abazzams

ANYTHING by Chuck Palahniuk. He's written "Fight Club," "Survivor" and countless other amazing books that should be read by anyone and everyone."House of Leaves" by Mark Z. Danielewski. Its the most creative, abstract piece of literature I've come across to date.Those are good starts. There are so many books out there that are just amazing though.

I've actually never considered getting them published, they've always just kind of sat around with me. All over my room. I guess I should look into it.As far as haikus go, I'm not that big of a fan of form unless I'm playing on it with the words, as e. e. cummings used to. I could whip a few out really quickly probably, but I've never really wanted to since it didn't come naturally.

I actually never played any of the Unreal Tournament games... I'm a Half Life guy, including TFC, CS, etc. I was also into Tribes for a short time, its a pity the company that made that game went out of business. Apparently it was from warez and stuff.Either way, maybe I'll check this out.

Wouldn't it matter what mood you were in? Even genres have sub-genres... intelligent comedy, slapstick, satire, dark comedy, etc.Some of my favorites are Fight Club, The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Kill Bill 1 & 2, etc.I also like Scarface, Edward Scissorhands. I don't know... it depends on my mood. O... Donnie Darko also. So many good movies.

Thanks! I have a lot more but haven't really transferred them to the comp yet. I don't really think that much with a lot of them, they just tend to be representative of very adamant feelings I held at the time. Sometimes I'll go back over them and do something special with them to make it more poetic, in a sense, but for the most part thats all raw.

Its not a blanket statement. It doesn't apply to every case. On the one hand, theres the case you just put forth (which, by the way, is a case of the burdens of society, ie debt, murder).That being said, I wasn't saying that suicidals should be praised for their bravery. I AM saying, however, that a person commits suicide when they decide that it is what is best for them to do. I do NOT think a person should be considered weak for killing themselves.I had a friend who shot himself in the head, and his father came to home to find it. He called the police, and started trying to clean everything up, obviously in tears the entire time. Finally it became too much for him and he picked up the same gun and shot himself in the head. Now his wife is without a child or husband and shes the most on edge person I know.I think it unfair to judge the father for his actions; if I came home to that I would probably do the same thing. His "bravery" or more importantly, "decisiveness" comes in the fact that by committing suicide he is directly hurting his wife and extended family. But he obviously preferred that to living for the rest of his life with the pain.You can't judge suicidals because life is a personal experience. Just because you wouldn't kill yourself in a situation doesn't mean it wouldn't be appropriate for anyone to ever kill themselves in that same situation.

"Bush has better moral values than Kerry"Morals are a matter of opinion and interpretation, therefore the term "better" cannot be used in conjunction with something that is abstract and up to a person's own decision. The correct way to phrase that would have been that Bush won because his morals and values are more popular than Kerry's, or at least with the voting percentage of Americans (which is roughly half.)As far as religion being a movement to foster up money, thats just kind of silly. The doctrine of any religion is free. Its the person themselves that choose to donate money, buy books, religious ornaments, etc. I have books in Christianity, Judaism, Kabballism, Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, and countless other religions that I got free by going to their place of worship and simply asking. Yes, there are people out there that try to put price tags on divinity, but the same goes with everything else in this world; its not just religion that charges for admission. And for the record, Trystim, your argument about burning in hell for killing someone is flawed. The basis of Christianity is that, not only are all sins equal (thus lying is equal to killing) but that if you accept Christ as your personal savior you are forgiven for all sins.That being said, I have one major opposition to most of Christianity/Judaism/Islam; the basis of the beginning. I think a person has to doubt the story thats put forth. If God were perfect and infallible, and he created the world and Adam and Eve in his image, why did they turn away from him? "Free Will" a person would say. However, I think it unfair for God to turn around and blame humanity for the flaw that he included in their design by sentencing them to hell if they didn't ask forgiveness for the imperfection THAT HE CREATED IN THEM. The entire concept is almost one big universal guilt trip; God creates people, people sin, God blames people for sinning. Shouldn't the creater be held accountable for imperfections in the creation?Just my own personal meditations on this.

"Ocean Avenue." Reminds me of the summer driving around with my friends. That song is such a cliche high school senior year song, but it fits for a reason.

I've always considered Suicide more of murder by life. A person only wants to die if it hurts them to live. No one just wants to die to see what its like. Really, the pressures put on the average person from society, whether it be monetary, emotional, intellectual or other, all of these factors play into the reasons why a person would consider it a waste of their time to continue living. Its just like being at a party surrounded by people you dislike; at some point a person just decides they don't like the world that surrounds them and gives up.I think if we stopped having such outrageous expectations on people in this world things would be better. Unfortunately, that won't ever happen. That being said, I can totally understand why a person would kill themselves. It takes a lot of balls to do it; I would go so far as to say the bravest people in this world are the ones who aren't here anymore.

Hello all, As mentioned in the poetry thread, I'm working on a book thats nearing completion. I've already gotten some interest from some publishers which is pretty cool. Here is an excerpt that is essentially from the first chapter. The book is about a bunch of different themes, namely the pressures put on society by society itself, suicide as murder by life, etc. ?I want you to see this the way I see it. Crimson red, dark shadows, curves and spins leading to green snares of regret and hopelessness and flirtations with destiny, lying there on a cold, white, unforgiving, and yet comfortingly consistent concrete bed of a doorstep. The perfect picture of something that everyone recognizes but never really sees for what it is. I think part of me knows that she will love them and giggle the way we always want them to. Something about giving gifts caters to the deepest part of your soul, even though sometimes giving is the most selfish thing one could possibly do. Her eyes will light up, and for a fraction of a second nothing and no one else will exist except for the world that worships her. A queen, a princess, the rise and fall of an empire before she can blink. Those little pockets of pure joy that seem to appear every once and a while and remind you that you?re alive and beautiful, and then suddenly vanish into the background again. We live for those moments in life that barely exist and disappear so quickly that we can only remember them, the times that fill us so rapidly and so fully that we don?t recognized its happened until we overflow. The question of whether or not to leave a name always presents itself. The fear, of course, is that if left without a label, a bastard bouquet will be adopted by some unknowing suitor in her mind, most likely someone other than me. Someone somewhere will become Prince Charming, the blind, deaf and dumb inheritor of a kingdom that I?ve dreamt of for so long. Unfortunately, my greatest fear has always been that if I sign my soul to these flowers, suddenly her surprise may become a burden, a responsibility, the undertow catching her feet and pulling her under. The bouquet becomes an unwanted gesture, a mistake, destined for a vase without water behind a curtain. The child claimed by a father and suddenly unwanted by a mother. So I settle for notes, handwritten, signed with a whisper of identity. Words and phrases that struggle so desperately to put on paper what surrounds and drowns me daily. Enough to clarify who it isn?t and let her imagine who it is. Maybe initials, maybe a self-serving description, maybe just a word of closure like ?Sincerely? or ?Yours? or even ?Love.? It takes so much to describe how you feel without revealing yourself in this world, and we do it every day. We ask for things without exposing how deep our desire is, and society has the answers for the questions we?re afraid to ask; fast food restaurants are a method of denial, a way of feeding our hunger so we aren?t forced to crawl and prey and attack to quench one of our most primal desires. We cry and pine to the people we love and hold close but never reveal the things that keep us shivering and sobbing at night, the things that we feel in the deepest parts of our souls. All anyone ever really wants is someone else to connect with, somebody to erase all the things that weigh us down and keep us from looking up. But then we make the mistake of presenting ourselves on golden plates with diamond insets and silk napkins, deceptions intended to further distract from who we really are. The worst heartbreak you ever feel is the day you realize that you?ve been lying to yourself. But until that day comes, you pretend its not there, like writing a letter but avoiding signing it. Walking down these steps is tragic in its own way. Every day, I approach the door, telling myself that somehow or another the skies will fall, the door will swing open, and I will be forced to describe the sun, moon, and stars to her, and how they all pale in comparison to the effect her mere presence has on me. She spins, jumps, sways, or otherwise simply runs into my arms and begins to perform the dream that I?ve had written for so long. Of course, I know its not going to happen. So do you. So does she, I think. Fate, destiny, a master plan, all of those irrefutable pathways through life we?re taught in our earliest moments, they whisper and demand and scream in my ear at all the wrong moments. I want so badly for this to be meant, to be ordained so I can chase it and make it true. But instead I?m building my hopes on a foundation made to collapse. Walking down these steps reminds me how truly fruitless all of this is. And yet, here I am.?

I'll just add a few more... sorry but I figured I might as well throw them all up since they are a bunch of different forms and styles and some people prefer certain styles (i.e. freeform, iambic pentameter) to others.*Asleep*What if those who surrounded youWere blind, deaf, and dumbAnd thought that they were truly feelingWhen you know that they're numb?Imagine living in a worldWith everyone asleepAnd no one stirs from dreamingBecause their daze is deep.While everyone is lost, but thinkThey truly are aware,You watch as people run in circlesAnd see the masks they wear.What if you lived inside my headAnd saw the world I keep?You'd probably laugh, and walk away,And go right back to sleep.*In Waiting For A Sunrise*In waiting for a sunriseI see the sky alight.The promise of a burning powerStill away from sight.The birds begin to flutterAnd the dew begins to shine,All signs that light will make its wayPast sycamore and pine.A cloud once blocking a starry nightNow brightens the coming day.Souls stir and minds awakeWhile still their bodies lay.And yet the sun must clumb its pathacross the barren skyEvery time the moon gives upAnd stars choose not to fly.Although one knows the sun will burnIn all certainty,The worry grows in wary mindsIt might, one day, not be.In waiting for a sunrise,One thought still gives me fear;I won't know until tomorrowIf it is actually there.*Greener Grass*A garden exists, so far and away, A garden that conquers night and day.Separate from rules of God and man,It redefines what gardens have been.I used to visit it, time to timeUntil the garden was no longer mine.Stones I threw, for days, unawareThat this garden already had it's share.And so, defeated, I left my EdenIgnorant to patience I lacked within.Storms have passed since I left this place,Clouds have parted, and the light now hits my face.I see the garden, distantly thereAnd realize now that I truly do care.The roses will breathe in freshly cleaned Earth.The plants will know the amount they're worth.But now, another man is minding this space.Yes, while I was gone, he took my place.He tends the roses like I once did,He listens to the grass, and does as it bids.So now I wait for a time when its free-When the garden can finally be tended by me.This garden that exists so far and awayWill comfort my night and justify my day.*Orchid Among Roses*How pitiful it is to be an orchid among roses.Truly-Flower you may be. But sadly, one supposes;The roses prick you with their thorns, and soon you start to wilt.Instead of being a unique orchid, you are the roses' silt.*Walk Away*Possibly my footprints will show you what could beBut I can't retrace anything for you.How pathetic it seems, my dedicated lie.Thats you. All You.These pictures do nothing but scream, This phone does nothing at all.My pen cries, my tears dry,and my thoughts have formed, as confusing as before.The idea of thinking twice never occured until now.Searching for the words never was harderAnd crying has never been so deep in vain.And now the promise I wear todayDoes nothing but lie and mockingly say"Everyhing you want to believe about what may be trueWill do nothing but lie, cheat, and then simplyWalk away from you."*The First Three Seconds*And everything is spinning now.Tumbling out of a tangle of tattered dreamsAnd tainted thingsThe cloud my mind rests on appears.A splash of cotton, a tickle of feathersLures me from a wedding scene.The light that is present in everyone's eyesDrags me from light that shines in my mind.And for a second, Her loving gazeWhich promises a life of daysFixing fences and tousling hairIs suddenly, for a second, there.The world is still a place to hidefrom the pain in people's minds.But as the ever-present light grows brighterThe fences start to fade.And reality rushes back to life.The first three seconds are never enough.*Everything Minus You*Is it love that makes my mindTie your stare to the mountainside?Take your smile and spread it outas far as my eyes can seeAnd call it by "Horizon?"What challengs my handsto find a surfaceThat doesn't make me missYour surface?Why is every space empty,Simply because it isn't filled by you?What about my heartacheTook everything I knewAnd transformed it intoEverything minus you? *Pulse*I would live on your lips- Peaceful, without forced entry or tone-And slide across your tongueLike liquid steel.I would pulse through your veinsAnd live in your heart,Complimenting the beat withall my impassioned thoughts.I would give you goosebumps, Give your mind thrills,Trickle, crawl, slither down your backand cover you with chills.My presence within youwould bring you to your knees-But am I your lover,Or your disease?*Angel's Tango*Allow me this moment to put my wings aside-This halo's luster is not yet to be witnessed.How petty, these matters of love and confusionthat I am forced to endure, now.You... you are only human-imperfect, defined by what you are not.In this tango we have been forced into,I lead, and you dance-unaware thatI was born to fly on wings,Dance upon the clouds, And spend my days on golden streets.I am not one of you, nor can I become you.But you have but a chance-Become an angel with me-Find your wings, take these.Please, join me in the clouds!Its easy to be let in!Just take this dagger to the heartTo enter into heaven!*A Star Resembles an "X"*you... love... you...love...you...I have no distraction...No, only your picture by my bed.I have no motivation...Only the reasons flying in my head.Others love you love others love you, But others see only smiles see only others... its so true.It can be covered, Embellished, continued, and... relished.Pain is so useful!Charting my path from the phone to my tearswas not on my agenda today.If I cry for some reason, I still have so much to say...But yet... one more time...Some things are worth the wait...And I'm still waiting.*The Fall*Following a trail of criss-crossing insecurities(through a forest of memories I fall)Pale faces stare out, frail hands grab and pull,as I make my way through.As quietly as they left, my fears return,and I stare, stare aheadin the face of my pain.Wisps of hurt and drops of hateBegin to surround my helpless form.I cry, so loud, desiring someonebut no one can come inside.And I feel it return... I feel it come back.And my heart begins to cry.So I fall deeper into the holeI've dug inside my soul.No face to talk to.No hand to grasp.Falling deeper, with no way out...Drowning in drops of pain...As the fear subsidesI see you there...Wondering aloud if you are my comfort, or my end.*Reflections*I watched your eyes close, so slowly,so sweetly.I watched them close from fear.And I saw myself fall away...Your eyes hold that vague secret,that hole...Opening your mind, revealing your soul.And I tumble, so far...Farther down.But you closed your eyes...And hid me away.Tears cascade down your face-A drop for a memory,Forced out.And I waited at the bottom,to catche each... for you...But you closed your eyes...And hid me away.And so I saw myself fall away, Gripping, grasping, looking to heal you.Shut out, closed out, I watchedas my reflection disappeared.And I still don't know whyI see myself in your eyes.

*Here, Between Parentheses*Days start and stop,Periods and Capitals,With nothing but our feelings remaining.But here, between parentheses,Time crumbles to a snail's slowest pace.I am caught in the touchOf your hair on my face,Your skin on my hand,Your taste in my mouth.Here, nothing is what I want it to be.There, your world is spiraling.Our fortress, though strong, rests on a crumbling islandUnder attack by waves and fault lines.Our technicolor night dissolvesTo a black-and-white reality.But worry for our island is not needed;Our fortress needs nothing but you and I.The best way to beat the waves and fault linesIs to take my hand, so we can take flight.Our hearts are above the worldThat strives so hard to end us.But we can separate ourselves;We can be "we."As this sentence ends, we will no longer need words.*A Second Before 10:17*The tip of my hair,Criss-crossing my face,Over my occupied lips,Falling, Twisting, Flying To your skin,Snaking between your shoulders,Crawling down your spine,Dissolving into you.How profound, my envy for this bead of sweat.*Revelation*My emotions are painfulAnd patience I lack;But sometimes, true loveMeans holding "me" back.*Explosions in the Sky*Teetering, tottering toddlers burningOn piles of bodiesConvicted of lies.Hidden killers spreading, infecting, Burning, melting,Murdering innocents and children.Shock and Awe, Shocking and Aweing A family enrapturedBy explosions in the sky.Tyranny, hatred, evilInfecting the souls of billions.And yet, I cryAnd pine and dieOver a silent phone.*You Are*You areRipping and TearingAnd Killing and BurningAnd Twisting and BitingAnd Kicking and ScratchingAnd Slashing and StabbingAnd Breakingmy heart.And I hate you for it.*Words*These words mean nothing compared to the mountainsThat they wish they could move.And they stir nothing but tears and fearsIn me, far from the smiles and changes they beg from you.These words only take up conscious space;No land, no air, no feelings.They travel through your ears and eyes, And try to do their work while you sleep,Placing me in murky dreamsWith rain changed to rainbows,Clouds turned to stars.These words fail, as mountains and clouds and you remain unchanged.And now, these words weep with me.*Indescribable Words*Snarling, biting, pullingAgainst its tether.Salivating, aching, gnawingFor freedom, indiscretion, suffrage.All its weight pushingAgainst all that stands in front of it.Weeping, laughing, indescribable wordsFiltered through a mask of a smile.This is my desire for you.*Isn't*The most painful partAbout emptiness and absenceIs that something that once was, Suddenly now isn't.*Daily Dying in Her Flowers*He hates her everytime she says "Now now,"Blaming this behavior on things like age.He is wrong, but she never tells him so.She never got to a nunnerySince he just took it back, married her,And wrote it all off as a bad year.Now she spends her time gardening, Dying daily in her flowers,Jealous of their seeds and their growth.Most of the time he is gone,Busy with problems he willTalk about solving, but won't.Sometimes she cries, but sheLearned long ago that tearsNever cleanse anything.She has no father,She has no brother,She has no self-worth.Only her mind,Wrapped up in theHopes of her past.When she sleeps,She won't dream,But won't care.And nowShe weepsAt herLife'sClosedDoor.*Yours*I'd sail to the moon,Capturing stars,Steal Saturn's ringsAnd other divine things,Place them on cloudsAnd fly them downOn feathers from angels.I'd wrap them with rainbow,A touch of sunset,And place it all in the palm of yourDelicateHand.This gift would be nothing compared to youAnd yourWorld.But it waits patiently stillFor you to smile,Take it,And exhale.

More....*Ice Angel*The snow has overcome you;You are numb to me.My words cannot warm you,My actions you can't see.I beg and plead and pull you,Denying what I know.Instead of choosing love and warmth,You have chosen the snow.Until you return, I sleep.Until you return, I sleep.I lay down by your frozen formAnd hold your broken feet.I try to melt this with my tearsBut struggle without heat.I know this will not ever work;But hope is now my vice.So I close my eyes, and pull you close,Enveloped in the ice.*Everything You Say You Don't Know*There was a moment in eternityWhere we stirred poetryIn each other.Where words poured outIn a hurried attemptTo record the world inside our hearts.There was a moment where we were one-The cloth we were sewn fromWas threaded, again, as a blanket of warmth and safety.There was a momentWhere pleasure and pain blurred,And we simplyFelttogether.Those moments unraveled.You chose time instead of forever.You chose silence and punctuationInstead of words, feelings, expression.You tore the cloth and burned its thread.You chose to be numb.So no longer will my words describe you.My poetry ends now-Take your unfeeling, simple, calm lifeThat speaks so lowly of tears and words andHeavenly cloth and sincerity,Take it and die with it.Because time and silence and fire and numbness all die-They are limited by minutes and degrees and death,And end as expression and words and eternity watch.Die with all of this.I may watch from heaven, holding the halo that would have been yours.*Response*Your soul was dead?No wonder it tasted like *BLEEP*.Thats the last time I trust a cadaver.*Butterflies*I see your struggle to keep your prideEven though I'm watching from the outside.I've heard your tears and know your heartAlthough we still are far apart.I've seen the gaping hole in your chestI know why you're now such a mess.I've seen it there, I've heard your cries,I saw all the dead butterflies.But you didn't kill them; it was him.He took them down, and bathed them in sin.You let them sit, as time went on.Still, you butterflies remain too far gone.Your hole is unhealed, your heart now shakesAt the thought of life being one big heartbreak.After all this time, you still have not triedTo revive all the dead butterflies.But I now see the future in sight;I want to help put them back in flight.Our kisses will straighten their tainted wings;Our wings will shelter them from painful things.My love for you will last all our lives,And I will bring back your butterflies.This one is my favorite...This morning I awoke with a startFresh from a nightOf turbulence, tossing, turning,Tears and trials colliding,Raw and afraid.My eyes fought for a lack of exposure,Afraid to open to what they figured to be moreOfless.But eventually will kicked in,And forced them at ease, openingTimidly.Not a rush of air,Nor an attack of light,Or any other trojan disguised and readyFound its way towards me;Only calm.Frantic and Panicked, ILeapt from my bed,Proceeded to wash away what I knew would beMore of the same lies.But the water trickled dowm,Erasing yesterdayAnd only whispering today.I knew this;I'd seen it before,So I quickly got dressed(I can't let my guard down.)But things were stillcalm.quiet.ok.I demanded a stay of my silence,Trying to drown out what were more promisesFrom nature, telling me to smile.My anger grew,Resentment towards the light that mocked my dark,Fear of the birds that broke my solace,Disgust at the light breeze that wrapped its cool arms around me.Finally IbrokeRUNNING/SteppingDownstairsto confront this spectre,This liar.I was ready to throw these things back at its face,Expecting glaring sunlight,Overwhelming heat,The drone of buses,Everything to upset me furtherAnd show me that Mother Nature was just another lying Magdalena.I turned ran stumbled and ripped open the doorand then nothing.Nothing yet.And then, something.A chill, only slight, but comfortingWind brushing through my hair, around my face,Cooling and calming me.A choir of birds above,Talking or laughing or whispering whatever it is that theyTalk or laugh or whisper about,Melding with the wind to make the sound of peace(If peace makes a noise.)The sunlight peeked through the treetops,approaching me with care and understanding,hoping I would step into it and accept it for what it was;Light, life, hope.And I cry now that I think about it,Because nightmares and loneliness and painful silenceAll had their place for such a long time.But nature, within the space between a leaf departing from a tree and meeting with the ground,Erased all of my scarsAnd reminded me of how beautiful things can be.Suddenly, immediately,But not noticably,Everything that had torn at me beforeVanished from my mind.I sat down,Layed down on the grass that welcomed me,And listened the orchestra of the world around me.There is no reason to hurtWhen there is so much beauty around us,Inside us,Ahead of us.And this wind, now,Helps me breathe.

These are a small sample of a lot of things I have written over a long period of time. I actually may have a book published soon that has some of this poetry as part of it. Anyway, I'll post more if people like it.*Vapors*Vapors all thats left.Overcast skies, swirling dust,Dry riverbeds, cracked soil.What lies in those cracks,The scars of earth,The caterpillar's canyons?Did the water trade goodbyesWith the rocksBefore it decided to leave them?*Untitled*Gone.Is that what I am?Is that what this is?Have I been erased?My burdens matter notTo those who have no burdens;I watch myself vanishAs no one hears my cries.The echoes of my tearsShatter my glass form,Because no one is willing to catchThe tears that aren't theirs.You all wait.You all wait and watch and askAnd call your queries "care."You steal what hope I have leftAnd leave me to vanish in my pain.I wish I could stay,But when I disappearAll that will be leftWill be my burden of lackAnd your lack of burden.And now I am gone.*Weather*Today was weather to die to.The clouds swallowed us whole,Pouring their worries down onA weeping earth.She couldn't sympathize, andThrew them onto pavement shoulders,Mixing them with her ownRocky guilts and muddied pressures.This river of broken hopes swirledDown through concrete objectionsAnd collected at the bottomOf a valley-Earth's broken heart,A shattered piece of her soul.I watched this pool, knowingOnly hurt.The sun turned his back,Leaving the darkness to have its way.Today was weather to die to.*Alright*You were and you are:Worlds away from one another.Your energy is now changing:Shifting, darkening, distancing.Memories are only intangible "yous"And the ever-present presents clouds to my remembered sky.The entire process of closing a doorIs a memoryWhen walking away.And...At times it hurts when realizingToday's tomorrows will be tomorrow's yesterdays,And none of itIsyet.But rightnowI am walking away...And nowis alright.*Tragic*I'm still searching for the beginning of this,And what's tragic is that I won't find it until I reach the end.It's an odd friend, tragedy,One that follows you,Urging you to beware,Hurry, Watch Out, Continue bravely, threatening to reveal itself(Or something like that).But today is just one of those daysThat begins with a breath and ends with a sigh, without cause or risk.... That would have been a good beginning.But I've reached the end.How tragic.*Courting*In the process of searching for a mirror,One finds a lake.Reflective but full of itself.One may come across a knife,Shining the world off itselfBut existing only to separate, cut, tear.I recall a picture frame as well,Giving the slightest conveyance of meBut preoccupied with the past.And then there was a shard,Reflecting me perfectly, but smallAnd only a broken piece of what it once was.And if I find my prize,Will she reflect my relief,Or my weariness?*Moment*Sometimes I shiverAt the realization that I marry in a glance,Propose in a breath,And court in a sigh.It hurts to think my passion isOverbearing, Overused, Overstated,Overeverything.I wonder at times if my method of loveIs a tactic better left for anUncompromising marksman.But my greatest worry is thatThis entire time that I've married, propsed, courtedSo many unwitting others,Is that they have already separated me in a cough,Divorced me in a step,Forgotten me in a stare.Loneliness is so much more profoundWith the knowledge that lives are changed and souls are separated,All within the eternity of a moment.*Letting Go*One time she asked"Is it 'I don't want to feel this world around me?'"And I had to say no;She thought it would sound betterThat wayAnyway.And I remember beingSadImpressed(Confused?)At her ability to make the most upsettingOf words the most comfortingOf thoughts.And I feel more comfortedMissing herThan the words may appear.*Hurricanes and Hearts*Today I sawAn oakUprooted, uplifted, upheavedBy the breeze.And I realized the promiseLife gives us;Tress grow and reach their heights,Spread their roots and plant firmly in earth,And for what?A breeze reminds me of what I can't place a name on.That somethingThat everyone feels, knows about,Warns about,But succumbs to anyway.And lives just swayLike oaks in a breeze.*To You, Finally*I will embrace my hate for youOnly so much longer,Until I can feel some sort ofCompassion again (?)And I will growAnd you will knowThe mistakes you've madeHave killed you.And this will end, and so willthat,And this and that will notCome back,But I will be living and youWill be dyingKnowing I, too, at one point,wasCrying.But you killed my reasonsforhaving tearsAnd it tears me now that Ithink about it;He won't comfort you,because I am(?) your comfort.And you will not sleep, andYou will not dream.You are fighting a war againstSpirits,Spirits that will find you.Karma and Destiny and Fate,All are ready and waiting.I'm hanging off the side of this,Waiting to fall,And wondering whyYou don't care at all.

1) A Perfect Circle - 3 Libras2) Tool - Pushit3) Dredg - Same Ol' Road4) The Mars Volta - Take The Viel, Cerpin Taxt5) Radiohead - Paranoid AndroidThats all for now.