Suit

I wear my pain like a suit

No longer will taste the fruit

Of the one that brings me hope

the one that helps me cope

im a coward, as I’ve already shown

But she’ll never feel the hurt that I’ve known

The guilt, like a cancer, eating away

Waking up to nightmares, day after day

No longer a starring role in my play

My bright morning skies have turned to gray

And there’s nothing I can do or say

To get her to understand the way

I keep my emotions at bay and pray

I’ve made my bed and now I must lay

Notice Me

I was walking in her shadow again

the way I always do

Her mouth like a 5am sky

It’s so hard not to stare

And when she looks me in the eye

It’s like she isn’t there

Her face so sweet, like an apple pie

But she doesn't care

She doesn't care

Her apathy, it crushes me

To the point of agony

Searching for the switch

To turn on the lights

To get out of this ditch

That keeps me up nights

Your smile and your style

Run down like the Nile

Through my blood veins

Leaving mud stains

Notice me, notice me

In Me.

She, whose smile sets me free

from all this misery,

and hurt,

in me.

She, whose face helps subside

the pains deep inside,

the veins,

in me.

She, whose eyes pierce through

all that is true,

finding the truth,

in me.

She, whose fingers control

the strings of my soul,

filling the hole,

in me.

She, whose hair’s sweet smell

helps quell the yells,

of demons,

in me.

She, whose lips sweet taste

help lay to waste,

the grief,

in me.

She, whose skin’s soft feel

helps to heal,

the wounds,

in me.

She, whose body on mine,

is so divine,

turns the water to wine,

in me.

She, whose voice in my ear

helps destroy all the fear,

and dread,

in me.

She, never again will I see

My love has made her flee,

now replaced with a void

in me.

Wishful

Jesus is wishful thinking

As my heart is sinking

Deeper into the abyss

Of a complete lack of bliss

As my mind wanders comfortably alone

Her apathy still chills me to the bone

like an indifferent feline

her purr so devine

like a fine white wine

and an ass so fine

Yearning for her

Yearning for her

I wait by love’s edge

so real and so pure

as she stands on the ledge

I see the moonlight in her eyes

Woofers

Ever since I began comprehending the world, I’ve felt like an outsider. I’ve always felt different from everyone I’ve ever been around. Example, just last night, my friends were having conversations about car stereos. I know nothing about car stereos. Frankly, i don’t give a shit. These kids talk about JL W6s and all these letters and numbers and woofers and what have you. Now let me say for the record, I love music. In fact, there's probably nothing I love more than really good music. But my stereos are not top of the line. You could probably call them “sucky.”

          But I listen to them and appreciate them more than any of my friends. They have no appreciation of music. They’re too busy listening for clarity and bass and crispness and whatever the fuck is it they’re listening for. Meanwhile, art and beauty and things that actually mean something in this materialistic world are passing them by. I mean, car stereos are just stuff... material possessions. While I like to have cool stuff too, it’s not my main topic of conversation 99% of the time. Things that concern me are existence, spirituality, cannabis culture, the future, the past, the present, psychology, and of course, music. I like to talk about my health, and how to improve myself and my state of mind. You can call me a hippie, or a neo-hippie, or a goddamn beatnik, or whatever the fuck you want, and the beauty is that I don’t care what you call me or what you think of me because I’m secure with my individuality.  I’m happy being whatever the hell it is I am at the moment; I don’t need your praise or approval.

I believe that I’m unique, odd, eccentric, what have you. Maybe it's because everyone around me is different. I’m sure the tides would turn if I went to Los Angeles or something, but here in Cleveland, Ohio, I’m a fucking rarity. Maybe it was my isolation in childhood due to being overweight and wanting to avoid ridicule... maybe it was the lack of a father. Maybe it was being on welfare, or being tortured in school, or my loss of faith, or my neurotic mother, or whatever. I could go on and on trying to find reasons for why I just never quite fit in but the fact is I am this way and I’m not gonna change and I don’t give a flying kahooty because I’m fuckin happy. Period.

I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. All I know is, I want to communicate my creative self to the world... I want to let them know how fucked up they are, and how fucked up I am. The things I’ve learned with drugs, and the things I’ve unlearned. The joy I’ve found in love, and the despair I’ve felt in betrayal. The realizations I’ve had about life, and the realizations that I still don’t know a goddamn thing.

So yes, I’ve walked the line between genius and insanity my whole life, and sometimes I can’t tell which side I’m on. I guess it’s a matter of perception. Whichever one I am, I have to go put on the facade of employment right now... until next time.

-b