distance keeps ups from each other
as I try and figure my way to sustain 
and you try and figure out who you truly are. 

All I want to do 
is tell you I love you still, 
but I fear it would scare you 
with such a random out of the blue. 

In that waking moment 
between 4:30 in the morning and 5, 
I fell back onto that beach 
that cold December night 
where I got down on my knees 
to tell you 
how truly special you were to me. 

That memory is always so clean 
because whenever I'm sad
I remember that someone like you 
so flawed but perfect at the same time, 
said yes 
to a man who's path is still hidden from view. 

Phantoms

Phantoms 

I think it's ironic 

But probably fitting 

That our best time together 

Our little secret date to the zoo 

Introduced me to the planet of mists 

And the phantoms that lurked 

On that alien world. 

You smiled at me 

So beautifully as I was so intensely 

Interested in this tale

Of a world of mystery and magic 

That sadly in a universe of 

Non-believers 

Has it's mystical truth 

Evolve to a hallowed 

And sad truth 

That ghost stories 

Are simply ghost stories. 

And the sadder truth 

The truth that you and his face 

Say to me as I gaze in the cold 

At an iPhone screen....

Is I am to you a ghost story 

A haunting chill that sometimes 

Flutters in your chest 

and his touch makes you safe. 

I don't like feeling like a Spector 

But I think to a lot 

I am this ghost 

Simply a black and white photo 

Dulled to a faded grey 

Because of a dusty attic. 

Because that story told me 

That when you are a phantom 

That haunts but inspires. 

But as I think about the drive back 

From the zoo 

And the love that was blurring 

I realize that the feeling we felt 

Didn't truly exists. 

And it like the alien phantoms 

Ended up debunked 

And forgotten 

To all but the ones that remember 

That wants to believe 

In the impossible. 

Maybe some day 

My story will be told 

As if I was alive 

But till I can figure out a way to tell it 

I will live in this windowed limbo 

And watch you and him 

Simply forget 

The phantom that you onced believed 

The Difference of Joy

The Diference of Joy 

Features two concepts 

That the brain can release 

To relieve the worst of emotions. 

Fear, hatred, and loneliness fade 

As the good feelings pour into your 

Husk of a body 

And allow one to bloom.

Happy though 

Is an emotion brought by the self 

Where only your being 

Your mind

Creates the emotional drug 

Of good feelings that 

Hold or neutralize 

The self hating wounds 

One can give them self. 

Being glad though 

I feel is a more human 

More special feeling. 

For the emotion that haunts humanity 

Is the fear 

The emotion 

Of loneliness. 

Our social DNA needs 

Craves the thought 

Of being glad 

Because being glad 

Means that someone is 

Dosing you with happiness 

That can last longer 

Help you find your own happiness 

And if it reflects 

That is double the joy. 

I mean

This is what I tell myself 

Since honestly meeting you 

Has been something 

That makes me feel both 

As you try not to show that way 

You smile at me. 

Right Now

Right Now 

I sit in cold 

In the shadow of a building 

That shows the finer things of life 

Reflecting about what has happened 

What is happening

And what could happen. 

I smile to the beat 

Of being hooked on a feeling

And hope things go well. 

I miss her. 

I am falling for another her. 

I think of that one. 

I realize here on this block 

I am so young 

As well as old. 

I am this fluxing present 

An egnima to the worlds around me. 

I keep having dreams of your blonde hair and coral lips. 

Nothing that is sexual 

Just being happy with you 

As I learn to accept 

The ghosts of the others 

That dwell in my heart. 

Everyday seems to be another day 

That a part of me peels off 

To reveal some new side of me 

That I try to live with. 

Right now

I think things are changing 

And soon 

Very soon

I will be the one that will be given the 

Choice 

The burden 

The responsibility 

Of making a few choices 

Life altering choices 

A reality. 

With a smile 

And a shiver in the cold 

I look at the starless 

Polluted skies of Korea 

Knowing that above the haze 

There are stars aligning 

Just for me. 

Icicles

Icicles

.....are like heartbreak. 
They can happen over night 
usually in the coldest of winds 
but in the daylight they can shimmer 
and shine like diamonds. 

But over time the can melt away 
or worse fall straight down 
and pierce you through. 

And by the time spring nestles down next to you 
the sharp and cold pain 
has melted away, 
leaving only the hole
of where your heart 
once was. 

Seat

Seat 

Even though you've stated 
you don't want to sit next to me 
a few dozen times
I like that you do 
when we are in the room
watching things on screens 
and laughing. 

I find it difficult though
to come up with a reason 
to try and look at you, 
just so I can see you smile
at your favorite things
because having you around 
makes me see better. 

Smirk

Smirk

I find it a bit problematic 
that she inspires me, 
whenever the quiver of that smirk 
stirs in my body 
I reach for the keyboard 
and wish to try and write
a masterpiece poem 
that captures the swirl of emotions 
I feel for her. 

But like all things 
that whisper the muse of creation 
the feelings of reserving myself 
do tend to drive me into madness
as I stand in front of her 
in the borders of wanting to take a step back 
or a few steps closer 
and get a proper look 
at that god damn smirk. 

Smudges on Glass

Smudges on Glass

Behind the cracks
and the smudges 
left by a broken heart 
I can see you. 

Well, 
I think I see you. 
I like to say 
that I can see you. 
But even when one goes to look 
at something wild and beautiful 
behind glass 
you don't know what she is really thinking. 

Quite literally I came through the door
and into your life 
as you welcomed yourself
into mine. 

We had people 
we still have people 
more or less 
but I can't get you out of my mind. 

I don't know what it is, 
and why I have so much compassion 
for the soul behind the glass. 

You drift in and out of view 
and always seemed to be running
trying to break free 
the shackles of your past. 

I sit in my quite bed
and think you are just up those stairs
alone in your room 
with only the light of a screened window 
to comfort you 
with homely faces 
and past dreams. 

I wish I knew 
if I simply have a crush 
because I can only touch the glass 
and not the true beauty that lies 
on the other side. 

A longing for those coral lips, 
eyes of a vast and starry sky 
and tangles of hair that 
weave your delicate features 
into honest and true beauty. 

I try 
I try and keep cool
but when I do slip in 
behind the glass 
and hold you close 

I get lost in you 
its an interesting sensation 
as I feel with each blind 
but passionate kiss 
the decade that is behind you 
and the decade that is still ahead for me. 

I mean 
I wasn't lying 
that it wasn't the physical beauty 
that you have been perfected with, 
but its your almost unbearable personality. 

But I like it. 
I like the worst and best of you. 
Because isn't that what being a human, 
being real, 
having your struggles
your god-awful thoughts 
your laugh 
your smile, 
is all about? 

I think its the way you look at me 
before we lean in 
and it makes me feel 
well 
giddy? 

I have no clue how you are really looking at me 
you say its nothing 
but I've seen you look 
at others and I don't see those 
happy but weary sorrowed eyes
just the dash of intoxication 
and looking for the quick fix 
to the daylight troubles.

Maybe I just look for it 
and mistake my own reflection of longing 
from the glass walls 
you stay behind. 

I look at the days now with slight dread
because I can see things packing up 
and you moving away 
from display
and most likely for me 
to never see you again. 

It makes my heart ache. 
Is it the fear of having a friend go away 
when it is in a sense 
partially my fault 
for having my heart in the right place?

Because the I think 
the happiest moment 
from the other night 
was cleaning your lipstick smudges 
and finding your smile under them. 

That wonderful smile 
that for the briefest of moments 
let us break through the glass wall
and touch the feelings 
we know in the sobering light of day  
we can not feel. 

Little Black Bird

Little Black Bird 

Little black bird 
little black bird
why did you have to fly over me? 

Little black bird 
little black bird 
why do you follow me so? 

Little black bird 
little black bird 
why must you let your black feathers 
fall onto my already troubled heart 

little black bird 
why do you peck at the good 
that tries to worm its way out 
and with those doll eyes 

remind me of all the pain 
all the hurt 
that I have caused to myself 
that I have caused to others

Why does your caw 
remind me that you,
little black bird, 
make me feel regret? 

Why do you make me feel 
that even though I am alive 
you and your flock 
have turned to be vultures 

as I struggle to fill my thirst 
with thrown away empty bottles 
hoping that some message of hope 
will quench the thirst 
that I'll be okay 

Temptation

Temptation 

Your choice of choosing 
the easy way 
makes my wires 
send the wrong signals 
that if I write it 
I will be inspired 
to find my easy way too. 

But unlike you 
who gave into temptation 
I will fight 
because others matter to me
and there is still 
so much to do. 

I Think Its Love -A Dark Comedy-

I Think Its Love -A Dark Comedy-

I think its love
or at least some kind of love

because honestly 
half the time I don't know 
to either hold you
and whisper sweet nothings 

or to just throw you into on going traffic. 

The Vivid Red Line

The Vivid Red Line 

I had 
for the oddest of reasons 
a most vivid dreamscape 
that was all about 
you
and 
I. 

How long has it been 
that your grace, 
those wild fire eyes, 
and the laugh that 
is in the borders 
of merriment and struggle; 
echo deep into my 
dormant and cold veins. 

It wasn't a dream 
that rode on a brief 
but sensual desire 
for the primal flesh 
of what two becoming one. 

It was a re-meeting 
after all these years. 
A rekindling to a flame that 
was believed to have been extinguished long ago 
from the pale moonlight 
of a now distant beach 
all those memories ago. 

You were as stubborn as always
being the damn cat that you are
as you and I ventured 
in our ethereal bodies. 
We talked about the trails 
of life as we kindred warning label children 
try and accept our shocking anxieties 
and almost limiting depressions. 

Your parents suddenly made a scene 
where they smiled at me 
and winked at you 
which made you freak 
and you stole my hat. 

Of all the things 
a dream could turn to be 
it had to mirror our first true meeting 
and how you stole my hat 
which lead me to share my heart. 

As morning started to stir my body to motion 
the world started to end as the vision began to turn 
that you and I were going out into the world beyond 
that lucid house, 
but first we watched a movie 
of science fiction fancy 
sneaking our bodies 
to find each other
 like long lost lovers, 
tracing the scars that have seared into our souls 
since our last kiss. 

Your last words 
as we prepared to meet up with our friends 
was simply holding my hand and smiling 
"The cat wishes to play, and hopes that her dinosaur will join." 

The dreamy words echoed in my head 
as I hurried to be dress 
for another day's labor 
as a teacher of youth 
in a land so far away from her. 

The phrase pleasantly haunted me 
as memories of our time slowly came back 
and I totally couldn't believe 
I honestly forgot 
about that image of a cat and dinosaur 
that is forever entombed in a senior yearbook. 

Should I take this dream as prophecy? 
That maybe this showing that vivid red line 
that is unknowingly tied to the one that matters most 
and eventually will bring you in close? 

Or am I simply have 
pleasant nightmares 
that remind me that my reality 
is colder and lonelier 
than ever 
and all the love and warmth I can find 
is hidden deep 
in the tombs of my memories. 

Past or Present Tensions

Past or Present Tensions 

I sit here 
in my office 
feeling like I am a man 
stuck on an island where 
all the ships past
and my S.O.S 
is only greeted 
with ignoring looks 
and little goodbyes. 

The tempest of tears 
floods me internally 
as I come to the conclusion 
I seem unable 
to forgive myself 
for the selfish action 
that put me on this isolated island 
in the first place. 

I sit on the shores of sanity 
and look at the turbulent seas of madness 
to question the minds of far off lands 
if I am spoken in the past 
or the present tense. 

Why does it seem that as the storms break 
everyone went for cover 
and barred their doors 
and left me out to face 
the drowning rain 
and booming voice 
that stings the lighting thoughts
 of those memories 
of words of bonds 
that fractured 
the good memories that kept me going
when all seemed lost. 

I wish I could translate 
the feeling to people 
that only a few I personally know 
understand 
when one leaves a blank bed 
in an even blanker and sterilized room 
into the every racing game of life. 

Sometimes I forget that I am still 
in a physical form 
because I feel like my presence 
is just of a specter 
that haunts the graveyard memories 
of others. 

I see things 
and hear things
and I wonder if I'm the first thing they think
because it was something that my passions would grab. 

But it seems like its all own their own 
and I'm just left for dead. 
And its an awful feeling 
because I know that feeling all to well. 

I have all this light around in the distant 
calls that tell me the good things 
but the distance leaves it 
to be tarnished by the tempest 
and distorts the feeling 
into yet another memory
a Sunday memory 
that to me 
was the ultimate disrespect
and maybe that explains why 
those that matter to me 
find someone so easily 
because I'm a faulty expense 
and exchanges should be made
before I break down
and forever pass 
into the past tensions
of that phantom memory.  

I Wonder....

I Wonder....

if all the power that is in my shadow 
would still poison me 
the way it does 
as I fall asleep into silence 
if 
and only if
I knew the whole story 
from start to finish. 
But I think 
no matter how much I tell myself 
I'm okay with not knowing 
the insanity of always questioning 
and seeking answers to those that are unanswerable 
will continue to inspire 
and haunt me 
for the rest of my life. 

*The Not Poem About My Life

*The Not Poem About My Life 

I'm twenty two years old 
and so far I've had only twenty two lines. 
I was born smiling 
I grew up fine 
I seen the many faces of humanity  
and I made friends with some of the worst and best of them. 
I have walked on the Earth 
and seen the greatest of sights
from Mt. Fuji to the origins of humanity. 
I have been wandering and wandering 
finding love and happiness 
as well as despair and grief 
with the fading of childhood
and the reality of the horror 
that such an active imagination 
and love for all people 
to write, to sing, to dance, to create 
can do as I am an inventor of out-of-body angels 
and the father of internal nightmares that want nothing better than my eternal silence.
I sit on the never ending quest for balance 
between starlight and blackholes 
unknowing of where line twenty two will end......

To be Happy....

To be Happy.... 

.....one realizes that the definition 
is only a chimerical one.

For sadly 
I only seem 
in these days 
to have doses of it as the sun is out 
but its when I wish for sweet dreams
I only get the phantom pains
of thoughts that only bury me deeper 
in a restless dark. 

I know there is light out there still 
I just hope I haven't fallen so far 
that I can't find it again. 

Auto-Pilot

Auto-Pilot 

means that one is 
go blank 
so he can stay in control. 

Not feeling anything 
to the point that 
you forget that 
you need to feel your way 
in the dark 
and not crash. 

Stepping Stone

Stepping Stone 

As the laughter of youthful children 
echo in an otherwise empty
place of play 
I jump from space to space 
like stepping stones 
in a game where you can't cross
unless you 
are blue. 

And this innocent act 
allowed my auto-pilot 
to encounter more haunting specters
that my anxiety 
and depression 
that god awful silence that stains 
my memory 
where it took not just the story 
that recently unfolded
but all of them 
from that damn cat, 
to the one that brought balance
to the impossible girl that brought me down from the cloud. 
Even the one that I spent a year with 
and the one that turned on me when it was she 
that was the key that unlocked the true monsters
that were lurking in the darker places of my soul. 

It makes me question 
am I simply a stepping stone? 
As I hold someone close, 
I fail to realize how weak my foundations truly are 
and the pressure of feeling underfoot 
as I see that my own world, 
my world of storms 
simply propels people away 
into greener pastures. 

Its not like there is any time for me to recover 
its the same story every time, 
as I am a sinking ship 
trying to stay afloat in a ocean that is unforgiving 
of my adventurous spirit
as I see the people that I viewed as a crew 
leave

There are some that stay
but I fear they will drown 
if I don't figure a way to keep afloat. 

Sometimes I wonder if that is my true purpose? 
To simply be the stepping stone for people who were in a bad place
and I help them find better places 
while I stay stuck in the limbo 
of the worst that a soul can sink 
and the best that a soul can bloom 

Haunted

Haunted

It is in this witching hour 
between the twilight of this reality
and the vast void that I would call
"the land of dreams" 
where my brain 
that is so active in its rumblings in the day 
draws a blank 
and smothers all thoughts
 feelings 
and desire 
all in the name of a good night's rest 
from a wild imagination 
that is my burden 
and blessing. 

But I get haunted by the memories 
from days long past 
of conversations that I captured 
to give me strength. 

Now they have turn to heavy chains 
pulling me down 
as the feelings that I have been so easily replaced 
yet again by someone 
who was right there 
at the right time 
to protect you 
from my madness 
and disdain. 

Now it is I 
who wished to keep your promises 
when really it was your promise to me
on a note I saved 
while I was out working in the garden 
tending to clearing the vines
that wrapped tightly around 
my heart. 

Holidays gone past 
and its my fault. 
This thing that is in me 
is a cold fire 
as I can never feel warm 
but all I can see 
is the burn marks 
from the inferno that only I seem to create. 

Tumble

Tumble

My soul is like a little tumbleweed 
rolling along a long 
and winding road 
full of ash of memories long gone 
and embers of the ones that still burn. 

Tumble tumble 
down the way 
tumble tumble 

My soul like a little tumble weed 
rolling along 
with thorny branches shielding 
the most hollow of centers. 

An Untitled Poem

An Untitled Poem 

....sometimes I think it would be easier just to write one again. 

but I know if I do.......

....it will be a slippery slope 

and I wish not to fall to the bottom........

.....all over again.......

....simply because there is still so much to do

and the kettle isn't even on........

Rage from A Name

Rage From a Name 

Rage rage rage
all from a name 
that I've known for all 
my young life. 

Never would I dream 
that this name 
once a sign of the truest 
and purest form of friendship 
even kinship 
would make me so angry
at the mere mention of it 
on a screen or even writing it. 

This name 
that I will not mention 
for it will be forever entombed
in this rage 
as a meer memory 
represents 
the turning point 
when I realized that I 
as much as I didn't want to 
move on from a place
that I no longer desired
but keenly looked forward 
to returning. 

Not for her, 
but for you. 

Now I turn and run 
because you have burned me 
out of my home 
knowing that your growing passion 
for someone that was my "yes" 
is now in your grace. 

But are you really like that?
Do you really want to put someone like her 
over a friendship like ours? 
Do I not matter to you? 
Did Time Square mean nothing? 
Did forever a friend just mean when it was convenient? 

I was there for you 
when you didn't need me 
but I was always there for you. 
In the cold wind of a the first of probably many 
lonely and frigid holidays
where my own personal demons 
leave me fiery coals in the efforts 
to burn my own confidence down 
you turn tail 
because you can't deal? 

A friend sticks with a friend 
no matter how bad it can get. 
Even when the friend turns feral. 
You are no exception 
for I listen to nights 
where you scared me 
with your own self-loathing 
and the pain that I knew in the long scheme of things 
didn't matter 
but they were important to you
so I respected it. 

Now when I need you most 
when I need my best friend the most 
you turn because you can't face 
that I will remind you
that you chose her 
over me 
despite knowing that I loved her. 
That she and I had silver ties 
promising that my return would mean so much more. 

You know how I feel 
but distance makes it easier 
to ignore.
To make me this phantom 
that appears unreachable. 

That is not the case. 
You have all forms to call
to message
to make sure that 
I'm all okay. 

I want to call you the worse of names
condemn you to the lowest forms 
of respect 
due to your pathetic reasons
and the most unmanly of gestures 
as you pursue someone on the grave our friendship. 

I've been fighting. 
I want your friendship. 
It means the world to me 
but you disregard my feelings
because you want her that badly. 

Then fine. 
I'll stop fighting. 
Just know if you make the choice with her 
that I will take it 
that Time Square was another one of your lies 
and that all that was ahead of us
may never come 
because you are willing 
to bury us 
under the hope you might not be lonely. 

When you were never really alone. 
You always had me. 
Wasn't that enough? 

To paraphrase 
as the night creeps to end the first day 
of a new and hopeful lunar year

There is rage 
rage

growing 
in the light of your name
and burns away 
the memory of mine. 

Anxiety

Anxiety 

Fearing the calm between tempests 
because you think its a lie 
and that the storms are already raging 
because your mind whispers the thunder 
and your heart gets pierced by lighting. 

Missing Cog

Missing Cog 

Sometimes his words 
comes back into my head 
when I talk to you 
or anyone else. 

That I'm wrong
and he's right. 

That I am pretty monstrous 
and maybe I should stop looking 
for people to talk to 
because in the end
I could just end up hurting them. 

I hate how he makes me feel like 
I can't talk to you
because everything I do 
makes me feel like I'm hurting you 
and proving his point 
that I'm a monster. 

Monster 
Monster 
Monster with the missing cog. 

I take a breath and try and think of the positives 
to some 
I am a monster
but not in the fearful term 
I'm just different 
and misunderstood. 

Its easy to call someone a "monster" 
when they don't know the story 
behind the beast with the missing cog. 

What that missing cog is? 

I don't know. 

For all I know, I have it 
and they are the ones that are missing it. 

But at the same time
who knows. 

I guess of late
I fear that I'm being remembered more for my wrongs
than the rights that I try to do 
in the name of friendship and love. 

Maybe I'm no better than a man 
who raises a fist 
in the name of God. 

The Knot of a Grin

The Knot of a Grin 

It slipped in again
that tug of the neck 
as I wore my green tie
in my palace of childish learning.

She didn't know 
she just found a new game 
as she liked to pull on it 
unknowing of the drug 
she was dripping into my blood. 

It was funny 
because ironically 
I started to view that whole 
"faulty wiring" 
as a child itself. 

Is that why it likes to give it a tug 
now again
because its funny 
despite me saying "no"? 

No harm was done 
and I just went into auto-pilot 
for despite her tugging 
she reminds me why 
I get up 
and teach her and her friends. 

Because every day 
I go to that place 
no matter what mood I am in 
and the children of generations 
don't see me for what I have done 
but what I can do 
in bringing joy into the world. 

Wanna Know the Reason

Wanna Know the Reason 

In my time of understanding that I will forever be casted
as that wandering yet hopeless romantic 
the tragic character who sees a world so grand and beautiful 
and in my wake
I try and share the beauty with the select few 
that make me see a sunset 
only too seem their soul 
dance the aura of a twilight glow. 

Many of them 
don't deserve the love. 
They can be callous 
and selfish. 

They worry about the strangest things; 
money 
what will their friends think 
what about work tomorrow

They think of all these things that 
are better left dealt 
for tomorrow. 

They also understand that I 
do play the hopeless romantic 
and sometimes suffocate at the purity of affections 
I give to them. 

But do you wanna know the truth of it 
most of the time
they drive me crazy. 

Their emotions seem pointless at times
where it is easy to see that anger 
fear
and choosing the easier route 
makes things complicated. 

It drives me up the wall. 
Sometimes I want to give up
or give in 
or just leave them without a word 
and return to the world of the road that I know 
oh so sadly well 

But do you wanna know the reason 
why that despite the pain 
the misery
the almost some could call 
torture
of being in love with those that I have fallen so head over heels for? 

Its because at the end of the day 
when all is said and done 
when the last candle flickers into the shadows of night 
and no more words 
can hurt either of us
despite them dwelling like a circulating current 
of reminding of what is said, 

My hands still reach out for them 
for her 
they still reach out 
under the covers 
because regardless of what is said or done 
I still love you 
and my most blissful sleeps 
will always be next to you. 

New York Sound

New York Sound 

I do oddly miss that New York Sound 
of yellow cabs going too fast 
of pedestrians voicing their concerns 
in what some would say the most 
elegant manners. 

I miss those hot sweaty summer sidewalks 
and the crisp cold air of Central Park. 

I miss how the wind would blow through 
the steel constructs
of mankind's dream 
of reaching the heavens. 

I miss the odd shops 
and the food joints that you call your own. 
The comforts of living in compact places
and coming back to a flat 
where your eyes would wait. 

I miss the chatter of the subway 
and the ballads of the tracks against the wheels
as those trying to make it big 
collect dollars and dimes 
for their evening meals. 

I miss the culture of the arts 
and how it was always on display. 

Manhattan was an island of day delights
and evening sins. 

And oddly enough
I think that New York Sound 
makes me view it as kind of a home.  

At Last, Little One

At Last, Little One 

Last night 
I talked to a stranger 
and she 
with her wisdom recognized 
why I get so scared 
why fear and anger 
creates the monsters 
that I thought dwelled in the darkness of the closet 
or clawing from 
under the bed. 

My anxiety 
the depression that blooms from it 
I finally think 
I know what its true face is. 

Its not some monster 
an abyssal nightmare 
with fangs drenched 
in the blood of 
my mistakes 
the wrong doings 
the things that I told myself 
to never look back on. 

This thing
this thing I've carried all my life 
unknowing of what it was 
and only recently accepting it 
only surprised me more 
that its not an "it"

This creature that muddles my brain
makes me fear others 
is nothing more 
than me. But not the current me. 
Not the man that I am becoming.

I've spent so much time 
trying to evolve 
trying to become the best I could ever be 
and the pressure of what the world outside the nest 
can provide for me.

I forgot to understand that my mental disorder 
is nothing more 
than an imprint 
of me 
when I was young 
and on my own for the first time. 

That child of days long past 
and he fears still the demons 
that lurk in the shadows of my choices. 

Oh that little one 
with the brown eyes still new to the world 
so much love he has still 
but how he doesn't want to lose it. 

How he cries at the death of a monster 
and cheers at the birth of one. 

I just can't believe 
that its taken me this long to see it 
despite how I travelled to the other side 
of our big giant planet 
with a blanket of the jungle 
and a stuffed and worn tyrannosaur 
that I have had since that time. 

I am sorry 
that I ignored who you truly were 
and I  understand that you are scared. 
I'm scared too. 
There is a lot ahead of us little one
but I'm glad that I can now try and help you. 
You inspired me to be what I wanted to do 
but I never realized that  you were still there 
and I left you alone 
all alone 
in a memory of a house that is no longer there 
with the shelter of that green carpet  
and the toys that have now aged beyond play. 

I know this isn't how you thought it would be
when we would finally be an "adult". 
You wonder where the woman we love is 
where the cool house is 
where the dreams we shared under a starry sky in Texas 
of who we would be. 

I feel that you are disappointed in me
and I know I strayed off the path 
that we thought I would never leave. 
I don't know if you will ever forgive me, 
Little One 
but I don't fear you 
and I understand your pain. 

I mistook you for a beast 
because when I was your age 
we couldn't talk 
in anything but the call of the wilds. 
Its okay 
I'm right here for you.
I'm not that strong of a man yet 
and I get pressured in the world of offices and relationships 
every time I get out of bed. 

I just want you to know 
that I love you 
because without you 
I would never be me. 

We will be okay. 
We really really will little one. 

If  you need to cry, 
cry. 
If you need to scream, 
scream. 

I can handle it. You are me and I am you. 
I am going to do my best 
because its no longer about me. 
This isn't my life anymore. 
Its ours. 

The house that we grew up in 
is gone. 
That field is a concrete parking lot. 
Our dogs, the furry companions that protected us 
are now ashes to the winds of our memories. 
That Godzilla, the one we so desperately hide from view
because we were drawn to it 
like a moth unknowing of what a flame would be 
is probably a recycled bottle. 
That land that we once viewed as "home" 
is now just a more urbanized Houston. 

The second home, is now equally foreign 
with friendships now more memory then reality 
and that moment of "Yes" still floats around 
Station 17 on that cold December night 
where her smile will forever be the clearest memory. 
The sandbox is gone and the monsters that were lost in it 
are plastic fossils that may never see the light of day again. 

I know
Little One 
its weird what time and change can do 
to those memories of happiness and joy. 
I can feel you in my chest 
that you don't understand 
but Little One, 
I barely do. 

But I know one thing, 
you don't have to be scared 
and if you are
its okay. 

I will protect you from them 
you
and myself. 

Little One 
its time to 
smile. 

At last, 
Little One 

Its time to smile. 

Porcelain Tears

Porcelain Tears

I can't believe 

As you enjoy the warm air 

And cheap booze 

I sit here on a porcelain throne 

Away from young eyes 

To cry this empty tears 

For the years now lost 

To us. 

I was fine 

But your name 

Sickens me. 

She did nothing wrong 

Her actions are human. 

It's yours

Knowing this would happen

Knowing you would hurt me like this

Thinking that a kiss or two from her 

Would be worth it

Because I anxiously said it was okay 

Even though you were the one that talked to me out of it 

And not three days later 

Knowing I still loved her 

Did it

Because I am so far. 

"It's easier," you said. 

Easier? How is leaving me 

Knowing you would hurt me 

Knowing I am hurt 

Knowing that you are with her 

And at least your happy 

And she is okay. 

How is that easier 

That someone who grew up with you 

Is sitting on a porcelain throne 

Crying empty tears

For now empty years. 

Not Fair

Not Fair 

What hurts the most 
is the fact that 
I'm the one 
that needs to stop talking
when it was you 
that did the act. 

I know it takes two to tango 
but in the long run
I'm the one 
that feels like I'm hurt


I'm the one that feels like the monster
that did some unknown act that is worse 
than yours. 

And I hate that I can't talk to her 
because I make her sad 
while you 
come in like some valiant knight
and make her smile. 

Thats what I was doing 
that was what I was meant to do. 
I mean
I loss a friendship with you 
because you couldn't 
stop talking either? 

Did you not value the days of christmas tree battering rams 
late nights in a galaxy far, far, away 
beers in Time Square 
and beach walks by moonlight 
talking about the worlds that 
were far beyond our unknown 

And I feel bad 
that I miss her 
just talking to me. 

Its not fair that you two 
can run and ignore what is done
while I sit here 
still new to the world 
with nothing to really think 
can hold me up 
in the realms of what a "friend" is.

I just hate that all of this 
showed two faces. 
One I wan't surprised to find in her, 
a person who is pained with loving 
and is trying her best 
to be a "good person" 
in world where that is harder to do 
than saying. 

While I see your face now 
that cocky grin 
that hides 
the arrogance and selfishness 
that you think 
that world is constantly against you 
and that you should take nothing for granted. 

If it makes you happy, 
bugger what other people feel. 
You are addicted 
to the pain that you say you don't crave 
and because of it
you lost a friend
and aided 
in breaking two hearts. 

Its just simply not fair 
that I have to the be the man who remembers 
and you are forcing me to be the man 
who wants to so desperately forget. 

1:30 AM

1:30 AM 

In-between yawns and nonexistent dreams 
its now I realize how serious I was 
that I'm not going to try and communicate with you 
it feels wrong
especially since he's probably already making plans 
to hang out with you 
now that I'm out of the picture 

Its in these final moments
as another yawn
like a breeze 
blows a few more words onto the page. 

I still feel hallow 
not as hallow as before 
but its lonely down and far away in here. 

I guess 
if I had to make a wish 
that I wouldn't be the one to make it so 
to hear a knock on my door 
and there is you 
or her 
standing there smiling 
and the hug that follows 
would put me to sleep. 

I just 
as needy as it sounds 
want to know the feeling again 
that I am truly missed. 

I know I am 
but the cool touch 
that warms the stale heart 
assures me 
that its all alright. 

What Comes Down Must Eventually Find a Way Up

What Comes Down Must Eventually Find A Way Up 

Amazing
how much has changed
in almost a month. 

I went from thinking I had the one 
to realizing that I wasn't ready
and neither was she. 

I went to thinking I had the best friend 
in the whole reality
to see that he makes choices 
for his own benefit 
to hid from pain. 

I'm jealous
of those who aren't like. 
Like the many I know 
who are my so called 
"Warning Label People" 

We struggle everyday
and when we trip 
boy, 
do we fall hard. 

A lot of us, kind of get stuck 
either falling forever
or land and believe 
that our spine is broken 
and don't bother to change. 

Me, 
I've got a lot of fight still in me right now. 
Or at least I still believe I do 
despite the heavy chains
that tie to the ones 
that pull me down 
and make me feel 
like the monster I know
I can truly be. 

The weight can be unbearable as 
I am akin to Prometheus 
to be forever chained as 
the vultures of anxiety 
pick away my flesh 
cawing at the black feathered memories
of pain 
loss
and hate. 

I'm not perfect 
and granted I have my scares 
that riddle me below the skin 
I still move 
and climb up that jagged cliff face. 

I can smell a breeze at the top 
and I sometimes see glimpses of her
of them 
the world that only can be born 
with the hands of a stronger
and wiser man 
than the being that I am now, 
a being currently clawing its way out of the past 
and into his future. 

But as I notice that the once jagged cliff
is starting to bloom in the sun 
I think of her 
and that one 
and this one 
and those eyes 
and smiles 
that I have been graced to see 
and I know that I am loved. 

As the vultures come down 
to peck away what they can 
I lift that one hand from the face
and I move on up 
little by little. 

Not to much longer I say 
because my life 
is in sight 
and I'm not going to let you 
pull my heavy chains 
down to you levels. 

The Words of My Father's Sword

The Words of My Father's Sword

I can't believe 
that you did this. 
Even Brutus,
a man who saw blood spill on marble senate floors, 
would shiver at your selfish reasonings of why
why you had to be the one 
to plunge the blade deep. 

Sitting in silence
my father's burly words 
echo in my ears 
and help let absent tears 
fall across my face 
and to the tune 
of the heart beat reveille
to honor a fallen time in the now present past. 
"Trust is a double edged sword, my son" 
"Without proper balance, my son" 
"You will cut yourself and others
leaving a wound that will never fully heal"  

Alright

Alright 

Okay. 

Alright. 

Fine. 

I get it. I get it. 
I understand the whys 
because her passing joke 
became my anxious obsession. 
That anxiety fed your confusion 
and set up a fragile trigger 
that when fired 
would shoot a hole through someone. 
A pity it was me. 

We were all at fault 
but at least she and I 
have been there for each other
even when its hard on 
the conflicting emotions 
of finding our balance. 

I have noticed that I don't tell her about my feelings 
I haven't said that word to her as much 
as I used to. 
I still feel it, but its not the fuel to this fire. 
For from our convos, 
the tinders have snapped and this rage
this boiling and fiery rage 
is focused on you. 

You have chosen to simply wash your hands 
and leave me be. 
You fear me? 
Why? 
Because I nearly relapsed? 
Because of you? 
Never. 

Because of her? 
No way. She would kill me.

I teetered on revisiting
that old wound 
because I am in a hornet's nest 
buzzing and stinging 
with sudden change. 

I mean, 
understand that I don't care 
about the love I once had. 
Its not what I need. 

I need a friend 
and she understands that. 

You fail at it sir
because I am still grasping at the idea 
that it was you? 
You put at risk all our time together
all the adventures
from Time Square to Reddrum Root Beers
all of that 
is now just a fond memory 
because you chose 
a kiss or two 
over a friendship that has lasted 
as long as we've lived. 

You are not the man 
that I once knew. 

Its sad that this is how the friendship 
will crumble 
because you "can't deal." 
When everyone else seems to be doing better
than what you
my so called....best friend 
can. 

Maybe it will come again 
but with your attitude 
of defending that I am the real villain 
in this story...
a monster? The dragon to your St. George? 

Then it never will. Because you choose to 
slay our friendship 
with your own arrogance.  

The Alien

*this is not a poem 

She honestly still couldn’t believe it was still there. That hulking mass was still in her room as it hummed the tunes to songs that captured the beauty of humanity. It was fascinated with the music and videos that the internet provided of the creative spirit of humanity. Occasionally, it would see something that would show the worst of humanity and it would look at her with those alien eyes that spoke without saying any words, even though she could hear it. The simplest of questions, “Why?” 

She would only answer a painful look at the creature, knowing full well that humanity, despite its wonder of beauty and things beyond the scope of reality; we are a selfish and terrible race. A group of creatures where belief allows death of our own kind and difference allows a hatred that is unknown to the rest of evolutionary reality. 

So the creature sits there as her heart beats for it, knowing that in its quest for self discovery. She is falling for it. Not because its this simple creature who is learning what it means to be a human, because its trying to be more than that simple and mundane concept. 

Glass

Glass 

I sit here 
with a bottle that is nearly empty 
but a glass that is once again full 
simply because you left 
and I try and keep the joy 
of that presence 
knowing that you know 
there 

Its been a while 
and there are only a few I 
view as "worth it" 

Seriously, 
I woo easily 
but there are only a few people on this planet 
in my timeline alone 
that make me feel the way 
that you make me feel 

I hate it

Because I work so hard to try and balance 
the feelings 
of wanting to be your friend 
and being something more 

Which leads me to think of the one 
that is now in the eye of my best friend
who wants to be friend 
but I can't right now 
because the wound still bleeds 
and the only way it will heal 
is with his friendship
but he has made his choice
thinking that because of this distance 
makes is obvious
that he would selfish choose you. 

And then its you 
the first I even thought that far
with that smile 
that makes me way to happy 
after all this time 
and the odd hope that I should expect 
that you come with too much luggage 
at my door for a while 

And then there is the damn cat 
who sometimes just wanders into my thoughts
because of mutual friends 
thinking when all is said and done
we'll always be fore each other

But then again 
there is so much rage
and pain 
that only the liquid of brief relief 
can hold back 

but luckily
the mistress of sleep 
and dreams 
coaxes me to familiar sheets
and warm blankets 
to make me forget 
that this was frankly
all a dream 
with ups and downs 
and tomorrow is again full of possible realities. 
  

That Damn Cat

That Damn Cat 

I met you like most strays 
at the set of the sun 
and straight on into the night. 
Just this grinning kitten 
that for some odd reason 
seemed much older than it was. 
You purred and played 
till you outgrew the milk 
and went for stronger stuff. 

You would sometimes wander back 
into the homes that I dwell 
and its always a good time 
seeing you 
and those eyes of yours. 

But sometimes I rub you the wrong way 
and you hiss and bite 
going back to the night 
where you so thrive. 

Its funny to see 
after all these years 
how you've gone home to home 
and frankly 
done your own thing 
in the elegance that you always seem to land on your feet. 

You are that damned cat 
a creature that I feel I will always leave something out for 
because maybe one day you will somehow just wander back in 
just to disappear again into the night when the fire goes low. 

Tremor Triggers

Tremor Triggers 

The worst thing 
about these chemicals 
that bathes in the shadows that 
are casted by the light 
of a smile 

Is that they like to send tremors 
triggering emotional responses 
and thoughts
that you just know aren't good. 

They go after the smallest details 
that will send shivers down your spine 
and make you feel like 
that despite the good things 
plots are turning on unseen wheels 
to bring you down 
to the hell that you sadly believe
you belong

In this modern day of connectives 
where a name can simply pop up on a corner of your feed
it can disturb someone how you can go out of the way 
and ignore people 
and know that you are being ignored. 

And then the triggers keep going like quakes 
leading up to something much bigger 
but unlike a tremor 
you can fight back 
against the earthquake that you can feel 
rattling up your spine. 

Just remember sometimes you just have to 
let it go 
amongst the breeze 
as memories dance among the poppies 
leave your dreams 
and quell the shivers 
that a chapter is ending 
much quicker than you thought it was. 

As the page turns 
tears will snowflake on those final pages 
and hopefully 
the inked words that are being written 
will wash away 
and you will never truly know 
how it ends

Despite the fact I can smell smoke 
as I unknowingly burn the pages that 
will make me feel closer 
to you