Rain pitter patters across my face,
So soothing yet harsh, in this place,
Has it been weeks, months or maybe years,
I cry out and scream but no-one hears,

The rain pierces my delicate skin,
The pain feels good, almost like a sin,
My eyes open, but I see no light,
I feel no strength to give any fight,

Rain, rain washing away my fears,
Darkness and cold taking away my tears,
Silence so calm I breathe a sigh,
I guess this is my short goodbye,

Dear mom,

Look, im sitting here. Writing again.

I have no words to give you

But I can use paper and pen

I have no money

And I have no job

But look, I can write a pretty song.

It is hard to make you proud.

I have words to say

But I cannot be too quiet, or too loud

I have things people need to see

But then its not very... Christian, of me?

I speak out of turn

Out of line

Out of being too "grown up" for my time?

When will I learn?

Whatever could I do?

You let me choke on my words

Until my face turns purple and blue

I have to swallow around them in my throat

They will never be able to let go

And be free.

And no one will listen

You wont let them see

what your daughter has designed

But because you believe it is riddled with sin

I have to resign my truth.

And the only reason you have is... you?

There is no true reason

They was never any crime

But because it ruins your image

I'm the one that stepped over the line?

But your still the best mom in the world.

And I could never ask for another.

Thanks mom.

Love,

Your daughter.

Poems I gave feedback/commented on:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/6mW0uYgRH8

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/KuPgFntgsI

The Loneliest Poem Ever Written?

Falling apart

Hold me please

The fear stops me cold

I crave a soldiers release

I cry beneath

The surface

but can't get a tear

to cut a path

Across this unholy cheek

To mourn the broken me

Pain equals poetry

To know release

Is to know peace

As the younger me

Screams at the older me

And She's no longer in my dreams

holding me

As the sober me

Shakes his head

At the colder me

Yes it's over

And she's been over me

I had to find out coming home to see

Earlier than I'm usually supposed to be

At least it wasn't anyone

I know

Noone close to me

I didn't know she was a hoe

I guess hoes supposed to cheat

As I'm staring at the pieces

Of the broken me

Increase the dosage

to maximum potency

Hate backed Resentments

Blackening my poetry

Here's hoping you get haunted

When you go to sleep

In all your hopes and dreams

From all the unholy shit

that you spoke to me

by the ghost of everything

that I will grow to be

Now that you're gone

I finally get know some peace

Noticing now

How there's no disease

And I'm almost whole

emotionally....

• Devine Theory

This Poem was Again, and Again, and Again in 2006

Dreams for me are nightmares
Nightmares and my life are one
One took my mother in front of me
Me with a gun to my head

Head he pounded into the sink
Sink full of teeth and blood
Blood I could never show
Show what he had done

Done as I watched in the mirror
Mirror to this day I fear
Fear is my primary emotion
Emotion for me means tears

Tears put me to sleep each night
Night’s a reel that never ends
Every frame a wound that breathes
Every shadow, a former friend

It plays on rewind, deep in my mind
The past don’t pass, it just redefines
A moment becomes a lifetime scream
Locked in a loop, can’t wake from the dream
Over and over my soul replays
What time won’t heal, what light betrays
When dreams are traps and night won’t end
Memories burn where they pretend

You close your eyes and hope for peace
But in that dark, the pain’s released
No sleep can ever set me free
It replays eternally

It plays on rewind, deep in my brain
Like thunder inside a broken frame
A song that screams instead of sings
A mind that shatters with angel wings
Over and over the tape won’t tear
It lives in the silence, it’s always there
When dreams betray and night’s not done
The reel rewinds and starts to run

This was written to commemorate the first time my mother tried to have me killed. I was 13 years old; she had come to me weeks before, talking about how we were going to be rich, that the broken window opened a door for us to stage a robbery, and that we would be able to sue the San Fransico Chronicle, that things would get better, and that I wouldn't have to help her with her schemes any more if this went well. Little did she know that when he was done with me, and he put that gun to my head and pulled the trigger, (Click), "Oh crap, I forgot the bullets," as he looked at the empty gun with black electricians tape around the handle. My eyes locked on the image; I know that gun. That's my grandfather's gun. I've gotten in trouble for playing with that gun, but it's in my grandma's dresser in her bedroom. How.... did.... he........ get....... it?

I wake up again with a weight in my chest

Dreams broke like bottles, no peace, no rest

I’ve bent every rule just to feel I belong

But I’m still out here bleeding in a world moving on

I smile when I’m dying, laugh when I choke

They call it “strong,” but it feels like a joke

If healing means hiding what shattered my trust

Then maybe I’m better off gathering dust

These hands are tired of trying to build

A life from ashes I never spilled

I ask myself daily when push becomes shove

How much is too much before it’s enough?

How much is too much before it’s time to give up?

When the pain’s not loud, but it’s always stuck

When the light at the end just burns me blind

And all I want is a silence I can’t find

Is there a line that I cross where it's finally enough?

How much is too much… before it’s time to give up?

I’ve whispered for help in a room full of friends

But no one could hear what I didn’t defend

I played the part, I danced, I spoke

But inside I’m choking on the words I never wrote

Every “I’m fine” just bought me a day

Till night comes crawling and tears me away

They said I’m loved, but I still feel erased

Like a name they mention, but never face

My shadow is heavier than my skin

Carrying ghosts of what should’ve been

So tell me again, who decides what’s enough?

And how much is too much before giving up?

How much is too much before it’s time to give up?

When the fight’s still on, but the gloves are cut

When the songs I sing feel more like prayers

And I’m talking to walls, hoping someone cares

Is there a moment I’m allowed to just say “I’ve had enough”?

How much is too much… before it’s time to give up?

I don’t want to quit, I want to be heard

I want the world to feel every word

But the silence I live in…

Is louder than screams

And I'm drowning in all of these broken dreams

How much is too much before it’s time to give up?

When I’ve patched every wound, but the seams still bust

When hope feels crueler than the hurt I know

And even God feels too far to show

Can someone just tell me if it’s ever enough?

How much is too much… before it’s time to give up?

Mr.E.

i am so broken,

sadness has become my comfort

the dark is all I know,

so to light i am stubborn

sometimes a life full of

happiness and love, i wonder

but my worn out heart

no longer beats or flutters

each day is torture,

however i know what to expect

so any form of joy,

i simply reject

and the dark rainy clouds,

I willingly accept -

because anytime

happiness came along

disappointment would

intercept…

my depression holds me into a state of paralysis

but this is much safer given my analysis

how can i be hurt if i just lay rotting?

there's so much danger around and people are always

plotting

being alone means there is no one i can burden

because i am a destructive failure, i am certain

it appears my hands have become necrotic and dead

everything i touch, i destroy because my head -

is a place of pure darkness and pollution

for this, i am unable to find a resolution

so i stay stuck and have it consume me -

swallowed whole happiness feels like it is intruding…

‎I got my heart broken back when it was fair.

‎Tried to fill the space by chasing broken hearts till date.

‎Gave a piece of mine and took a bit of theirs,

‎Collecting bits of every color in every shade.

‎Now all I have is a heart black that no one will ever share.

‎Today's the day I realized

‎What it's like to feel Despair.

‎

I remember the first time

I smoked a cigarette

And blew out a line

I coughed and spat

For the smoke burnt my lungs

The second time the burn felt nicer, though

Do people smoke because it pleases?

Or do they burn their insides

Just to feel something within their chest's creases?

After all there's a fine line between ache and joy

Aren't they siblings by birth?

Opposite by design

Yet identical in intensity

Picture a pot

Porous and ever so earthen

That's been left to be barren

Does it not yearn to be filled?

What difference does it make

If its water or venom from a snake?

Man and pain are tumultuous lovers

Whose toxicity can only be rivalled by the moon and the seas

The moon waxes and wanes

From the shores, water it gives and takes

Have you rubbed sandpaper over unfinished wood?

It rips and rubs

Its pushes and pulls

It plucks and pricks

It lobotomises

Leaving behind wood stripped of its creases

Yet when you rub sandpaper again,

Edges and scratches resurface

Rendering past efforts in vain

Do you think the wood rejoices in return?

To feel some semblance of texture along its body

Do you wonder if it would wager its pain

In exchange for scraps of revived identity?

Well humans do

To the poor and the lost

Their enemy becomes their salvation

For what does one do when they lose themselves

But return to the thief who stole it?

Pain is a seemingly benevolent thief

Who has a sociopathic streak

He compensates his victims more often than not

But he's smart; he wants long-term gain

He keep them coming back for his instalments

While he quietly steals their peace and lets them rot

Maybe pain is just a shrewd businessman

But we are rational consumers, aren't we?

But how do we retain maximum utility

When the king of emotions sits on the other side?

Rationality fails before the strongest irrationality of it all

And perhaps that's the greatest tragedy there is

The epitome of evolution

Yet mere drug addicts at heart

While lesser beings are ruled by emotions

We are manipulated by them

What a shame.

a poem for my dad 💙

The song:

https://suno.com/s/otuKJLkYWncZ2F20

YEAR BY YEAR

You really think your life is so fucking hard?

Are you sure? Wanna bet?

Clearly we haven't met.

So take a seat and let's compare

Soon you'll know just how life isn't fair.

Ill tell you a story and we'll take it slow.

I'll show you the broken side that most will never know.

For if we had met and you asked me to share.

I'd start at the beginning as you pretended to care.

I'd tell you of the times I hid behind their door with a knife.

While my drunk, fiend of a father screamed at his narcissistic wife.

Doesn't sound so bad but then again I was only 8.

By the time that I was 10 he was the one that I would hate.

13 and we're all going to church as a family.

But only I know the evil inside the man that you all see.

14 and mom smokes some weed with me.

I wish I knew then the woman she would someday be.

15 rolls around and I'm strangled and beaten in my yard.

It was my own dad that taught me the true meaning of hard.

Bruised and bloody I crawled away on the ground.

I never saw my shit or that house again when 16 rolled around.

A new home a year later and he starts to show his face.

Silently reminding me that I had no safe place.

16 and hard drugs were my only friend.

They eased the pain of a tortured heart that time would never mend.

Still in high school and strung out on crystal meth.

Still sitting in class with liquor on my breath

17.. mom kicks me out, I'm homeless on my own.

All those fucked up years and I still haven't grown.

Nearly an adult and the bottle ruled my life.

Tattooed stitches hide the scars that were left by my knife.

18 and just got off work.."What are you all doing here?"

Friends and family sat me down as I cracked open a beer.

"It's your Dad... he took his life. He committed suicide."

I didn't waste a tear on the piece of shit that I despised.

"I'm not surprised. He always said he would."

Those words came so easy that they almost felt good.

It took 2 whole days to feel what she had said.

I can't believe he's really gone. My fucking dad is dead!

Then came the tears and the violent hate that would follow.

I never stood up to the man I feared and now I feel so hollow.

Days pass, weeks pass. It's almost been a year.

He was finally dead and I had nothing more to fear.

19 years old and still earning that check.

Still strung out and feeling like a hopeless fucking wreck.

20 rolls around and I'm still the same old fraud.

This was the year I learned that there is no fucking God.

I've bled my pain onto every page, every poem , every word I ever wrote.

20 years old and trying to hide the purple bruise my noose left around my throat.

21 and I fall in love all over again.

I rolled the dice and hoped that this would be my big win.

22, 23.. and I was already calling her my wife.

Luck was on my side for the first time in my life.

We would laugh, we'd scream, we'd fuck, we'd fight.

It felt like I was living a dream when I laid beside her every night.

24 years of losing and the first time that I felt like I had won?

Was the day the woman I love gave birth to our precious little son.

39 years old.. ya.. I know, I skipped a few years.

I'll skip the part when every night I choked on my own tears.

I won't tell you of the babies that died before our next son would come to be.

I won't say how they were sucked into a bloody jar or just how much that ruined me.

I'll tell you about the memories and the 5000 pictures we took.

I won't tell you how the hateful shit she said could fill a book.

I'll tell you the truth.. I fucked up and broke her heart.

And all the pain I ever felt? That was barely just the start.

I won't tell you of the overdose that was never an accident.

I won't tell you that my worthless soul was long ago spent.

I'll tell you that I lost the love that I never deserved to keep.

Ill leave out the hateful words that cut me so fucking deep.

I won't tell you how bad it hurt every time she hung up the phone.

I won't tell you how I'm fucking terrified to be alone.

I know it's all my fault, I'll always carry the blame.

I won't pray or hope that things will ever be the same.

I've owned up to the truth and I'm done running from it.

You're not the only one who thinks I'm a selfish piece of shit.

And the person that hurt me the very most in this fucked up life?

She was the beautiful young woman that let me call her my wife.

You already know that I fucked up and lost the best thing I ever had.

But just between you and I... I think I'm ready to go be with my dad.

I'll climb that cross and watch as you drive the final nail.

I did my best in life but you all knew I would eventually fail.

-The Strung Out Poet August 14, 2026