for have you not known by now,
the person standing in front of you,
became a mad poet, with deranged
semantics and demented letters,
offered to convey a lover’s
delusional affections.

You’re a wolf -
A connotation.
You’re a breed
of imitation.

You’re a guise
among the sheep.
Snagging lambs
while they’re asleep.

Your smile sings
with consonance -
but your howls vibrate
with dissonance.

You’re a liar
with eyes of fire -
The termination
of my desire.

You sparked a change
in my perception.
You were the Alpha
of pure deception.

i can
conjurer up words
mix delicate
intricacies of verse
with poetic license
i might defecate
upon scripted genius
   of the past
a scourge
on the eloquence
   of perfected prose
a pariah
with semantics
that hang in the air
like a frequented noose
the rhetoric of
this rhetoric
both dumbfounds
   and delights
the agenda of the learned;
to supress
the syntax spat forth
the phlegm and catarrh
of a gut
of derivatives

i could compose
a verse
for young lovers
   to cherish
if i could
only stop
the rot;
genius
   nonsense
      or ignorance
i couldn't
tell you
which

Does anyone know the difference between feeling butterflies and feeling nervous?


Because they’re staring to feel like the same **** thing.

I think I’m in love with you.

You howl across the smartphone speakers
“unstable”
I roar back,
“healing.”
Ah, semantics.

You cling to definitions tighter than static
Your arguments are magnets to my geyser:
stuck, yet I flow on

You build a face for the day,
reinforce it, ready for the wrecking ***** in our vernacular
nothing will shake your perspective
your eyes are glasses to our periscope

The things you’ve been told are just that
and my illness doesn’t make me any less blood and bone
any less ups and downs
any less success and collapse
than you
despite what you’ve heard about depression from some friends or a Facebook post
it’s more than a daily beast
it’s a mountain to climb with only one arm
and I’m on my way to stable footing

You want to attach words like “lazy” and “uncaring” to my identity
go ahead, I pick them off like fleas
they can only drain me for as long as I let them.

I will say “suffering”
you might say “a lil’ sad”
we both sit there, hoping truth blessed us with its language

Only one thing is for certain.
Whatever “it” may be
It.
Won’t.
Stop.
Me.

We are just arguing over semantics,
when we both know that
what I said is true.

I could have said it another way,
but that will not change what is important -
the truth.

Accept this,
or choose to judge the way I speak...
but I am correct.

Do not let emotion
cloud your judgement,
or anger douse what is real.

I may be mean,
while ignorance is bliss...
but I choose to remain above all this.