Of nothing and everything,

I want to tell myself the most wonderful of things.
The most magnificent of compliments.
I want to make myself happy about who I am.
And the person that I know, I am meant to be.

My friends all work around me like a hive of bees.
They are all so frantic, they are all so busy.

I swear to something above me.

I hope you crash and burn.

I hope you crumble and fall.

From your tower of father's abandonment.

I fucking hate you.

You disgusting coward.

Stand in front of me.

You'll meet your maker.

No chance to fall to your knees.

You're a failure, more than I could ever be.

To the few that still listen, and the many that ignore.

There is always something out there to hear.

Something to learn.

Something I am currently engaged with.

Someone that I am forever astounded by.

A sound that will always catch my ear.

A fever.

A fire.

Something that will still burn.

The sound of perfection, the sound of a field of melodies.

The touch of a warm beauty.

The thrill of an exciting exploration.

The exhaustion of effort.

Please do not discontinue to feel the way you do.

Because I never will.

This I promise you.

Because of the completeness you fill within me.

Think about it.

I am happy as a person.

You make me happier.

An enhancement to life.

You are a sound I never want to live without.

katie.

I once knew a girl named Katie.

Boy was she mighty beautiful.

I mean it.

She's the type of girl I would write a poem for, even if she never read it.

farewell.

If I joined our respected army to be a man...would you miss me?

If I fucked every other girl in town, metaphorically with proper usage of words...would you become jealous?

If you found another person willing to devote their life to you....wait, another person?

That's such fucking bullshit.

We fill the barrel as much as we possibly can.

Then,

together,

the fish get shot the fuck up.

Master of your game with a voice of pure sacrilege, I hope not to approach game over.

I want your mouth on mine, and I know you feel it too.

Not naive nor pathetic, but longing to win your frosted fucking soul.

the gears are grinding and I'm breaking down.

one screw loose, the others are all missing.

I still don't know why.

maybe when i'm dead.

ain't it obvious baby girl?

weeded out and stressed out was the poor young man. felt as old as the air in the sky, the height of the volcano's peak, as oldest as the deepest aquatic trench. through thick and through thin the Melvins pounded and smashed and thudded the drummers of his ears. in the door walks the lanky fellow friend. knowing the same delivered feeling from the same exact messenger. well, perhaps not exactly the same feeling. "a circumstantial difference was the problem," he spoke to a peer. "Nothing negative, just slow and painstaking circumstantial problems." nothing he could do but stay positive, seeing as how it made them both smile at each other. thee night went on and both were growing weary of the parading poet. together they cycled off into the lowly animated Orlando metropolis lights. awkwardly and drunkenly posed on the department store ninety nine dollar and ninety nine cent futon couches. "i'm not making any sense right now and I apologize for saying these things." "please just don't tell me your plans, i am going to leave now." after the brief cycle home, we exchanged our farewells in the form of a glue-bodied embrace. here comes the difficult part. the going away. oh so fucking tragic romance generic bullshit it seems. "I'm outta this place, and to do something awesome, and positive, for anyone around me. To anyone who can relate. I will be around like minded people with the same ambitions of progression and happiness. These aren't my plans, this is what will happen. Struggles here, there, and everywhere imaginable will tear us to shreds of fiber. Beat us sideways. Don't put faith in me. I'll be here though. Mean it." One of the best professors I ever had, Dr. Alexander, began his opening moments of class with a simple, but concisely profound question, "What is the good life?". Right now, at this very moment, my good life is splendid due to the fact the Dinosaur Jr. is my background muse. Dr. Alexander. Picture Cleveland, from Family guy, as a real, live human. The one difference being the baritone-romantic-wise-Barry White voice of the professor. This provided a difficult challenge in the class and required me to fight the "fuck school" nap due to the professor's monotonous lull. All irrelevant details excluded, the point is my path to seeking the good life. For me, it is not one of religion, or faith. Both have failed me, numerous times. For me, the good life is about being happy. Super fucking simple. I feel as if I have too much to say, a pressure ready to cave in and ready to implode...at the brink of something great for the exterior...and the interior. A life layed out as an essay on the way life should be laid out. Deceivers to become are the new generation of politicians, painters, doctors, heretics, government officials, writers, athletes, lobbyists, teachers, housewives, musicians, carpenters, thinkers, sinners, preachers, clerics, scum, poison...deceivers with one ending and one path only. So how different are you and me? How alike are we? I think we'd be perfect together, the future for this sounds much better.