An Open Letter To A Closed Addiction

Everything about me

makes me long for you,

and every long day

makes me miss those fleeting moments

we shared together.

Every tear I shed

reminds me

of the ones you wiped from my face

and as the pain gets a little worse

I try not to remember

how you made it better.

Every word I write

is pushing you away

so for now

I’ll be the one thats new

and you can be weathered.


Don’t Trust What Your Doctor Tells You About Love

Whoever said “actions speak louder than words”

had never believed a lie,

so truly that it emptied their heart

and clouded their eyes.

They never saw the difference

between touch and emotions

because sentiment and sex

are entirely different notions

and when they’re confused, a volatile mix

that makes you’re head spin

and you’re stomach sick.

Without Pain, A Soul Will Molder

If too much faith is put in humanity than the entire world will overlook the necessity of tribulation.

Society cannot rely on the message it attempts to teach, but must give recognition to what can only be learned through trial.

Misery has become the cultivator of good nature and without suffering a soul can’t grow and be humbled.

It will be fostered by ignorance and eventually it will spoil without ever being forced to understand empathy.

And as it is one thing to be shown compassion, it is an entirely different notion to have to show that compassion to someone else.

Without these fundamental understandings of condolence and altruism, humanity will be overcome with selfishness and greed.

People will condemn their past because of how it made them feel but not take a second to realize what it taught them.

It will be overlooked that once these adversities are conquered a hero can emerge from the devastation knowing now how to save someone else in a way they were not.

There is a beauty, an obligation, in pain, it just needs to be found, thought about, and understood.

And take comfort that there will never be a shortage.


The Only Way You Know It’s Working Is If It Hurts

It hurts but thats how you know that it’s working

The fire is feint but you know it’s still burning


The sky is dark grey but you know the sun is still shining

The poet is dead but you know he’s still pining


The birds are all gone but you know they’re still singing

The artist looks absent but you know he’s just thinking


The sinner looks down but you know its love that he’s breathing

Your chest may feel tight but you know it’s still heaving


It hurts but thats how you know that it’s working

The world may look lost but at least its still turning