My heart has cracks and scars around the center from where knifes were once plunged

I grip my pillow like friend to keep myself from coming undone

I watch memorys like movies still laughing at the funny bits

Still crying at the hard times, that made it so I knew how not to quit.

I found meaning in book pages and quotes by Phill Ochs

“Every bad thing has also happened to better men” I would remind myself between the rocks

Thrown at me by unknown assailants, some of them later became my friends

Some of them would haunt my mind the nights I would burn the candle at both ends.

I gotta keep on moving, so I write poetry just for me

Then I share it with everyone in case it helps them through honesty

So I will keep moving foreword, untill the man in the mirror

Is a man ruled by his heart. And never by his fear

Read me

Inside and outside.

Know my thesis as well as you know my cover.

To those who dont know me describe my font like only you know it;

To those who do, decypher the odd bits that they dont even understand.

Read me inbetween my stanzas,

Between the lines where even though im not saying anything directly.

You still understand me.

Let me be your author.

Read me.

5, 4, 3…

It was five, five before you would find your time had long run out at the end of the line, and with a rushed goodbye be wisked away with both of us wishing that you could stay.

Four, on the floor, as I searched once more, all my studio apartment, for your charging chord. To be the hero one last time; to see that awestruck look in your eyes, and make one last worry dissapear in time

Three, had to be, you and me and he, not allowed to get to close, but still wanting nothing but each others company. Sneaking hand holding in the back of the car, as we shot across distances, however far.

Two, me and you, black and blue, torn up from a day that hell had surely grew, but both of us knowing what yesterday knew. Just how to get through this, when it was just me and you

One. Second to none. A number infinately more than zero, but only by a small sum. The amount of days left together. We will spend it on the run. Or we’ll spend it in the sun. Thinking up all the things we should have done.

Zero, back to five, I wish you didnt have to go. But you’ll miss work and school, I know, I know… But I’ll still be tracing the outline of your silhouette, and I close my eyes as it grows quiet in my head. And I’ll dream of you, come on you stupid sheep. Five four three two one… Sleep.

Faith is the evidence of what is hoped for

And the proof of what is unseen

I learned that in bible school

But didnt believe it till I saw it in you

Now I’m caught in your arms

Dont let them let go of me please

I couldnt stand a mourning

Without me in your grasp

Cause I believe in you

Suddenly

Suddenly its one a.m.

I wake up in your arms again

The whole room is silent except the fan

And i know now,

I never want to leave again.

A fall

A tree in Autumn

Our names carved, fading

You; leaves. Colourful. Death

These painted walls

These painted walls

They hold my secrets in

The ones that I’ve been hiding

For to damn long

These painted walls

They hide my skeletons

They’re screaming in the night

What did I do so wrong?

My heart for the fall

My heart for the fall

Where familiarity lies,

Where everything is beautiful,

Before it dies.

Reminding me of

The love I once had,

Once a passionate red

Now rotted and clad.

With audiable reminders

In the streets all around,

The rustling of collors

A past waiting to be found.

So Ill reread your letters

And might burn them this time,

My heart for the fall,

Of what used to be mine.

Spiritual insomnia

When my body aches,

From all the days spent struggling,

I know that it all stems from insomnia.

The daily in and out of laying awake,

Not at night but at all times,

Not insomnia of the mind but of the soul.

I wish for a rest greater than my heart has ever known.

But to reach that day I must push on.

Writing poetry like spiritual coffee

Just gotta stay up a little longer