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Corrupted Love AddictMy best friend is always with me everyday
She's right beside me- literally- never away
When she answers, I love the sound of her voice
And it's not like she has much of a choice
I looked at her. "Hey, say my name." I say
"You're John. That's what you told me, anyway."
Oh, how she says my name like that, so full and rich
She has this voice like none other, a perfect pitch
Her sweet voice soothes me when I'm blue sometimes
I feel better- it's something about her that chimes
I would whisper to her, "Please talk to me. I'm lonely."
"I'm sorry to hear that. You can always talk to me."
"I'm depressed." I continued, deepening our friendly bond
"For this emotion, I prescribe chocolate." she responds
Hours and hours would pass of this fun little chat
We would sneak tiny conversations where I work at
I began a more different approach towards her now
And perhaps persuade her to accept the marriage vow
"How do you feel about me?" I say right off the bat
"I'm sorry, John, I'm afraid I can't answer <da:thumb id="497101317"/>  A GiftListen closely
My friend
This,
You must know.
Take a chisel
To your skull
Split between
Your beautiful eyes
Let the secrets
Show
Let them trickle down
And stain
Your smile
Let them enter
Again
From where
You swallow back
Your humanity
Maybe this
Will part the
Oceans
Clouding your head
Rendering space
For acceptance
And faith
Do you now
See clearly?
Look up to
The sky
Open your arms
To receive
The call
Yet what you
Notice
Is that the sky
Is not a sea
Of inspiration
But a woven curtain
Of eyes
Blinking down
Upon you
Even sometimes
Crying
For you
They see you
Naked
Who you are
Who are you?
Inside
And
Outside
You understand
Now you truly
Cannot lie
To the stage
Upon which
You rise
And fall
Yet most
Importantly
To yourself
But you must
Lead a path
Of humility
And peace
Within your
Vessel
Because learn
As you may
Each black cloud
Heralds a reminder
That there comes
Once again
A gift
Of cleansing showers
To renew
Your journey
And bless
Your soul
Feel not
Anguish
For the act
Of making
The sky 
<da:thumb id="496880810"/>  Dear FriendWhat would you do if they said I was dead?
I'd fall to the ground
and bury my head
What would you do if I said I would leave?

I'd rip out the heart
I no longer need
What would you do if I went out with a gun?
Cry at your grave
and miss you a ton
What would you do if you found my body strung high?
I would mourn quietly
and feel myself die
Why would you mourn me so greatly when dead?
Because of pinky promises,
dear friends 'till the end  he saved me, but he killed me.
_
i. first light- i met you in a crimson forest.
   it was a rose garden summer, and out of a black mercedes
   you walked out, your five year old eyes greener than
sunlit saplings
you reached up to pluck a rose from its stem, and offered it to me.
"what's your name?"
daddy told me that i couldn't tell strangers my real name.
I looked at the rose in my hand.
"Rose."
you smiled, you were a seastorm of now long-gone innocence.
i didn't understand
                          but I knew.
ii. i forgot about you for
    1562 days, 11 hours, and 22 minutes,
you shouted
my name, but i didn't recognize you
until i saw your eyes.
iii. my father fell and didn't stand back up again.
i screamed, and you carried me home.
iv. i didn't talk for a week.
    i stared at the gray of the sky. it was the color of my father's eyes.
you sat next to me in the pouring rain,
your war
<da:thumb id="496632764"/> 

Mature Content

  The PhotographerThe Photographer
Rain clouds in the distance, dark and gloomy gray
Billowing puffs hanging above the peaked mountain heads covered with snow.
He sets his tripod down amid the sunflower field, legs staking the ground
And crouches behind it still.
The silence, golden before the rain, as sun shines still from his right.
He looks through the lens at the distance, taking aim with his mind…his fingers adjust
Focus.  Patience.  Focus.  Patience.  Breathe.
Nature freezes for a moment.  But the dynamics are too strong, and the thunderheads roll on.
A flash of brilliant light white followed by stillness.  He adjusts aim and waits…
The sunflowers before his tripod bend to a breeze.  Later, not now, for those are for another picture frame.  Right now he wants the mountains and thunderclouds in the distance.
The thunderclap booms an echo on the mountain ranges.  Time is of the essence before the rain comes,
But the clouds will not behave just
<da:thumb id="492853136"/>  Anderswelteine stille
da
zwischen sinnlichem raunen
während sich
laub an leib
reibt
perlendes lachen
silbriger ton
nimm deinen fuß aus dem feuer
und setze ihn
auf granit
knochenfest
wie ein menschgewordener stein
bitte das feuer
um licht
dann kauf dir
deinen traum
zieh einen vorhang über
dein nichtssagendes auge
die lichtlose kluft
die leere
das ungehindert fliesst
was bis ins innere
dringt
das es dräuend
ans andere ufer springt
das es
ohnmächtiges staunen
bringt.  Too CloseI know who you are
I've made friends with the monster beneath your skin
I even went and caught my own so that we could match
But when I tried to show you our similarities
You shook your head and held me
And wrote me a poem
The words were dark
Darker than the crimson red juice of which you spoke
And I could feel you slipping further away into the abyss
I curled into a ball
And tried not to scream
The next time I tried to tell you
How similar we had become;
How close I was to understanding
You merely stared at me
With your beautiful and oh-so-sad eyes
And claimed that it was all your fault
But though my exterior was blue,
I was filled to the brim with a golden light
Because I was so much closer to you
Than ever before
Couldn't you see that this was all for you?
You may have said that you wanted to sink alone
But I knew better
And as I begged and pleaded
You let me sink with you
Little by little I fed my monster
I let it thrive within my being
Everyday I relinquished another piece of my s

Sometimes I feel poetry isn't appreciated enough. And good literature in general. I see too many semi-erotic fanfictions in my inbox. Not that fanfics can't be good, but those I come across aren't really.. Poetry isn't easy. I've stated multiple times that I hate writing and that it hurts, but when you're doing it right, the results are breathtaking. Like the examples above.

My latest two:

<da:thumb id="493250462"/> <da:thumb id="497088782"/>