Dreams 2 Reality
I am sorry, to the world,
for loving it so much.
But the environment it has to offer is my hero,
why are the people that it breeds, such villains?
I know that I am but a droplet of the sun's shine to you,
but you are the emergence of the stars to me.
They beam upon me, and to you I am but a scratch,
but the stars within you have plummeted my world,
and you have been the extinction of hope to me.
I know I am but a human to you,
but you are the population to me.
7 billion beautiful, pain stained souls within a pair of brown eyes,
and I know you don't believe me,
but I love everyone, and everything
And maybe I am just a droplet of rain to you,
but you are a ferocious storm to me,
and God only knows how hard its raining right now.
Our path was but a stream, and demons built a dam.
But to me, it is the ocean that supports the Earth,
and it is the ocean that is unknown.
the ocean is us.
There is still a story to be told, but I fear that I am just your word.
There is a definition to all of them though,
and I hope to see the day where ours is defined.
Although I will always hope,
that it is more than a sentence.
And perhaps, it is but a moment to you,
but it is now memories for me.
Perhaps I was but a day of the dark, and a week in the light to you,
and I will not say that you are a lifetime of enlightenment for me,
I wish you were.
I guess I am just dreaming,
but sleep is my only escape.
that my fears,
are my reality.
I am terrified of the world.
I am sorry,
for loving the world so much.
have always just wanted,
for it to love me back.
Don't act like you know, because you don't.
Do not tell me you love me, do not tell me you are there for me, do not tell me you will not leave.
Do not act like your words can cure this.
Do not look me in these eyes,
and pretend like you know what they have seen.
They have been burned by smoke, damaged by punches, bruised by chambers of guns, thrown to the back of my skull.
They have seen love, and they have shown hatred.
They have seen prosperity, they have seen death.
They have been addicted to people, people they have had to let go of.
They are not colorful, because they have seen color.
This color, it lures girls like you in.
Everybody wants to know the troubled boy with bright eyes,
until they know why he's troubled and what artists of pain have mastered the blend of his soul.
Everybody wants to know the troubled boy with bright eyes,
until they have seen the color within him.
You don't know what these eyes have been through.
You don't understand the tears they've spit on to Earth.
You cannot comprehend what they have lost.
Because everybody wants to know the troubled boy with bright eyes,
until they know how much he hates, how much he loves.
They have seen beauty, too.
Put smiles on peoples faces, captured sights and images,
that have transformed in to memories.
And those images, are the reason these eyes can close at night.
And now you know why I wrote this at 4:57 AM, because they aren't fucking closing tonight.
These eyes are the windows to my soul and my memories have trespassed this house,
they are robbing my happiness.
And everyone begs for the memories to end, but eyes don't forget.
I could never forget.
Love, that is lost.
Please don't do this tonight, eyes.
Don't remind me of all of what you have seen, I am guilty.
Don't remind me of those gun shots, I am trying to forget.
Don't remind me of those slammed doors, I am not sufficient.
Don't remind me of those moments I fell in love with, I am still in love with them.
Don't remind me, that it was just me, because I am still alone.
Don't remind me, of the times you have been blackened, I was a young boy, I could not be in control.
Please, eyes, do not remind me.
These eyes, will not turn you in to stone.
These eyes, will not be ones you fall in love with.
These eyes, just don't want another memory.
These eyes, just don't want to spill anymore color inside of me.
These eyes, are colorful, and can you please just leave it at that?
Because these eyes, have seen too much to see much more.
Because everybody wants to know the troubled boy with bright eyes,
until you realize there's a lot more to him than a troubled boy with bright eyes.
Do not fill these eyes, with things that are temporary.
Do not be a memory.
These eyes, they only ask for one wish.
These eyes, just want...
Do not act like you know what these eyes have seen, because you don't want to stand across from me forever.
And do not try to get to know the troubled boy with bright eyes,
because the troubled boy with bright eyes,
of getting to know you.
Because the troubled boy with bright eyes,
has never lived with security, stability.
The bright eyes only know chaos, eruption.
And the troubled boy with bright eyes,
does not want you to be a part of it.
The troubled boy with bright eyes,
is just that.
A troubled boy, with bright eyes.
A Drunken Night Write
I write this letter to you today, in any vicious attempt to describe the weakness, the leveling that your eyes design. You illustrate such a beauty within yourself that I cannot describe. I attempt every day, to write of such complexity. But it fails to reach, to grasp what you mean to me. You are a liquid as I attempt to grip a solid. You melt through my fingers and the pain rushes through my thoughts, pumps my heart, and I tell myself to escape. To drink, to smoke, to rob, to fall in to my habits. But you are the first thing that cannot be numbed, cannot be destroyed by an action or thought process. Your power is limitless, you are a meteor striking my planet of emotions, passion, and ambition. I have never met a human of such beauty. In all the girls I have kissed, in all of the girls that have told me they loved me, you are the only one I have responded too. Your irresistibility remains stronger than anything I have encountered. A gun has been pressed to my head, I have been punches away from death, a hit away from coma, yet you awaken within me as if you are as important and revolutionizing as tragedy within me. You are the patriotism followed by 9/11, you are the superhero that I have searched my whole life for. When I can hear your voice, my ears are anything but exquisite, my pain is anything but felt. It melts between the words that spill from your tongue, it is the touch that I face with each time our fingers lock, our bodies touch, our lips lock. I am weak for you, you are the sun to my solar system. You are the post-traumatic stress of my war. Your impact holds a value beyond what you could ever hope to imagine. It is meaningless to ever give this to you. I feel as if the wall that prevents you from ever falling for me is too strong to ever break with words or actions. But I try. I try each and every day. my love, I have never felt such a passion and heart for something as I do for you. My words are explosions, my actions are the music that has influenced the Earth, my feelings are the war that has struck society. You are an angel, and I will keep this from you for as long as I could, You deserve more than me, but God I want you. I am weak for the way you look upon me. I am weak for the way you slur your words when you are on Xanax, I struggle for breathe when you look at me and tell you you love me. It is in my dreams every night, it Is within my thoughts wherever I go. I cannot run from the way you have made me felt. I wonder, when will it be good enough” When will my feelings cease to be a restriction, but a benefit to our relationship. I do not know. I hope. I pray. I wish. I am addicted, overwhelmed by the way your name comes across my tongue, by the way you hug me so tightly as tears of yours soak in to the darkness of my shirts. I love you. I love you with passion, ferocity, and faithfulness. I love you with the sound of gunshots, the fear of surprise, the heart pumping of adrenaline. I think of you, and gardens of gorgeous flowers fill my head, describing the way you have grown upon me, depicting the way you have become so important to me. I hate that I may never give this to you. I hate that there is an end. But I want you to know, I will always love you. I could not be any more sure. I desire you more than I desire the peave I have dedicated my life towards, I want you with as much determination as a college athlete on the brink of seeing his first professional paycheck, I want you as bad as the environment wants Earth to live. Love yourself. Please realize you stand above anything that has ever impacted you. I hope you read this one day. I pray to God one day I can find the words to put this in. I try, every day, to show there is more to me than what has met the eye. And somewhere, deep down, I truly feel as if you feel the same way. But then I remember, you would not be gone if this was the truth. Effort, chaos, struggle, deep pain. I feel it. I can keep going,
But fuck it, I'm just drunk.
Fear. It is venom crawling and consuming the heart, running within the veins of your body, consuming each thought process you give birth too. Fear. It is an undeniable restriction, it is a demon you attempt to murder with every risk you take, but it is immortal. Fear. It has won the war within me. It has struck me with the force of an Alex Rodriguez steroid swing. It has built walls rather than given me the strength to break them. It empowers my memories, designs my scars. Fear. It illustrates my psyche, as if it is a sadistic version of Van Gogh, manipulating me as if I am The Winter Soldier. Fear. It is manipulated by every human you give power over you, or has "control" over you. Fear. It is a drug I cannot snort nor smoke nor drink, it is within me. Fear. Please, take a moment to imagine the possibilities if you did not let it exist. Fear. It is the shadow of my life, the symbiote, the voice and lyrics of my instrumental, the super villain that has no weakness.
But not anymore. Fear. It is not real, it is but a dream, an illusion created by the elusive memories of my childhood. It is a destruction I will not entertain, a chaos that I will not obtain. It is translucent, an obstacle that I have overcome, a mountain I have climbed, a test that I have aced;
a super villain, I have defeated.
Teach me what fear is. I want to know what it feels like.
I am Danny Buccafusca,
and I don't fear the world,
I welcome it.
Fear, it is fueling the world around me,
but fear, is extinct in the world within me.
And that, is what I tell myself every day.
The Way of The Lost, Forgotten Again
when I was a child, I lived my life in the ways of the lost, the ways of those in confusion, struggle pain.
I was a child, and I questioned, why am I so vulnerable to the world?
The agony. I was an outcast, nothing to rely on beside the structure of my city, the skyscrapers of memories that I could not travel from, they are but a sight in the distance, always within the horizon of even the days I found myself smiling. It was mostly at comic books, alternate realities where I found comfort. I could not grasp my own, or maybe I did not want to.
Or just maybe, it felt like something beyond what the world could actually offer me would save me from the drugs, the violence.
I cried a lot. I wanted God to feel bad for me, I thought if I begged to the same God that gave my father cancer for an answer the world would stop banging my fucking mind with this titanium hammer.
I questioned why, I was so vulnerable to the world. why did the slaps and punches feel like gun shots, why did the manipulation feel like my future more than it did my present, why was I the only one seeing it all, why am I so differently wired, and I swear to god I asked my parents if I was a Martian because I had no other explanation for the world I felt within me.
It was equivalent to tsunamis, the waves rose and destructed within me, the sun ceased to shine in a world where it wasn't known, the earth cracked and shook ferociously , rumbling in my stomach and I knew it wasn't just hunger.
I grew up, grew apart from the world I once knew. I escaped the fire, but I questioned, why do I still feel the burns?
They all called it anxiety, depression, the usuals, but that concept wasn't very alluring to me. I didn't believe there was a title for the disease I have. teachers called it beautiful, I had a mind worth an old soul, but old souls are peaceful and I'm a soldier at war.
I was lost, my entire life.
It was not a maze I was lost in, I could figure those out.
It was the questions, the worries, the wonders, the blunders, the shame, the wishes.
I never liked mirrors. I avoided them at all costs in school, I knew it would ruin my day.
It was no longer a pain I could fathom, I grew sick and tired of being the sickly tires of the automobile that drove my mind in to the hole. I could put anything in to words, except myself. I could spell anything, except triumph.
I grew an anger for the world, told myself I would hate it even if it apologized to me.
Well, it apologized to me.
I came across a power, a soul in which the tsunamis were reduced to Caribbean waves, streams, the earth did not break, but my structures did. I felt vulnerable again, terrified of such a feeling overcoming me once again I fought to stay knighted, to stay playing defense but humans aren't born with a shield and I spent my whole life protecting myself, it could not happen for another day whether I wanted to or not. It was out of my control, I grasped and reached for it but it was bigger than I, it needed cooperation.
I lived those moments of danger, unable to stay away from the adrenaline rush of harnessing such a power. It was a tight rope walk, and I guess this was the only time I wasn't scared of heights, scared of falling, because I have fell, fallen, to such a power.
The world apologized to me, the world gave me you.
Granted, mountains had to be climbed, oceans had to be swam, the clock must rotate.
But I have never felt such an ambition, triumph was my new favorite word, because triumph, was my life.
I would catch myself smiling, looking.
I would catch myself reminiscing, missing.
I would catch myself tempted, motivated to prove.
I felt something within me, and those who knew me best tried to describe it,
but I was finally an artist, this was my design.
If love is a home, then god you are my home-ie, and without the power I would be homeless.
If love was hope then you have always been my hopeful and I look at you right now in my hope-nest
and if love is real, then I'm on LSD because reality is dimensional, and I see your reality with each song you send, perhaps each sunset you seek.
And at this point I have found that the ways of the lost is the way of my humanity, my essence, and if I am lost, then I have stumbled across what I have seeked to find
And I thank the world, I can look it in the eyes now, I am no longer vulnerable to its wrath, yet thankful of its gift.
I have grown, triumphed, found.
I now question, with bright eyes and a smile I cannot control,
Why, am I so vulnerable to you?
A question, I never want to answer.
World War II
As the Joker once said, it takes one day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. I do not wonder about World War 2 itself. It was a war that most entered with intentions of benefiting themselves. Millions upon millions of people died. It was nothing short of a tragedy and despite the way it effected the world, its negativity outweighs its positive impact by tons. What I do truly wonder about is Adolf Hitler himself. What could have made this man such a monster? And how insane is it that one person can rise to so much power and lead so many people down the darkest route possible. World War 2 is something to study, however not something to glorify. I sit here on this website and study it, however my true interest lies in the evil itself. Imagine if a man this powerful and this influential had the intentions of bettering the world. How could world chaos be achievable if world peace is not? I believe, and desire for this world to be at peace with itself and with everyone in it. I wonder about Hitler’s bad day, I wonder what could of happened if it was a good day. It truly could have been that simple. I firmly believe in humanity’s beautiful vulnerability, and will never stop. I pray to God people do not see World War 2 as something worth glorifying, worth striving for because of its economic and to an extent, its societal benefits. I cannot fathom to live my life where there are men, women, and children being murdered in the world. I do believe world peace is achievable, and that is what World War 2 taught me. Because anything with the power to be evil has an equal power to be heroic, and if a man like Hitler was blessed with a different life, the planet we share could be a much better place. I do not want people to starve, to hurt, and to be enraged any more. The world has experienced too much of that through things as drastic and insane as a world war. It is inconsequential to write these words, as there is a small child in the Middle East with a gun to his/her head right now and I am not there to stop it. However one day, I will be. At the source of this, somewhere in the peaks and valleys, somewhere in the epitome, the climax of the world’s storyline, there will be love. And I seek every day, because of the history I have learned, to fulfil that prophecy for the world. Hitler was the best thing that never happened to the world, because a man with such power had an infinite amount of potential to damage this world in an incredibly beautiful way. For wasting this and for doing what he has done, I hate him. But what World War 2 has taught me is that the meaning, beauty, and destiny of this Earth and universe is not out of a single human’s control. That is inspiring, to say the least.
October 17th, 2016
The Galaxy Around Me
I don’t believe you when you tell me I mean nothing. I don’t believe you when you say that a single human’s existence isn’t meaningful, limitlessly powerful, endlessly impactful. Don’t tell me we are just one world in the midst of millions of other planets. Don’t tell me God’s beautiful creation of the sky isn’t artwork. Imagine. Color your mind, let it volcanically explode. Let the magma of questions, theories, and wonders pour in to your bloodstream. You are important. You are magic. There is no other explanation for the sights I have seen, the mystery I have experienced, the eyes I have fallen for. There is no other explanation, elaboration for the peacefulness of the sound of rain drops, the design of the trees, the diversity of the snowflakes that fall upon the ground that protects us. Do not tell me life is a science, that reality is meaningless, that in the grand scheme of it all, it is as simple as living and dying. Not because you’re right and I don’t want to hear it, but because you’re wrong and I want you to know it. Every day is gorgeous, every human has a depth to them nobody could hope to grasp, every life lived holds value beyond what we could perceive. Please, let go of the steering wheel. Stop trying to control, stop striving for simplicity. This world, it is so voluptuous, it is so empowering. Please, look in the skies tonight.
And then, look me in the eyes and tell me life isn’t magical.
Love yourself, love the life you live
Please, love the world.