How Bad Is It To Learn How To Love?

How Bad Is It To Learn How To Love?





When was the last time that
you have loved and lost,
and truly learn
its real, real cost?



(Utter feelings we kept the most.)



Is there a kind of an exit plan in
this lonesome strife,
something that we'd
cherish through life?



Let, therefore, our choices be
the wisest,
Hoping to see us live it through
the longest



We tend to love the ones we
have loved more (and more),
more so, that we sometimes
have lost control, until no more.



(Utter feelings we kept the most.)








Loner Part 1

He was a loner who always sat down contemplating fantastical adventures that occurred on the pages of a comic book

He compares that to his life and scoffs at the contrast compared to his own

Feeling that his existence is some sort of punchline and whenever he reads a comic and realizes the dualism is the hook

Admiring the strength of the heroes on the page and then realizing his own weakness often led to him expressing his rage

He idolizes them and tries  to emulate their heroic accomplishments 

He is an optimist but not one who has grandiose dreams and narcissism is a term that could never be applied to him 

He believes that a good deed no matter how small was significant because he couldn't fly, knew better than to contaminate himself with anything vaguely radioactive and his mental faculties are not up to par with Peter Parker and far less than mr fantastic or Bruce Banner

He believed that no matter the insignificance of a good deed still had some worth and is quantifiable irrespective of what it accomplished

He believes a smile or a "thank you" from one person holds the same worth as recognition his idols receives 

He tried to associate with some of his peers and most either looked down on him for his simplistic and "childish" outlook on the world and his antiquated sense of morality

He accepted their criticism on what he loves without any response to provocation or anger because that is what his idols would do and instead channels it. He channels it not into rage and resentment but into focus and determination

He knows that in all probability he would not reap rewards for what he does or believes in and the motives for peoples actions and behaviours would not Change solely due to his actions

He knows that his antagonizers would not receive their comeuppance in the foreseeable future but still he preservers

Some may wonder what his motivations are and why he tries to be unbreakable despite all the interconnected cracks that decorate his souls and provide stories without words for all the abuse he has endured

He doesn't give up because that's not what the Black Panther would do, Nightwing would never give up and Barry Allen would not give up in the face of insurmountable odds

There are periods when his heroes are beaten to the ground and are drained both physically and emotionally and they never succumb to the futility of their actions nor do they crumble under the weight if the trials and tribulations they face 

So neither will he

Sometimes he imagines that he too is the product of the imagination of someone who puts their life and struggles on paper and if there is any semblance of truth in that

He believes that he should be a realistic role model for any readers who may be struggling like he is



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Criticize me :)

My New Best Friend

He’s with me all the time,

We’re practically best friends.

He’s there for me the hard times the most.

He’s the worst friend I’ve ever had,

I regret the moments I introduced him to my life.


He taunts me, provokes me, pushes me,

He ruins me.

He turns me, frustrates me, rushes me,

He makes me.


I struggle to get him out of my life,

But he only gets closer.

I try to block him out,

But he only gets darker.


I hate him. But he loves me.

I wish him out of my life with the little passion he’s left me with,

But he remains around me,

As if his sadistic job was to torture me through this period of my life,

I loath him for this resulting strife.


I’m told one day he’ll die,

And rather than suffering in perpetuation,

I will caese the constant struggle towards evasion,

But his ghost may haunt my internal abrasions,

I wish his death would hasten…


I know he’ll die eventually.

Being left with his sporadic memories.  

The Answer to the Only Question That Truly Matters

At night, I stumble from my car to the house

Stumbling, tripping, shuffling my feet

I’m not drunk. It’s not dark

I’m starkly sober and it is bright

I’m looking up. Who could look elsewhere?

The source of the brightness in the night

The sea that we swim in

The galaxy opens up and swallows me

I want to be nowhere else

And yet I’m already there

We all are

Spaceship earth, interstellar travel to nowhere in a seemingly endless orbit

Cycling a star that will one day consume us

All of that space, all of that wondrous possibility

My mind aches just thinking of it

I cannot comprehend although I try

Awe and loneliness

Could it really be only us?

I feel cheated and so should you

Our deaths will rob us of the answer

To the only question that truly matters



Could it really be only us?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is the first thing I've written in a very long time. I can never get my head out of the stars and I am forever trying to articulate the tightness I get in my chest when I feel that I'll never know what's out there. I want to write more, I wrote this very quickly. I just need somewhere to start so hit me with some critique! 

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Never-Ending Story

I really do want to believe it's all here,

That it's real, and that it is as great as everyone thinks it is,
Strong and indestructable,

Powerful with meaning and substance,

So that I too, exist here, but why?
These objects made of wood, steel and concrete, glass and fibers,
Clawing an scratching at my spirit day and night,
Begging for my touch to make them real,
And walls, walls, walls, that separate,
Real as this figment of my own imagination
Who I call myself, the existential being I believe I am,
The objects speak in tongues,
And languages unheard of
But understood with senses forbidden
And cast away from what man has deemed to be 'real',
And objects, material objects, jumping out at me,
Talking teapots, spoons and candlesticks,
From stories out of the depths of another's inner world,
Jumping into my world! How dare they come without knocking!
What is it they want? What are they asking?
"We are here just like you", they said,
"Why do you want to be here?"
So I replied, "Why do I want? Maybe I should just be!"
And so from then on I began to just be.

In case I should ever again need a shrink,
I shall first consult the kitchen sink.


4:21 AM 4/18/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The illusion called life.

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witrhout God

short poems

since infancy my destruction began

questioning God, have i been bad?

the love i give never returns to me

the lines we crossed could not be seen

even in crowds i feel so alone

cuz all my life i've been on my own

i've never known anyone i can trust

friends i've made punched me in the gut

the only time i had a family

they made it clear they never wanted me

my tainted heart beats through the cold

this inconsistancy is growing old

exactly what point did God give up on me

i'm not like Him cuz i still believe

Author's Notes/Comments: 

june 3, 2009. i felt really alone that day

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I Wished


I wished I could go to Easter Island

to see the top-hatted statues stare

until I read somewhere

pirates stole slaves from there

I wished I could go to Tibet

spinning prayer wheels in town square

until I learned their prayers

went nowhere

I wished I could go to Las Vegas

rent a room at any cost

until I learned my fate would change

with all the money I lost

I wished I could work in a hospital

patients were cared for there

until I read the money ran out

and the bosses lied without care

I wished I could go to India

to see the Taj Mahal

until I learned that love

was not fair at all

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path of self discovery


this misdirected moment

let's the confusion set in

some truth filters through

as clarification begins.

some sort of choice

will eventually surface

but you're too clueless

to understand real acceptance.

why do you worry so?

i can take care of myself.

there's no guilt in my actions,

at least nothing to tell.

it's time to give into the idea

that i don't really need you.

i've made it this long

on what i've learned to be true.

my knowledge gained thus far

hasn't been handed to me.

i've earned each of these scars

from lessons forced upon me.

why do i feel so alone

on a planet swarming with insects

eating away the evidence

of a world that should've existed.

allowing ghosts of the past

to suffocate any hope of the future,

ripping away at the spirit,

misleading the mindless and unsure,

promising castles of gold in the clouds

for the blind and faithful to follow

or damnation in a flaming eternity,

leaders caught in the shadows and swallowed,

enveloping any orignial ideas

in desparation and fear,

choking away the messages

meant for the meek ones to hear.

the path is laid before me

offering directions of the lost

of the travelers who've come before me

and all the souls that it cost

while all along the sides

rests undiscovered land

waiting for a rebellious soul

to create a virgin path.

never step in someone else's prints.

don't do as the others do.

be not afraid to know yourself

to learn the truth about you.

don't be so quick to fall in line

since the end is always the same.

seek the answers and question everything.

don't be catagorized by your name.

your ancestors got it all wrong.

did they pass on anything real?

the next generation is even further

from knowing exactly what to feel.

over the last hundred years

all human connection has faded,

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i dunno man... i was way high. i think i lost my point at some point. may have even changed subjects. it's really friggin long though. my longest work yet. even longer than the trilogy which i haven't posted yet. dec. 17, 2009

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Love is not as simple as life

Breathing is natural

Heartache should not be

Connections lost by dusk

And by dawn there is no memory

A night of contentment and deception

A time to be forgotten

tear down these walls

and hope for the new day

Carry on dwelling and remember nothing

I don't care what you have to say

I don't need to know what you think of me

I like who I am, and I know where I should be

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written in 2005

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