Doth I Protest too much

Doth I protest too much? doth I address to much of whats left on a broken conscious and shattered heart that beats in broken pieces. doth i protect too much every secrets ive been dying to share every whispered words ive been trying to yell.and so ill always shed tears that you will never comprehend and make love to these fears that you will never try to bend or break me free from as deed done in dark light and blind light give birth to my silent pain tell as i write it all down, Doth I protest too much?Doth I love too much? Like obese doves bathing in obscene love, surviving on raw emotions. Love?? I think im a bit too immature for it, think im a bit too insecure for it or may a little too impure for it and as inpour these over flowing feeling into an imaginary heart heart tell me?Collaborating cleverly with these confined feelings I fear I've only been dangerously on the edge of loving love.

Freedom from unique

Unique in my ears sounds the same as outcast since the pain just outlast every word of deflection that came from those lips, came from lost tips of this ignored cerbral confession that left me with one question What is this heart used for?when will this pain do more then hurt and less then damage the memories of a space that was once meant for the heart? When words meant for heart break only fall on hollow spaces does this evolution of fornicated pain and progress elevate me to a god.Wise words to an inconcievable perception is only as useful as a picture of food to this starving thing I've become. I'm afraid to be alone but I'm too afraid to trust anyone. Tell me, someone what is this heart used for?  how is this art useful? to bring glory to a god just as lonely as me. My fears have become the only unique thing I see through shed tears and savage manuscripts ripped out of the lost depths of my soul.I want to fade into the background, I want to be dissolved by mediocrity and enveloped by meaninglessness. I want a chance at normalcy without the effects of complex thinking or being. Evaporate this ever so pointless me classified as unique and replace it with the common and mundane version of me because im too afraid of the truth locked within this "unique" destiny. Tell me, is there freedom from the unique?

new poem

I think im too self-conscious to speak on the stuff that keep weighing my conscious.And I fear that I'm too far removed to find a way to improve on my own lost art form. And my old soft heart still remains torn by the memories of lost yesterday's mistakes. Like scared hearts that take flight on the wings of Icarus,I watched as these lonely feelings melted on the roof of this callused world.I think im addicted to falling in love with heartless girls and this scared heart just curled in reflex to the pain of another superficial emotion. Renew, review and rescrew the lost knowlege of this unhinged mind binged in sublime lines that once defined the insecurities of this new born soul. Im afraid all i have are the conversations in my mind.I think I'm afraid of intimacy because of the inner me that i see.  Tell me, how is it  possible to feel this alone when alone is all I've learned to be.

new stuff

I've spent so much of my time confining my tears/ so many years spent dividing my fears/and every time i think about it all my heart disappears/Into the old poetry of  these lost yesteryears/and if i go in on these  lost verse's I'm afraid you would think i rehearsed it all./Now im here thinking about these old feelings and how i just repressed them/thinking bout old flames,and how I wish I could forget them/forgive me i just sinned, forget it ill just blend it all in/to this acoholic drink whose name i just forgot again/the memory's/ to tomorrow's pain/to this lost heart in the rain, looking to gain/ love in the rain/shit, im in love with pain/cause its the only real thing I've ever felt/before it all came crashing in/
to the memory's I can't help but mend/ or atleast try to/ find the depth i lost that was alot like floetry/ hoping that my flow tree grows to reach mars/ and drops three bars to remove each scar that i have had to endure/
lately i been on that spoken word shit/ tryina spit that invoking verb shit/ i got family members i aint on social terms with/i got some friends i cant imagine my life without/lookin for a spare life line/thinkin bout some of the one of a kinds I've met in my life time/and I'm only talkin bout the past ten years/holding on to every one of my insecurities/fearing they could reveal an impure me/and im just hoping that this pen and paper can cure me..

My attempt to flow

sittin here kickin old wisdom like my last name was aristotle./And this college life style's slow tell me where is the throttle/  avoiding any solution I find in a bottle /cause when its empty/ im left pen deep in this invisible ink shit./ staring at the bottom of this clean sink shit/ tell me where the hell did all these dirty tears fall from /oh here I go again pretending like could never release a tear/. then i let go, of these feelings ive never felt before /someone tell me where it all went wrong,/ cause i seem to forget every mistake that ive made/. Remembering every price i havent forgotten to pay/ tell how many more hours could be in this day/ wondering who's gonna be here to catch the bouquet/ and i just need someone here to tell me it'll be ok./ i guess im just lookin for someone to lie to my fears/Guess just trying to salvage these tears/hopin to make make rain on tomorrows flower/ this cosmic string is such a beautiful thing/ and this heart string never cease to sing/
Maybe if i could go back in time
change when i lost this mind
find all the peace inside
maybe then i can find that love thats so hard to find 
im just too lost in this cosmic rhyme

I am afraid

I am afraid , afraid that sometimes I feel too much. That while lost in the intensity of these feelings, I could be wrong. Diluted by the need to hold on to these intense feelings, I fear they can never really fill me. The passion is pointless and the pain is painted on empty eyelids that only reveal the pupil in me. I am afraid of the complexion of my own complexity, afraid of the complexity of my own complexion. Revealing a reflection of my own lost vanity, I questioned this sanity without hesitation. And only an uncertain fear that gripped my heart, the fear that there is something I should be afraid of. Here in this purgatory where wonderland and never-land collided, I found my philophobic nightmares waiting to embrace me. I am afraid of these feelings, to which the words to express them seem to escape me

Metaphorical false smile

If I can smile in pain, then can I write about love and peace when all I know is conflict and hate. If the rain never stops in my world can I write about sun rays and bright days. Watching this false smile drain down into these metaphorical lies tell me am I wrong, if it's what the people want. Tell me? What am i to do with these feelings that are too strong to accept, to ferious to withstand? on this journey through life i met a dandelion in search for a home, I met cast irons combs in search of the stone from which is created. I've watched as these metaphorical false smiles kill philosophical hearts that wonder in dark. What is wonderland if its dark? and when false smiles fade from jaded faces tell me?, what will comfort the pain

False Pretense

I've pretended to be things that i am not, pretended to be something and someone that i am not. so much so that i fear that its diluted my very experience of living, making it impossible for me to give any part of me not damaged by these false persona's. I've played this dangerous game in areas of my life to which i fear no recovery can ever be found. I fear that even in this fractured heart Ive created that even my own fear could just be another pretense.

there are things i wish i never knew, wish this human heart never desired or struggled screaming despartely in the dark for, wished this game never existed and althought i understand, categorize and analyze every sectioned off part of me i know the real me  seen its face and i know that i will alway be alone in that revelation. Maybe that just another lie i us tocope with the nature of my reality.

Lately i find myself whispering what could be deemed as sinister things to myself in an effort to queit this irritating need for human connection. Is it all to coop with the truth of my reality or am i simpl another diluted and polluted sould seeking clarity. Im beginning to understand that contact without connection is the same as sex without love, merely the prostitution of ones presence in oder to fill some void that cant even be reached.Maybe im just a whore of company in fear of the obvious loneliness while the subliminal torments me silently. Even this is all pretend....Nobodys gonna read this

Beyond human conditions

Tell me, what is this path that lies beyond the broken human condition sparked by mental ignition. Should I fall to depression at this soulful remission to my own headless confession.Beyond this human condition found useless expressions to an emotional me that could never reach a soul or touch a heart. To the edge of all feelings begins the end of all reason and now I'm wondering what will become these lonely emotions.

With nothing let but solitary commotion, these lifeless confession breed only heartless connections born in the dark. Looking for art, looking for parts to the jigsaw of this pictureless existence. We fight the resistance of all fertile things once thought to be futile we are left with this bent tile path and gold maps leading us beyond the human condition