where it will be true

i don't care any more...
the world keeps turning no matter how far i am...
i don't have hate in my heart...
my heart won't match this world...
what i do will be mine...
and what i can give to the world...
i will give it with joy...
but my aims won't be to please the world...
my aim will be true, for me...

if it is to be requated

some of the worlds joy aren't to be mine...
as it is obvious that i won't be here before the next century...
some of the laws are cold to me...
but i must keep as though they aren't...
the light that keeps me warm isn't always mine...
as this i speak as a thief, that starves more than feasts...
i am to except this as it is law...
as things are, the past innocent feelings give joy...
but as a man these things are shallow to live by...

some bitters

if things could glitter as they do in memories...
the world would speak more of you...
but as it stands the words that sound...
are of broken and wounded feelings...
laughing is the only way to cope...
with the attempts made to walk about...
this would sound of a working life...
the only thing that keeps it from falling apart...
are these words, that see the shine in the few moments...

dangling of madness

in all the strange words...
standing amongst the expected world...
some words made sleep...
that much easier...
especially during the milestones and anniversaries'...
of others...
faded to a black mood with a smile...
is the simple couping that doesn't work...
because it becomes empty...
and the meanings become lost because of it...

burning in some sun... somewhere

i spit blood when i speak...
i got the last bit of breath in me...
as the final love...
everything is in my word...
whether my truth is truth...
these are the word that were given me...
for or hate that's my truth...

There will be words

When this life passes...
Will you still be the same soul...
After all the battles...
And the burning days...
Could you remember the same light...
Are you still there in the air...
Does your step touch the earth...
Even it passes there will be these words...

Exile

The world doesn't close on me...
It leaves me silent...
As a quiet death...
With that I am almost silent...
That is a death, that I can't speak...

If regrets serve

If messages are written...
In faults...
Then post adolescent regret...
Is heavy in the could have beens...
And if memory serves...
Forgetting would be a blessing...
Not to wither in lost possibilites...
Which will it serve to be...

how the world is

of new lines spoken...
so much was heard in the words..
only soo much truth could be breathed...
in the simple lies happiness could be found...
from a fantasy and in hearing few words...
life could continue as it was...
mercy was only seemed a fantasy...
that was held longer than one day or in a thought....

a fools thought

after it all past...
i sit thinking here...
what it didn't last....
and for everything that i keep...
leaves me crying like an orphan...
with that i walk have to walk on...
laughing at the sun...
even after it over i still think back...
that all the waste that was given in those days...
has lost its bite...
after the world has seen another day...
i am the one with a tainted life...
from not giving what i could have...
but in the end it doesn't matter at all...
it all has to make me laugh...
love was like a religion...
and it was all of my life....
mornings afterwards always seem stale...
tieing together the loose pieces...
the pieces that i left in broken glasses...
i remember after i lost the frank talks...
i threw them all then to the glass