_lessons.

I’m completely convinced
That every girl I’ve ever fallen for
Has two distinct parts to her.

One part was a handwritten letter from God.
Curves from his most beautiful handwriting
So sweet you would swear
He had honey in his pen.
A linguistic masterpiece
Of every style and genre
But every story was beautiful in its own way.
A symphony in syntax
With punctuations in all the right places
Crossed every T
But lost as soon as I got to their eyes
Signed with a:
ps. I hope you learn something from this about yourself

And the other half was an avid student
That never missed a chance to sit in the front
Of every class taught by Satan.
Knowing exactly what to do
To make me feel alive
Just to kill me a little bit on the inside later.
I swear all of their notes
Were written on the inside of their throats.

If that’s the case then the devil
Is one hell of a teacher
Because he always managed to teach me something too.

SticksAndStones

They say sticks and stones
May break your bones
But words can never hurt you.
But what am I supposed to do
When your tongue lashes like whips
Against the torture rack your lips turned out to be?
And the words I never said are the ones that hurt the most.

Like…
I love you.
I miss you.

And my legs rattle like earthquakes
Wrestling with hurricanes
Afraid of what’s going to happen next.
Cold sweat drips in beads
Like machine guns unloading bullets
In a point for list of everything I didn’t do.

And those sticks and stones
Are the words I never wanted to hear from you.
So I tell myself…
…those sticks and stones
…wouldn’t have been so bad after all.

There’s no emergency room
For a collection of scars
From should have’s
And could have’s
And would have’s.
So I’m left with notebooks
And dried out pens as painkillers.

While your words form balled fists
In the pregnant silences they left behind.
Growing lives of their own.
Until the walls start to tell stories
Of scuffed knees
And actions stitched together with good intentions.

And in the end…
Those sticks and stones.
Are just sticks and stones.

SpokenWordArtistsAreALotLikeStrippers

We stand in front of strangers

And bare everything we hide from everybody else.
So you can judge every angle of my soul

While I open my arms so you could see

Every scar in the space between my fingertips.

We spend minutes on stage that feel like years…

Naked like the day we were created.

Before we figured out how to hide our emotions

When that snake told us we were too special to feel anything.
And that forbidden fruit is still caught in our throats…

I’ve just been trying to get it out.

See…most people only take all of their clothes off

With people they’re comfortable with.
The same goes for secrets.

But we do both on a regular basis

Because that’s what we’ve started to rely on

to get us through our tough times.

So we won’t judge you.
Until we’ve seen everything

under that facade you show the world.
Because we know just what it feels like

To stand in front of people we will never know…

That will judge us.

Based on that one window in time

When we stood on that stage and showed them everything.

I'veBeenLookingForYou

I’ve been looking for you.
Inside the glory of rejection
And the desolation of acceptance
When neither of us knew what we wanted.

I’ve looked for you
In the rock bottoms of hearts
And dried up wishing wells
Tracing the arcs of good intentions
Over tidal waves.

I think I’ve seen you hiding
In empty confessionals
Blank text messages
And in the crooked smiles and awkward hellos
Of people I’ve never really talked to.

I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you
Composing an orchestra in my chest
To a chorus of words of wisdom
I’ve heard but never listened to.

I’ve looked for you
In shadows dancing in the dark
And lightning crashing in the sun
Until I could no longer tell the difference.

I might have spoken to you before.
In broken prayers
And stories that cut our conversations short
With the jagged fragments of sentences
Until we stammered and stuttered
Into blissful embrace of silence.

But I think I’ve found you.
In the metal magazines I keep
Tucked away inside mechanical pencils
And the blood of ballpoints
Until the time I was ready.
Ready to love you enough to origami your lined paper heart
Into a masterpiece.

ALetterToTheEarthFromTheChildren

I’m dying.
I think I’m dying…slowly.

The air is a baby born from
Lit cigarettes, rotting garbage
And the burning bones of those who came before us.
The smog has my lungs in a hostage situation
And the ransom is too high a price
When I can’t even afford to pay attention
To what’s happening.

So think about it…
We’re our own worst enemy.
See, it’s an eye for an eye
So we’re blind to our crimes
And we’ve already packed landfills
With indifference
But we can’t stop what we’ve already started.

Even the noise is against us
We grow deaf to our mother’s pleas
And drown out her calls with the music
Of engines and TV’s so we wouldn’t have to think about it.
If only she could send us a text message
We would probably listen then.

But now…
The world is a witness
So the ozone watches in shock
Her jaw drops as she cries ultraviolet
Like a response to society’s ultra violence

We’re turning the planet into a gas chamber…
Where it’s a weakness to be human
And we’ve given up on making gas masks
Looking for an antidote but we lack that.
Now I think we’re all dying too.

The water’s poisonous if it’s not bottled
And the purest I remember seeing was in a teardrop.
Cumulus clouds bleed acid
While their wounds leak sunlight
So we think it’s alright.

We build iron giants and concrete constructs
That graze the heavens just to prove we can.
But the Tower of Babel didn’t last either.

They told me to never stare at the sun
Or else I might go blind…
But they never said anything about watching TV too long
And it’s too late to change where we’re headed.
So we learn to speak in slang
Write in misinterpreted body language.
And cuss fluently like it was our mother tongue.
So they treat us…
They treat the youth like chemicals
Ready to explode into fireworks of failure
When they put us together
So they could say they told us so…

But we are the ones that can change all that.

The children of a generation that
Brought us to where we are now
So why do you doubt that we can resurrect
Your hopes for the future.
But I beg you mother…
To let us live long enough to change.

IHopeYouFallDown3FlightsOfStairs

I hope you step barefoot on a Lego block.

The first time I saw you
I thought to myself…DAMN
I bet you’ve broken more necks walking down the street
Than in every Metal Gear Solid game.
And God would convert religions
Just to follow whoever was able to think you into existence.
You are that beautiful.

See…I wanted to treat you perfectly.
Love you like it was the only thing
I ever learned correctly
Because the way I fell for you was a crash course in physics.

And I’m tempted to ask how you have the nerve
To be so gorgeous and make even the pages of magazines feel insecure.
Or maybe that’s just me.

I swear to God, I thought about marrying you.

And then everything changed.

So to the guy you replaced me with
If I ever meet you in person…I’m sorry
Just in case I can’t resist the urge to punch you in the face.
But I probably will.
Just blame it on her.

But sometimes, I pray that I could put everything
I feel about you in a box
Just so I can leave it inside a burning house…
During Armageddon.
Or wish I had Alzheimer’s
Just so I could forget about you for once.
And that you’d run out of memories
To pay rent with and finally get out of my head.
Because I always find ways to find pieces of you
In every song that I listen to.

See, I don’t really know how to put this into words
And believe me I’ve tried.
And too often my voice fails me
When I remember how I used to breathe your every thought
Like they were oxygen molecules in a space station.
But I have one last thing I wanted to say to you.

I hate you.

ApparentlyI'mSoftSpoken

Sometimes I’m afraid of speaking.

I mumble because I’m incapacitated
With an illogical fear that my words
Would transform my shoulder blades into knives
Ready to treat my spinal column like chopping blocks.
My skin is frayed from the countless attempts
To see what’s beneath the surface
And I think my tongue is spying on me
Ready to betray my thoughts to the highest bidder
Just so they can judge me like they don’t already.
So I keep my secrets stapled to my lungs
Breathing empty reassurances and
Weightless confessions until I’m left mute.
And the fear keeps its grip firmly around my windpipe
So my voice resonates with all the force and authority
Of a silent night.
So I write.

In a society where we win bragging rights
And gift receipts for “I told you so”s,
Talk behind backs like there was
Soundproofing in our spines,
And real lies become synonymous
With what we realize
My words are well guarded
Behind walls of silence.
I’m soft spoken.

PoetrySlamsAreFreakShows

Come one come all!
Step right up!
Marvel at the human oddities.
Come see these freaks of nature.
It will be the greatest show on Earth!
Don’t miss out!

ARE YOU READY!?

I’m here.
With all the confidence of the offspring
Of the bearded lady and the elephant man.
I’m putting all of my mistakes on display for you.

So do you like what you see?

Looking for strokes in my scars
Like God applied pain with a paint brush
And the stitches are tattooed into my flesh
From every time I’ve tried to put myself back together.
And if feels like I’ve done it wrong this time…
My insides are contortionists
Trying to juggle my secrets with my conscience.
Wishing for a samurai’s suicide
So I can spill my guts to you with honour.
But this is not a battlefield.
This is a freak show.

So you just sit there and watch me burn
In the heat of memories and honesty
Under the weight of your gaze
I’m just here for your enjoyment.

Do you like what you hear?

The ventriloquist poet on stage
Afraid of commitment so there’s no strings attached.
But don’t get too close
Or you’ll find out he’s human.

We are praised for being broken.
Raised by experience to breathe fire on stage
Never realizing that gasoline burns
And my words are carving grooves into my windpipe
Like I’m learning to swallow swords in reverse.

I grew hearts on my sleeves
Because the one in my chest always seems to get broken..
I’m conjoined to my past
And nightmares always creep into my bed of nails.
My closet is a graveyard for human skeletons
And I’m afraid that they’ll drag me in
Every time I try to change.

I bear my flaws for your entertainment.
So I can’t stop pretending
Can’t stop acting
Can’t stop dancing
Or you’ll find out that I’m not really alright.

But the show has to go on.
You paid the door charge
And you came here to see a show.
So here I am.

ScarsAndTheStoriesBehindThem

All I wanted to do was make you smile.
To gaze in between your violin string eyelashes while my heart skipped a symphony.

But I realized that “we” were just a giant arts and crafts project. So I superglued my effort to bits and pieces of good intentions. Paper mache-d my dreams to your reassurances, hoping we could be something.

If only that worked out.

Because I knew all along that I wasn’t meant to stay.
Just for you to get tired of.

Now you see me for what I really am.
Broken.

So you ask how I got these scars.
Streams ran their courses down my face and carved rivers into my cheeks. Tempests of apologies battered on the roof of my mouth, so my excuses could be nailed to my tongue.

I stapled signs to my spine.
Reminders of every reason why I sacrificed who I was for you.
Crucified by your judgments while you pierced my side with your indifference.
All while I tried to resurrect sunsets from behind your eyes.

You ask how I got these scars.
I got them as I picked out all the shrapnel of your smile from my memories. Tore every fragment of your laugh from my ears. And the echoes of your voice from the caverns of my consciousness…so I wouldn’t get lost in them.

So you see these bullet wounds riddled across my chest…remnants of your cocked fingers firing accusations at my fragile conscience.

See, I swallowed my pride to make you happy.
So it climbed up my ribs like jungle gyms and made escape tunnels of my veins.
I walked miles to meet you halfway, over shells of empty words and broken promises while bearing your burdens on my back.

So I bled these psychiatric ink blots onto the same tissues I once tried to dry your tears with. Hid secrets in every syllable of your name. Whispered sweet nothings to your imperfections. And mumbled confessions to old conversations.

See, all I ever wanted to do was make you smile.
Because if I could, I would drown your fears in the blood, sweat and tears that I’ve shed for you. See I hate you, but I miss you, but I hate you…but I miss you…but my scars keep reminding me.

See I got these scars the second I fell for you.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

IAmAPrince

I am a prince.
Not a formerly known as turned symbol.
No paparazzi magnet in matrimony with the tabloids and headlines
No regal bearing…and not charming in the least
But I’m still a prince.

Made who I am by my blood
So it’s not a played out phrase
When I say I’d treat my wife like royalty…because she would be.
Because by logic I’m a prince if I was raised by a queen.

But I never get the chance to thank her.
My memory fails to keep track of our history the way parliament would
But it’s etched in the genetic structures she built in me
The way she contributed half
And we share the same beautiful biology
Constructed to the letter in the blueprints
She stowed away in my DNA
With every detail planned in her chromosomes
Sometimes forgetting my double helix inheritance when it gets lost in translation
And take for granted the fact I have an empire in my bloodline
That Alexander would envy.

So I’m hoping everything you are is hereditary.
Since I’d hate to be anything less
It’s impossible to be anything more
But taught to be as much since I was raised by a queen.
So I am a prince.

Not worthy of the title she gave to me
Never tried hard enough in school
Even less outside of it
While she worked 12 hours a day
Just to give me things I wanted but didn’t need.
But I learned from you.
See, a long time ago I realized that Grandma got it right
When she named you a miracle
Because you are.

A queen.
With your family as a kingdom.
Never wanted to be monarch
But willing to migrate for your future generations like monarch butterflies.
See, I could never treat your visage like Elizabeth’s
Molding it into metal.
Unable to place your face on currency
So currently, I’m trying to put your features into poetry.

Knowing I could never succeed.
But I’m trying.
Trying to live up to what you made me.
A prince.
Hoping to make the queen proud.

AHandfulOfSincereApologiesBecauseIt'sTheBestICanDo

The words I had carefully laced in my apology had barely left my lips
When I looked into her eyes.
She said nothing.

Her lips quivered like she was facing her darkest fears
In a nightmare she couldn’t escape…
The pain, too much to place into words
And in that moment, time stopped.
And I swear…I swear I could hear her heart
Fighting against the confines of her ribcage
Yearning for emancipation
From every blow it had ever taken

Each bruise from every leap of faith into unknown arms
Every ‘I love you’ and ‘forever and always’ sugar coating ulterior motives
Every mistake.
Mistakes she blames herself for
Thinking they were her fault.
But they never were.

Her eyes doing backstrokes in an ocean
She held it in
Saving her tears in the piggy bank under her eyes
Already filled to capacity with every regret she ever had
She saves them, trying to refill the trust fund
That experience had slowly diminished.

And it hurt more than anything she could ever say.

Her muted emotions
Interspersed through the silence of her gaze
The sound reverberated off eardrums and hollow walls
Because sometimes, silence is the loudest sound you can make.

For every word she refused to say
I died inside a thousand times
And all I could say was…”I’m sorry”
And I meant it with every fibre of my existence
Not just for everything I’ve done wrong
But a universal apology

An “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you that night”
Or “I’m sorry that somebody showed you the darkest side of men
And not the best that we have to give you.”
An “I’m sorry that my touch might remind you of his
And that he chained himself to your memories, and even the best of them can hurt”
“I’m sorry that even the most honest choose to hide behind the guise of a lie”
And “I’m sorry that my promises are fragile figurines
That I break like eye contact in staring contests because I’m afraid of getting lost in your eyes without breadcrumbs…”

But I always had the best intentions
Yet it breaks my heart that an apology is the best I can do.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs
Rage because I can do no better than to utter a few words
Words that anybody can say and not mean
I want to yell until you believe me that everything will be alright
That you are still perfect no matter what you hold against yourself
And what you’ve been through

And as I looked into her eyes
Tears ready to dive from her lashes
I realized that sometimes silence
Is the loudest sound you can make.

AListOfThingsYouMadeMeRethink

I remember falling in love with a girl that wanted to change the world.
So in comparison, whatever I did was never enough.
I told her I’d change how she saw the world, but that was a bluff
But I could never give her the true answer she was in search of to allow her to cure cancer.
I wrote poems for her…but that didn’t help with the AIDS epidemic.
I wrote a song for her…but that didn’t deliver food to starving children.
Whatever I did, there was a problem it didn’t solve…especially one.
There was the problem that...I just wanted to hold her hand and that never happened.
So she made me feel like shit.
But in the end she made me better.
Always striving for perfection to please her, looking for acceptance.
Though through those months I learned some things.

1. Nothing I did for you was ever enough. No matter how hard I tried to relate to your goals, how I tried to get along with your friends, or how hard I tried to understand you…you weren’t having that. You never noticed how hard I tried...so screw you.
2. I will never write another love song. And now I have more of a reason other than the fact that I can't sing.
3. You never really liked me back.
4. I hate that feeling when your leg falls asleep and you struggle to stand up.
5. I know the last one didn’t make sense but that was you and me. I fell for you…hard and you weren’t there. So the only thing that ended up happening was me stumbling and looking stupid.
6. I was stupid for liking you as long as I did….I hate you.
7. I was right about 3. You never really liked me back.
9. I skipped 8 because I remember you telling me it was your favourite number. And so were you, but that was once upon a time and now I can’t see the number 8 without thinking of you…thanks a lot.
10. I was way too nice to you. I gave you everything I could that you never asked for. Because now I realize that girls just want what they can’t have. They want a challenge, so I should have played hard to get. Why did no one tell me that!?
11. Without a shadow of a doubt you made me better.
12. So that makes me wonder that if we met now, instead of back then…maybe we would be together.
13. The fact that you didn’t like me made me realize what I had to change about myself. And because of that I get girls now. (I’m lying, no I don’t.)
14. I hate you.
15. As much as I hate you now, I have to thank you for being more than just another girl. Not even an ex-girlfriend…but an inspiration to change.

So I’m sorry if you never get to change the world.
But here’s the consolation prize. You changed me for good and until now, I thought that was just as hard.

HowDoYouBreakAMan?

How do you break a man?

You take away his eyes…
No, that wouldn’t work. Then he would have no choice but to listen. Without the benefit of sight, he would begin to pay attention to each little thing you say. And not only understand more, but he would actually care. He would begin to sense past what seeing alone prevents him from actually “seeing”. A person’s beauty is only skin deep, and with the increased perception he gains from losing that sense of sight, he can begin to dig deeper into the diamond vault that is her inner beauty, A vault that has been kept behind lock and key in the form of pain and tears from past relationships. When you build up the walls around your heart in an attempt to hide inside yourself, he will be the one to feel his way around it, looking for the weakness that will allow him to be close to you. He would become the blind man that found the light in the truth hidden underneath the physical. He will see no evil, and his view of the world would remain untainted.
But he will not break; he will go on…

You take away his ears…
No, that wouldn’t hinder him. Without his hearing, he would be able to see the world in a better light. He would learn to decipher meanings behind actions that would usually be ignored in favour of a nod and a “Uh-huh” just to show that he heard you…but that doesn’t mean he was listening. Then the tenors of his mind begin to attune to the patterns of pitter patters on the rooftops of his soul. The observations he makes will become the basis of the music he hears in the depths of his chest. The sound that his heart makes when she strings together melodies in the form of actions that pluck on his heartstrings like the chords in songs, because words do little to describe affection when words are only movements of lips beyond his understanding. He will be free from the confines of sound and he will understand through his own physical experiences, regardless of what beat the world decides to play on the surface of his eardrums. He will hear no evil, and his own judgment will be the final word.
But he will not break; he will go on…

You take away his strength…
No, that would not stop him. He would just grow stronger in more ways than brute force. Without the facility of strength, he would gain the mental capacity to comprehend more than he ever has. The shackles that bind him would break and he would be able to fly through clouds of wisdom and skies of endless possibility. There is no cage for the human mind, and he would grow to reach unfathomable heights as he accepts his own weakness. Trading one aspect of power for another, he broadens the scope of his strength beyond what he learns and develops it to reach the unthinkable. The heavens become just another level to reach past, when the human body has failed to become an anchor. Instead of using his fists, his tongue becomes sharp as blades, with the skill of Blade hunting vampires. His verbal assault will go far beyond what jabs and hooks are capable of, his intellect acting as the ammunition. And with the increased eloquence he gains, he becomes capable of expressing his feelings to the greatest extent of his ability.
But he will not break; he will go on…

You take away his mind…
No, for he would simply live a life in ignorance. He would be unaware of suffering and the understanding of pain would be unknown to him. This idiocy would be his shelter from all the hurt the world can distribute and he will be invincible. The shell of naivety will be his armor and this crusader would be invulnerable from the evil of society. Nothing but the most basic and simple desires would present themselves to him, and so simple things like love and war would reflect off of the little bubble he resides in and fly off into oblivion. Without the input of others, he will hold on tightly to his own morality, with no second thought about his own mortality…he becomes selfless.
But he will not break; he will go on…

So how do you break a man?

You break his heart.
The heart that allows him the freedom to accept the ideas and impressions that reality has placed so willingly into his mind. The heart that allows him to see and hear what it yearns for most in combination with the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. The heart that gives him the strength to place his heart on his sleeve and risk it all on a leap of faith into a jungle composed of cactuses known as “heartbreak”.

You cover the heart behind his eyes in the emulation of an eclipse, desaturating each color into nothingness. Without his sight, he loses track of what he was looking for. Tears flow from behind his eyelids as he loses the treasure he has spent a lifetime in search of.
And you break his heart…

You leave him isolated with nothing but the mirages conjured from the depths of his loneliness for company, and his heart will grow deaf. The slow beating will dawdle to a deafened thud as the repeated whispers of despair in his head torment him. He covers his ears in hopes that it would protect him from his own demons…but it doesn’t.
And you break his heart…

You take away the strength of his heart to beat for “the one”, and he withers away. Without the passion that courses through his veins, his mind becomes numb and paralysis runs its course. He becomes doubtful of his strength to go on and his weakness overcomes him, rendering him a pathetic shadow of himself. A shadow in search of a way out of the abyss he has fallen into on his race to the one he had fallen for.
And you break his heart…

You allow his own thoughts to torture him into submission. With no way to escape, he attempts to hide inside the bubble he had built, thought it only serves to keep him imprisoned in his own misery. In his own mind, his past circles him in shifts of regrets and “should-haves” and “would-haves” and “could-haves”. Memories upon memories begin to stack on top of each other in a macabre image of pain as he relives each moment he despised, as they continually flash through his mind. Without somebody to hold him in an embrace meant to comfort, he remains solitary within a sea of his own tears located inside of himself.
And you break his heart…

You break the heart that keeps him attached to the world. The heart that grounds him in reality. The heart that acts as his tether to the universe. Without it, he becomes a broken vessel incapable of reciprocation. The act of falling in love becomes the accidental injury dealt to his soul. As he himself falls in love, his heart plummets though the air at the same pace he has raced towards her. And when it makes contact with the rejection she issues, it shatters into fragments that are strewn across the landscape of his psyche. Constantly, the throbbing pain in his chest serves as a reminder of her…and he is left broken.

How do you break a man?
You break...his heart.

Based on "How to Break a Man" by Vince Ticsay

IDon'tPlayGames

I don’t spit game because I’m not in it for the scrimmaging. I’m in it to make a dynasty. I’m not looking for something like the Golden State Warriors that just make a quick run. I’m trying to build a long term team that’s a lot like MJ and Pippen for the Bulls in the 90’s, Magic and Kareem for the Lakers in the 80’s, Bill Russell and Bob Cousy for the Celtics and the Green Bay Packers in the 60’s. The New York Yankees in…forever. Lance Armstrong and his last testicle. I’m in search of the girl that would have us next in line like the New England Patriots.

I don’t play games, not the type to post up the big man and just drive into the hole…I’m not LeBron James. I can’t just send my ball into that dark hole everybody’s aiming for…I’m pretty damn far from a Tiger Woods. I can't hit a home run with her whenever I want to...I'm not Barry Bonds on steroids. I’m a Manning or a Favre waiting for the perfect moment to make that one play that means the most. I move the chains down the field for what I consider a touchdown, but really, it’s just something tiny like getting her name. Something that could probably win one game, but is downplayed because it’s a combination of a lot of little things that add up to a dynasty like her and I. A constant duet in mental contact while everything else around us goes at lightning speed. Sharing thoughts at the speed of Mario Andretti and Michael Schumacher and understanding every movement the other makes when she sends me messages like passes, she's my John Stockton and I'm Karl Malone. And if you mess with my partner I'll have you end up like Isaiah Thomas. Or watch me turn Super Saiyan like Michael Phelps.

They say good communication on the field can do wonders…but lately we’ve been playing on opposite teams too many times and off on the sides, I am constantly offsides because all I want to do is be closer to her. Though, all I want to do with her is just lay back and kick it...like Lionel Messi. But the blueprints to my plans always end up messy and deranged when I forget to take her reactions into account. I can't make plays, because I lack the necessary awareness of her feelings, going for a cross check to check if she feels the same way I do, but I end up blindsiding myself on the collision her "No" makes with my ego. Then fate gives me the yellow card, I guess I should have paid attention to that fair warning.

But I was too slow to react like...I was Shaq, being led by the misconception that he could actually do things outside of basketball. But instead he released 4 albums, 3 movies and a video game..all of which were crap. So I'm wishing I was Usain Bolt quick to realize the errors I was making before the final stretch. But I digress.

Off the snap, I read the defense around her heart…trying to find a way to bypass what was left behind by each guy that was there before me…going for the Hail Mary pass past the cockblocks and strong-armed defencemen she calls her friends and family I…leap the line of scrimmage like Priest Holmes in the hopes that I will be able to get seven points on the board. Seven digits out of the millions of numbers in the world that would lead me to a conversation with her beyond the confines of the field we are both playing on. But unlike her, I am an undrafted lower classman coming to prove myself to an entire league of players that are out of my league. Because I’m a nice guy…too much like a rookie Andrea Bargnani and the opposite of an Ocho Cinco-type cocky bastard that just garners attention.

In due time, I tell myself to take a break. I've been thinking of nothing but her non-stop and I can't even see when the offseason is supposed to start. Calling a timeout, I take some time out to clear my mind of every doubt I have ever felt about how we would end up. With a pep talk from my friends, I get my head back in the game and my ears back to listening intently to every word that comes from her mouth, hoping that something would spark a second wind. This is all-star break and the stars break apart in the night sky into comets and falling stars that I wish I could see with her by my side, wishing for more time in which I could convince her to spend more time by my side. Then I realize that I've been bending over backwards for her. You could basically describe my efforts as a guy in a gorilla suit jumping on trampolines and doing backflips to dunk a ball to appeal to the crowd. I'm the halftime show during my own halftime break, so it turns out that I can't get a reprieve from this girl that just keeps tugging on my heartstrings. The break I need is replaced with more work on my part, when I sorely need it. I mean, give me a break!

Constantly, I try my hardest like I’m the star in a montage of sports clips…but all I’m doing is sitting on the bench. Because nobody goes for the nice guy…There ain’t never been a clip of good sportsmanship shown on SportsCenter or ESPN…but I’ve seen Pedro Martinez throwing Yankees manager Don Zimmer on the ground. And there never been a highlight of a bunch of people hugging it out…but I’ve seen BJ Penn turn Joe Stevenson into a bloody mess. I’ve never seen two people sharing a win during a big event…but I’ve seen Mike Tyson bite off a piece of Evander Holyfield’s ear.

Now I know I haven’t been in a fight in years…but this one specific girl’s got me feeling so battered and bruised from the inside out, I’m internally bleeding out emotions in place of pain and I’m spitting out these words instead of blood. It’s heartache with a fracture hidden beneath the muscles that pump blood through my frame, reacting when she pump fakes a reciprocation of affection. Repeatedly, I've grown to resemble Perdita Felicien as I've failed to hurdle the obstructions in my path as I've attempted to race to her.
She has me feeling that I am only a pawn in this constant cycle of support…only there because I’m able to lift the weight of the world off of her shoulders on a daily basis because I LIVESTRONG like a bodybuilder in the form of a Tour de France champion. I took the place of her strong safety…calling audibles to provide her relief in the later innings on an evening through the audio in a phone call. But with the threat of overtime looming, I’m overcome with fatigue as the minutes I have logged in have piled on to render me useless…which isn’t really saying much.

And I don’t play mind games.
Even before we played off of each other’s emotions in these playoffs, I’m already in the right state of mind fit for an empire…that I’ve built like the Jefferson Starship, but instead of rock and roll I have built this city on a sea of tears and toil collected through the years I’ve spent looking for her. Then the years it’s taken her to notice me…then the infinity it’s going to take us to get together. All in the hopes that she will sit beside me as the Queen of Hearts...my heart. Then I can be the King like the Sacramento team when they had Webber and Stojakovic.

She’s a lockdown defender, able to negate every attempt I’ve ever made to catch her eye or ask her out to dinner and a movie. Don’t ask me how she did it…but she’s got my heart locked and cuffed to her wrist. Now that’s what you call a cardiac arrest. With no more timeouts left, I have no choice but to accept the penalty..unable to challenge the decision she has made with the aid of her coaching staff, a.k.a. her friends. Neither can I plan an offensive and change her opinion, because her parents have created that for her.

The whistle’s blown, now the flag’s on the ground and the official’s made it official, that me and her will never be official. So the game is done, the dynasty will never happen and I’m about to retire without ever setting foot on the court…fielding postgame questions during the interview they ask why I chose to give up. And I state the sad facts…
In 35 attempts I’ve come close to a completion only twice and those two were free throws willingly placed in my lap but taken away by the smug hand of fate because I chose to ignore what was right in front of me the whole time. Too late in the game did I choose to get serious and with all the fouls I committed in those crucial months, I have clearly fouled out in trying to sign my MVP onto my future dynasty. And that’s why…I don’t play games.

TheSimplicityOfItAll

I can't believe I haven't figured it all out yet..

On the other hand I just figured out my outfit..

A splash of color to brighten up the bland..

Put my iPod on repeat and tune up the band..

An influx of claps, kicks and bass in my eardrums..

An intake of emotions yet my fingers near numb..

Block out discomfort with time for reflection..

Trying to decipher every inner conviction..

Every answer I've hidden from myself..

How I've played every hand you've dealt..

Why I fell for you, why I can't move on..

Why I still try though you're already gone..

I've made the greatest discovery possible..

One that makes the Rosetta stone seem laughable..

I'm a gentleman that's really quite affable..

Facing a prospect that seems impossible..

...

And that's making you love me..

My angel...hold no one else above me..

You are lovely...but that's the discovery..

That's exactly what's impeding my recovery..

A beautiful smile and cute cheeks..

Nice eyes and a sense of style so chic..

Innocent and caring, patient and fun..

Every aspect that makes you my number one..

Intelligence beyond compare..

Yet shy and mature with time to spare..

A pure sense of self that can last forever..

An infectious laugh that makes everything better..

Now I'm wishing for another angel like you..

Knowing that's impossible, so I bid you adieu..

True love is undercover see..

And that is my discovery..

TheDecisionToListen

Everything that happened between you and me was a never ending story doing its best to send me a message that I refused to acknowledge. A message that told me it was impossible for me to hold you in my arms and look into your eyes the way two people destined for each other always did in Hollywood.
But I didn’t want to listen.

Voices in the back of my mind told me to give up and walk away. In convincing tones, phantoms from the inner depths of my mind were telling me to turn around and head in the opposite direction from the way you were inevitably reaching out towards me ,if only to stab my heart with an already bloody knife.
But I didn’t want to listen.

I was never supposed to fall for you but I held on to romantic little fantasies that I thought must happen. Willing my thoughts into creation in order to lose myself in daydreams where you and me turned into us. Without the slightest hint of lust, we were finally together and every single thing in the world fell into place and it was just…perfect.
A world I constructed from my deepest wishes and desires as I imagined you sitting by yourself and thinking of me…though I knew I was only wishing that mental picture into existence. It’s much more likely that I was doing all the work to magnetize two souls and personalities that were destined to be on opposite ends of the universe.
Though I kept telling myself that this was true and you wanted us to be together as much as I did…even more. That there was even the slightest chance that it would work out how I pictured the future with the sun in the sky…and you as the center of my universe.
Time and time again, the truth would drift in to my wandering thoughts…but I didn’t want to listen

Then I persuaded myself to accept reality and I shook the cage that held the inner confines of my sanity and convinced myself to open my ears and listen.
Listen to every little thing I never wanted to hear.
Open up the eyes I closed shut and look in the mirror.
Part my lips and be honest with myself, speaking words that I knew were always true but I decided to hide in the darkest shadows beside an image of you.
Start breathing through my nose and detect the scent of broken dreams and a crushed heart similar to the metallic tang of blood and a hint of wasabi.
Perceive that the chance I was willing to take was never there and I was gambling my future on a cause that never existed with my heart as collateral.
And it hurts even more because you never said you were sorry…and you never will.

Because every little consequence I suffered because of my unreasonable infatuation hurt me as much as it didn’t affect you. Never will you understand how deep each cut the blade of your indifference cut through veins that run deeper than the physical.
You’ll never see me grimace in pain from invisible wounds. And to shed a tear is too much to ask from me as the cold shoulder you gave me has already frozen whatever drop of water would eventually run down my right cheek.

Then I started to pay attention to silent signs you were sending that meant we were never going to be.
Because I always say never, and never ever say forever.
Though I have come to believe that in a past life, I must have surrendered my soul for an eternity of being together with you…if only in my own mind. Though that may sound pathetic…I have accepted it as a part of the world where ‘us’ will always be U and I.
Always apart and never together. But only this time, I’m listening.

OutOfReach

Now I've participated in all the mind games and the heart pains. Moments you had me up in the sky like a drugged up airplane. But it was all a never-ending maze, an eternal journey to find the end. I know I had the time to spend, but I was getting annoyed trying to play pretend. The suspense. Trying to be there for you as a friend, but deep inside I was keeping a deep-dark secret. Shit I would later regret. Wishing I could reside in that space between the left and right hemispheres of your Limbic system. Know what you were feeling and coincide with the rhythm. I spilled out my feelings to you in bulk like Costco. But 700 days later, I finally lost hope. But truthfully. Now I'm just looking for a revelation full of honesty. I just want to know what it is I did wrong, why you don't feel the same way that I do. Had me racking my brain day and night like Einstein looking for a breakthrough. Now it's almost like I hate you. But don't get it wrong, I would still date you. But I'll never be like the way I was before. Fuck the sweet talking and fuck the being nice. It's just not worth it, now I'll try to be concise.

I don't know what started it, or what made it even worse. Maybe all the poems and verses I've rehearsed. Six songs about you all recorded on my computer. But personal experience is one hell of a tutor. They say opposites attract like protons and ions. Now it's mind over matter like the first album by Zion, Eyes can be blinded so I won't trust them again. Keep my heart safely locked in a chest that I'm able to defend. No more wearing my heart on my sleeve since my cuffs are all frayed and it's simply hanging by a thread. No more spending countless hours thinking about you while I'm sleepless in bed. I'm gettting you out of my head. And it's tough to admit, you're a hard habit to quit. But I'm kicking the emotional nicotine out the window and I can begin to omit...The fact that you even exist to the best of my ability. And please believe I say this with great humility. You'll never find another person like me. From Australia with koalas and kangaroos, to Antarctica with penguins and polar bears. And to think, I used to compare your importance to me, like the importance of air. But just to make this all fair, I know you're innocent of any evil intent I can blame you for. It's not your fault you had to close the door. Now, I never thought I'd be listening to a love song and relating it to myself. Much less it would be by N'Sync and how I felt like you put me on the shelf. But I guess I am selfish. "You can call me selfish. But all I want is your love. You can call me hopeless, but I'm hopelessly in love. You can call me unperfect. But who's perfect? Just tell me what do I have to do? To prove that I'm the only one for you. Now what's wrong with being selfish?"

Now amidst of all this renouncing of all my affections for you both past and present...I will tell you everything I never said in your presence. You're one of the nicest girls I've ever met, I could even say you were flawless. But reality slapped me across the face like a cold strike from Lucy Lawless. But I'm only being honest. You fit the mold of exactly what I look for in a soulmate. From personality to your whole face. The cute cheeks, nice eyes and perfect smile. You had my mind and heart whirling 'round and 'round like a turnstile. An infectious laugh that just made my stomach turn and my blood churn. Lesson learned. If someone's too good to be true, they're forever out of reach...

YouBringOutTheCynicalAssholeInMe

You bring out the cynical asshole in me.

The "What the fuck were you thinking?",

The "Personality doesn't count for shit.". The "You're so retarded."

The "I'd give that around a 3."

The "Why are you going out with THAT!?"

The "They're so ugly, go put their head in a paper bag." in me

You bring out the cynical asshole in me.

The sneering figure in the shadows, in me.

The suppressed chuckling at the very mention of the

word love at any moment, in me.

The heartless bastard spreading heartbreak slogans,

Kanye West CD's and cynical poetry, in me.

The eyes wide shut clenching of fists.

Possibly...

You bring out the cynical asshole in me.

The disbelief presenting the ignorance and the insults

leading to carelessness about human emotions, in me.

The douche bag who just doesn't care, in me.

The dislike of romantic prose, plays and songs, in me.

The stone cold glare at passers by.

I think...I think that...

You bring out the cynical asshole in me.

The scoffs, coughs and head shakes due to

the rejection of human sentience, in me.

The disregard for kindness mixed with scorn, in me.

The desensitization of infatuation in me.

The skepticism of emotional warmth.

Maybe...

You bring out the cynical asshole in me.

The questions and the denial of every answer because I

hold contempt for every other living being, in me.

The misanthropic analyzer of every possible outcome

of even the smallest relationship, in me.

The suspicion of the human ability to love.

It might be you...

You bring out the cynical asshole in me.

The suffering from disastrous attempts

then retreating to the safety within myself, in me.

The fear in the opposite sex and as

a result distancing myself even further away, in me.

The disregard and the lack of emotion.

I think maybe, just maybe...

You bring out the cynical asshole in me.

The disbelief of the concept of true love like the kinds

you always see in every Disney movies, in me.

The fear of taking risks and simply playing it safe, in me.

The steady diver in the highest diving board, in me.

The mocking of sensuality...

But even if that all changes...you cannot change me back.

Even if you were Superman and I was Lois Lane...

I'm trapped in a kryptonite cage under depths of kryptonite water.

You cannot save me.

But if another were to rescue me from the abyss.

I could not thank them. I am broken.

I am the pieces of debris scattered all over the pavement.

The result of an accident that has been seventeen years in the making.

Just to be glued back together in a macabre likeness of sensitivity.

I am indifferent.

And all YOU do...is bring out the cynical asshole in me.