My head hurts, my sight struggles with vision
Quietly i loose consciousness.
My heartbeat breaks, i am choking
Shamefully i loose myself in thoughtfulness.
I sit and watch my hands transform
my thoughts to written words--
How proudly I deny honest truths
a little space in my deluded forehead
And how desperately I cling to life
scared I might just now draw my last breath.
Such is the complete state of man;
When sickness brings him to the brink of death
he remembers the unkind odds that lent him life
But when he is strong and able
he remembers himself immortal.
floating through the sky
you are, you are, you are(...)
(bitter tastes are filling my mouth
but the acidic poison makes my tongue glow
glow glow in the dark.)
one plus one is two.
a real number.
me minus you is an imaginary number.
(it doesn't exist, but someone created
a way to make it exist.
i'm forced to exist
by the rules of life.)
you are a baby bottle boy
and i'm a pacifier princess
we can't both be in the same place
at the same time.
(maybe i'm wrong)
So a person is gay, so they have to "have their way"
With a simple ring, pizza or cake, a legal wedding day,
Doing things that straight people do everyday.
So a person is black, so they have to "vandalize,"
Even if in a decent non-violence as they demonstrate.
Remove the "threat," gang up on them even if
"Black Lives Matter" is all they were there to say.
So a person is an anti-war hippie, don't listen to them,
Instead go to war EVERY time and "make the world
A better place," especially for our children!
So a person is eccentric, "a dreamer," they have no right-of-way,
You're in this so-called free country,
Leave all of your dreams, your goals, your hopes
At home or take them to another MORE LIBERAL
Country to stay.
Here's my poem about stuff that happens
Especially when you're sitting there in front of
A washing machine bored out of your skull,
You've got the world at your fingertips and
Yet that world isn't really whole.
Of course it's obvious I'm only joking,
This is a great time to be "alive!"
Hug your computer, it'll be your
Best friend, your playmate,
Your GF or BF, it will be your
Sweet 16, your toy your prideful
Joy, it will take you to places far
And wide and never leave your side.
HOORAY! We all get to die without
Having truly LIVED LIFE!
Within mixed company one might apprehend
Renouncing of truths which encumbers the world
Symptomatic social submission dyspepsia trend
Peripheral Cocktail conversations’ knurl
With premeditated segments pre-portioned for digestive ease.
Rambling thoughts, forego the shadows from which they unfurled
Blend they do into the abstract of popular sedition.
Modern life’s pace set to the speed of delusions,
Which shatters the barriers, setting free dangerous silent admissions.
From their recesses, where quiet hatred echoes hidden in hushed undertones,
Fed by the collective self interests’ of defensive conclusions,
The camouflage of fallacies, woven into faces we see..
You deserve more than a 2 am message, but it's all that I can muster right now.
I am drunk and scrolled through Facebook only to stumble upon a picture of you and the woman you now care about.
Believe me when I say that I want the best for you.
I mean this. Every word.
I want you to be happy.
I also mean this.
I want you to have people in your life that can love you to the fullest extent.
But I also wish you could feel the calcifications that have built up around my heart since we broke up. I have become more solid, harder to crack but easier to hurt.
I saw the picture of her. She’s stunning, and I know she means more to you than you’re letting on right now. And that’s okay.
She is also a direct reflection of me. Brown eyes, brown hair, with a brain that finds you so beautiful that she’ll spend hours just studying the curvature of your lips.
You deserve so many things, you deserve happiness, you deserve unconditional love, you deserve someone who understands all of the nuances of your growth and change, and I hope that she does that for you. I know you hate that word, but it’s the truth.
I still don’t understand why you don’t like the word ‘deserve’. I’ll just chalk it up to your hipster bullshit poetry.
I will not see you when you come back to town, and you won’t see me (please don’t try to persuade me otherwise).
Showing up would mean going to a knife fight empty handed. It would be my slow and painful destruction.
Take full advantage of the time you have in Boston. See all of the people that mean a lot to you, deepen your connections, and build your roots, but they can’t include me. I need to build my own roots.
For too long my thoughts and plans have been entangled in yours, long past when they should have been. This isn’t your fault and I should have worked to untie those knots faster.
Live your life. Enjoy Morocco. Take in all of the experiences you can.
But part of me does hope you get food poisoning at one point.
I know that you will accomplish so much, and I’m so proud of everything that you’ve already done. Your heart is so solid and so full of love and gratitude and I know it will serve you well.
I wish this was a lie. You are clumsy but still have so much to learn. It is also near impossible not to notice how far you've come.
This is one of the hardest things I have ever done, but if you care about me at all, you will give me this space
Last resort. I have done everything short of moving halfway across the country to get over you, but the hard thing about trying to ‘make it work’ after a break up is that I am still there to witness all of your triumphs, regardless of geography.
I am trying really hard to be strong and take a step in the direction that is right for me.
Take care of Edith.
(Please don’t almost kill our plant this time)
But most importantly take care of yourself.
Regardless of what happens with you and the girl in the photo.
You have so much to offer the world.
And I hope your world is someone who gives you just as much in return.
Please don’t forget that.
Please don’t forget me.
I took it in hand it bled my pain, crimson ink
was entombed on each stroke my torment spilt
with ever increasing momentum.
But you can only bleed so much before you run
dry and emaciated your mind slowly puts that
red inked pen down, you bled enough on the page.
But now the thoughts have died, your wanting
to bury this that was ill conceived. Truths that
your mind thanks but your eyes cant handle truth.