Hurts So Good

He had a long day at work
she has been waiting from him to get home all day...
"Come on baby, take a ride with me
you climb the stairs,
I'll climb the sheets.
The blanket's twisted up in my feet."
The rest could be censored by the FCC.
Their passion screams,
even louder and longer than she...
She gets a numb feeling in her toes
her lips EXPLODE...
His palms are sweaty,
her naked body exposed,
he throws on the comforter to shelter her from cold.
She gently squeezes him between her thighs,
it hurts SO good sometimes, not just tonight.
He gives one final thrust, one final fake pose
her mouth wide open, but eyes tightly closed.
Finally, the deed is done...
off goes dad to pick up his son.
He'd been at soccer practice all night,
now it's time to go home to the woman that's actually his wife.......

One Man Band

I was just freaking out because I misplaced my chap stick and it feels like the dead of winter outside.
Then I found a fresh stick in my school bag and it actually kind of made my day.
These be kissin' lips... not rock solid, but not so soft, a kiss would not be felt by another.
I would say they are just right...
Anyways, off my lips and on to the topic at hand,
ITS SO HARD TO BE A ONE-MAN BAND!
I write and write and write
until I can't write anymore
I play and play and play
but all the sounds I make bleed together as if it were all the same.
If only I had a drummer
my music could have a backbone
If only I had a second guitar player
my strumming could set the tone.
If I only had a keyboard player
I wouldn't have to make all the sounds myself
If I only had an accomplished bass player
to give the music itself the blues.
But there is one thing I would not change, regardless if I am good or not,
I would still want to sing.
My lyrics are my my lyrics
The messages in them, I want to bring.
My thoughts crystallized from pain to paper,
So much more than "I love her, I hate her."
From mind to mouth,
from head to led,
From heart to acoustic,
music born at the foot of my bed.
What do I do when I am bored in class?
I write songs and poetry until enough time has passed.
I want to be the one to sing their tune,
Whether they hurt, comfort, or are not even about you.
I don't write to rhyme,
the words chose me as to deliver their message.
And deliver their message I shall,
Whether by myself, with a full orchestra, or just a few close friends.
All I want is to make music that people use as their away messages
or sing in the shower,
One song or two to just relate to,
to engulf one's hour.
Something to stick...

I Want To Know...

I want to know what it's like to be innocent,

even sometimes right.

I want to know what it's like to solve and not just "start" a fight.

I want to know what it's like to be apologized to

and not just keep saying sorry to you.

I want to know what it's like not wanting to die,

rather to feel alive for this first time since Christ died.

There is no method to my "madness"

I spread my thoughts out, stop to think... then resume

only skipping lines for effect, or is it affect; I always get the two confused.

My hair doesn't look quite right;

I put on a few L-B's;

I've invented a new condition specially suited just for me,

I call it OCADHD.

Fuckin' mouthful, huh?

But that's all me on the outside;

hop on the Magic School Bus with the cheery, red-haired lady and take a trip inside.

You won't find any light bulbs going off or dirty thoughts running a marathon in my mind,

you'll find...

me.

If you take the time (something noone apparently has) to get to know me, I mean the real me;

you'll realize in the first ten minutes that I'm not like other people. Guys especially.

I am a mild-mannered young man

with a temper just the same.

I look at girls, women if you will,

as an honor, not a game.

I never toy with emotions,

I treat women with respect.

I'll remind you that you're gorgeous

every night before you rest.

Now all I can do is sit around and wait,

I've tried in the past to get what I want, but now I have to hesitate.

Its not that I'm afraid of rejection,

I've gotten to know it over the years, I still don't like it,

I've tried and tried to get the girl,

but the feelings were unrequited.

Same SHIT, different day.

Keep on trucking...

Quitting is harder to break than a bad habit.

It's a snowball a or e ffect; again, I believe it's the latter (shame I can't just go with emphasis).

I'm just me... Greg... with only one "G" at the end

I won't rush into anything because you can't be lovers without first being friends.

You can't make love if you're not in it first...

But you can break love

It's hard, but fragile; love breaking rather than love making brings out the worst.

I'm just me... Lover, fighter; whatever you want to call me...

Just remember, my name only ends with one "G"

I Fear I May Be...[Insert My Shortcomings Here]

Let me set the scene for you...
Imagine Walmart going out of business and the "roll back" smiley face turning upside down;
That would be one hell of a frown.
That is how unhappy I've become.
Sometimes it feels like a sharp needle burrows into my chest like a gopher,
I lose my breath, but I find it in pictures of the "old days."
I stop to remind myself that this pins and needles feeling in my chest may hurt, but it is a blessing in disguise because the needle is filled with air and it fills my lungs back up. It keeps me going, ticking, breathing, living.
But hey,
at least I am breathing.
And until the day I'm not anymore
I'll search the Heavens, search the core.
The Earth may have it boundaries, but I'll overstep them.
A race with fate;
to find the missing piece, like a million-sided puzzle, to complete me.
To end said race.
It's not a race down the alter, I'm not trying to fight the future, I AM somewhat scared to die...
What if God forgets about me?
See, now I'm rambling...
Sorry about that! I'm still a young kid, only 20, my path of life is still a long one, but I can still see the finish line; I just have to learn that every race, even life, has a finish line.
Back to my original point and purpose; what was it? Oh, yeah! I remember! My unhappiness! YAY!
I was always taught that misery loves company,
so why won't anyone comfort me?
I'll cheer up; fuck it, I AM happy.
Why be so down? Its so much easier to smile than frown; fuck Walmart! Frowning hurts the corners of my mouth.
There are SO many things I want to before it's my time...
One. Write a musical
Two. See the Flyers win Lord Stanley's Cup
Three. Get married
Four. Have kids...
I fear I've become to vague and unoriginal at this point.
If anyone out there has a few minutes to spare, send them my way. Twenty four is just not nearly as many hours as I need in one day.
I love the rain, Canada and curly fries...
if anybody else out there does as well, then it looks like God remembered me after all!
I deserve to be happy and some girl out there deserves to be lucky. You know who you are...
And I know who I am...
rambling, vague and unoriginal... Any takers?