Birthdays

I am nobody

mean nothing, love no one

I am nobody,

invisible, careless, hopeless

I am nobody

who wants to be a somebody

who loves and cares

I am nobody

who wants to be a somebody

and not just an invisible, unspoken of, shadow

Good Night

On a breezy day in May,

a boat heads to some exotic location.

A clock starts ticking in Asia,

children count days and hours.

Someone awaits you.

Adieu

Hunters Lane

[To] sort through old newspapers, enveloped letters,

[To] read a poem, or two, or six,

[To] pass by an airport, a bridge,

[To] wish for a different ending, somewhat divine,

[To] wake up looking for the rain

to love you; to be in love with you.

Falling, Yes, I Am Falling

Standing on top of a cliff,

Looking for answers.

Light on the bottom,

Then darkness of some night,

Why not fall,

let the body drown,

then float,

Reach new heights of stupidity and selfishness?

Idealism

Even if the coffee jar is empty,
Even if the luggage is packed and ready to go,
Even if the car is not in the garage,
Even if Sunday does not include football,
A man doesn’t just wake up in the morning feeling nothing whatsoever.
He might be in love though

Stereotypes

Pregnant women,
motionless embryos,
heineken and corona,

Trips to Amherst,
loud rock-n’-roll,
two unstable seconds,

Deaths of friends,
perhaps their cruel and
unforgettable ignorance,

Sirens and angels,
madness and blood,
wheels and pavements,

Skulls and sinners,
Saviors and addicts,

The wrong ones are not the ones to pay.

Winter

I love you that your swaying smile follows me around.
I love that you wear the gray sweater whenever
snow falls upon Autumn Dr.
I love that the house smells like fresh coffee in mornings
after long nights of thunder.
Loving you means constantly fighting the
entire world, I know that, and I don't mind,
because Seth,
I think I might have fallen for You.

Spring

When the weatherman announces a
tornado watch and trees start moving in
semi-circles, nearly fragile in your eyes,
When locked in a room for hours,
no windows, only chairs, calculators
and deep fried bananas,
The next best thing besides
Dying alone at the strike of summer,
Is seeing you again, because it has been
Way too long

I'm done writing

Poetry

Listening to your voice
cutting all edges of doubt
What have you done to me,
why would you hurt me again?

Pictures,
the only thing to rely on
when it comes to remembering
The Man who changed a life(time)

Keep doing what you do
make people fall for your art
that’s you occupation.
Take care though