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My heart’s a wild wounded bird
Free and untamable, but hurt
One can hold it and try to fix it even
But never call it yours, better start believin’

When exposed to nature’s smell
If only a scent, if only a hint of a silent yell
Gone birdie is
Never to return, forever his

But you can take me for now
Put me in your loving cage so nice and warm
Confuse me with your charm
Still I keep thinking about my bough

Nature found me first
And within him I found my nature
My bird’s been cursed
There’s little sadder but nothing greater

I once belonged there
And I honestly always will
Forever free as a bird in the air
Longing for a happily ever after still

But you may fix my wings and my broken feather
Help me through this stormy weather
You can cuddle me from a safe distance
Know I will show you firm resistance

And when eventually my nature calls out to me
Wants to put me back in his musical tree
Cuddle me warm in his shaky branches
There will no longer be any chances

So you can have me for now
For this one brief moment I will bow
But one day he will sing to me
And in his branches, that’s where I’ll be
Because it’s the only way I know how to be free

feelings that lie without reference
beneath an expressionless face ,
unidentified and vagrant in a netherworld,
an emptiness that once held a story of fanciful flight,
landing in the disintigration of it's height,
once bursting at the seams with vibrance and light,
now, it's song sung, the story told,
the flame dies, the illumination grows cold,
and time stands by, undaunted by it's eviction,
in observance of the dimming presence,
although, no affliction,
a pithy moment in time
ends in apathetic ambiguity,
and time moves on,

cackling in it's obscurity.

3:16 AM 5/12/2013 ©

Worthless

Is what I am.

No matter how I try to deny it.

I feel nothing.

I see nothing.

I am nothing.

Do not try to argue

for it is the truth.

I am Worthless.

Empty

Is what I am

No matter what I try to say.

I feel nothing.

I see nothing.
I am nothing.

Do not try to argue

for it is the truth.

I am Empty.

Carefree

Is what you see.

Someone who oozes content

You see my smile

You see my mask

You see a lie.

But I do not correct you

because I know you would leave

If you knew the truth

Happiness

Is what you see.

An emotion that I don't often feel

You see my smile

You see my mask

You see a lie.

But I do not correct you

because I know you would leave

If you know the truth.

Acceptance

Is what I want

Despite how depressed I may seem.

I want to change

I want to be different

I want to feel.... needed

But I don't dare ask

because I fear you may say no

That I am asking too much.

Love

Is what I want.

To feel as though someone cares

I want to change

I want to be different

I want to feel.... needed

But I don't dare ask

because I fear you may say no

That I am asking too much.

I'd love to write a poem of hate right now,
But hate only brings the same,
I'd love to tear the walls down,
And paint everything black,
My soul is crying out with rage
Like an animalistic scavenger,
Seeking the blood to tear the guts
From the bellies of demons who created this disaster.

And inner peace speaks softly
All the while beyond this fury,
I cry not only for the anger,
But I cry because of this beauty,
A spark that's lived within the thrawls
And clutches of such untold deceit,
I'm weak as a lamb and fall down in mercy
...and bow to love's defeat.

7:45 PM 4/17/2013 ©

You're a tricky one,

Miss Cat.

But I think I'm in love.

Since I have memory my mother has always used earrings. In the city, in the beach, at work and even at home. I don’t mean the same earrings every day, but different ones. Let me explain. My mother has always been a really simple lady, she has always work, studied and taken care of the family; that´s why she doesn’t have much time for herself. She doesn’t wear necklaces and jut occasionally she wears bracelets, of course that is in regular basis. She never buys too expensive accessories like purses or so, but she always wears earrings. She likes earrings of all different colors and shapes. Sometimes she may lose them, sometimes one and sometimes both but when that happens she likes to simply mix them. She likes mixing her earrings because most of the people doesn’t pay much attention to it, so she really appreciates it when someone notices it and ask her why she does this, she likes it especially if its family or friends who asks her. I think that is because she loves to know we pay enough attention to the small details referring to her and I feel this may also be traduced as how much we love and respect her. I find this a really unique characteristic of my mother because she isn´t a vain person, but she is always good looking and I think this small detail really describes how mother is. In few words she is a simple, good looking person who loves little details from the ones she love. She has always been a really strong woman and I really admire her. That’s why every time I see earrings I think of my mother, I always like to choose her feminine earrings, earrings that represent her, beautiful, natural and strong. I believe flowers and rocks of different colors make her stand out and that can be wear with any kid of clothes and in any situation. That’s why most of the gives we get her are earrings; we like to buy them different but a little similar so that she can mix them latter without many problems. Sometimes we even buy her funny earrings like food shaped earrings. She also have different earrings for different seasons, the seasons she likes the most and of which she has more sets of earrings are Halloween and Christmas. I like that my mother do this kind of things because it makes me realize how important small things are even if we take some time to realize this. This is how much my mother earrings represent to me.

“Just another suicide letter”

I woke today to see the forced smiles on the pale faces of all others,

So many have just gave up, gave in and no longer satisfied by their desires.

Stuck on repeat, stuck on a loop, they are simply following routine

a failure at everything, so they gave up on ever obtaining their dream.

“If you happen to read this letter,

know that my life has not gotten any better.

I have danced with and even entertained

those thoughts that would make me seem deranged.

Let this letter be a glimpse into my soul,

part of the puzzle you just might not know.”

Dead babies displayed before the press, the piranhas on the move.

With open assassinations, might as well turn in my resignation for in the end we all lose.

Often I feel as though I should be asleep, this nightmare in its own right.

Somehow took the wrong cocktail. Lost my sight with no reason left to fight.

'Tomorrow will be a new day.” Yes that sounds like something I would say

and while I respect the laws of infinite possibilities, turns out its just another day.

How can I survive in a society more fucked than I?

Your stupidity, and your insanity compels me to want to die.

I have grown lost, now trapped behind this illusion you managed to conjure.

Each step taking me further from the path. Each step you taunt me with a cure.

The answer to a simple question, now foaming at the mouth its become an obsession.

Dancing with death, I can't help but count every single regret.

It all becomes a fading memory that I can now do without, just another dream that died

and before its creation ever transpired another broken promise where I had lied.

For the most part I do not even want this as an answer,

'still searching for what little beauty is to be had in this infectious cancer.'

Little by little, more and more I find myself drifting away.

“This is just another suicide letter,

just know my life is not getting any better.

A coward who hides behind a vice.

A coward who is afraid to do what is right.”

The heavens rain down blood, as I ask myself what is it I've done.

What has become of me? Now just a shell of a man, hallow and numb.

What sick freakshow did I spawn from?

Where I find myself dwelling on the act, 'a bullet in the brain'?

Thoughts of suicide, yes they never left.

Asphyxiation by self perversion is it not the same?

“Ashes to ashes, as we all find our way back

this twisted fate, strapped to the devil's rack.

You had your chance to turn back.

A door best left closed, it is a deadly trap.”

I'm not sure
what it is
that I'm feeling.

I don't know what
words would describe
this feeling,
that I'm feeling.

I wish I could

be alone for a while,
so I could be able to think.

Think and maybe recognize

what I'm feeling.

Maybe then I'd be
able to relax.

I want to understand
this feeling,
and get it under control.

This feeling.... this feeling...
what is this feeling I'm feeling?

This feeling... 

It’s little or nothing
Whattendstohappen
When I see you
When you kiss me
When you touch me
Whenyoufuckme

But
Not in the way
Thatyouthink

Yes
All the things are real
Themoaningsandthegroanings
Well
At least most of them

So don’t stop
But don’t think it’s going any further.