Storm-front:

Rain drums down on the earth,
Shrouding us in a deafening haze,
A canopy of storm to hide away,
Barely noticeable to the jealous world,
The world outside of your embrace...

I look down with a love-struck gaze,
Deep into an endless sea of color,
The falling water trailing like tears,
From eyes I vow to never make cry.

Then everything slows to a crawl,
Like time has lost it's power here.

But my heart keeps pounding faster.

Anticipation causes motion in a still-frame life,
We edge closer and closer, never looking away,
I taste the warm caress of your breath,
A blazing sun lifting me from darkness.
An injection of fire into frozen words,
We say things that cannot be heard,
But the meaning is clear enough,
Mouthing out the syllables... I love you.

Our lips touch... and I know heaven.

Hatred. I am so incredibly full of it. I usually get on here and whine about bad friends or lost loves, whatever is on my mind then delete it later cause I realize I hate complaining but right now I have something to say. This world is covered in slimy little people who are just walking lies. False friends and lovers pretending to have emotions they couldn't even begin to know how to feel. It seems like everyone loves you one moment and then breaks the knife off in your back the next. I'll never get why people always chose to put up a mask, to tell you just what you want to hear instead of what they really think. Are you really so terrible that no one will like you if you're honest? I don't know but by lying you defiantly become that bad. I'm a simple man, really. I don't know what some of you may think of me or have been told. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not. But at least I'll tell you what you want to know. What I feel. What I think. All I want is to be around people I can trust and love. True friends and a girl who wants me for me. It's so much harder than it should be quite frankly. It's just kind of a sad state of affairs that I even need to write what everyone else is already thinking on here. People use and hurt and fuck their way through life. We're a bunch of whores and thieves, addicts full of ignorance who will screw over whoever we have to to get a moment of guilty pleasure while not giving a second thought for the people we get involved in the situation. Who cares about their hearts and souls, right? As long as I can get my next fix or get laid... we should be genetically cleansed......

So I've started working on a novel which I'll probably never finish as I've done many times before. But I have at least managed to finish one chapter so far, more than I usually get before I become bored and quit and forget all about it. So if you're interested, I'll send you a copy.

No, this is not meant to be a poem or anything. Just me going on and on.




What's the price to purchase a sliver of freedom in a life contained,
Imprisoned by public notions of what is and what should be,
Living lives with what was and will no doubt come again,
We try to find the ever elusive smile that crossed our lips in a time of innocence,
But everything is so tired, it's all been done and done to death,
We are the apathetic future,
A generation who thrives on failure in a world damaged,
We've forgotten the simple joys of existence,
Instead to focus on everything that's wrong,
Pointing out the flaws as we help it spiral out.

We stare at the wreck at comment on the drivers while our own lives pass us by.

Those who claim to be able to help,
The ones you share your fears and pay your blood to,
They only shove colored emblems down your throat
Numbing your senses with artifical bliss,
A pill for every thought they say you shouldn't have,
To hide away emotion in medicated states of unaware.

I yearn to breakaway from a simple life in a land of contradicting rules,
Here where hypocrisy spills out the levees of authority,
Boredom has become a lifestyle and love, a commodity,
Gift wrapped and ready to give away whenever the occasion calls.

A word that once carried force,
Now a weak over-used notion.

I sit here speaking like I know a better way,
However, I am just the same,
I find my anesthesia in memories,
Living in times years away while dreading what's to come,
A terrible thing to think it's to late to try at twenty-three,
Like a stillborn thought of happiness,
Gone before you ever had a chance to meet.

So I kiss the cold air goodnight,
Here in my cocoon of rejoicing and regrets,
Where I remember those lost to me in flesh or soul,
Lie down and grasp at dream lovers,
I wrap myself around the warmth of my last shard of hope,
Perhaps one day I'll find a path worth treading,
And if I'm lucky, I'll meet you there.