Not a moment passes by that I don't miss you
Your warm touch,
The feeling of being safe,
Right where I belong
I long for you,
I miss your face
The way you made me feel like everything would be alright,
The laughs we shared-
I felt would last
Now I'm lost, forever more,
In our memories,
I need you here, I need you near
Don't leave my heart without your love.
When i see that bolt turn on
I'm excited, afraid, and somewhat confused
Like i'm excited that first of all i got a like
that my poetry might've spoken to a soul out there
that you know i got a like...
i'm afraid of letting success go to my head...
i'm afraid of the torment that i am capable of
afraid of "dependation"
like idk its a personal thing.....
but i'm somewhat confused because i'm a pretty weird ass soul
....and i've never fully been content with myself like right now i love myself but i'm always wishing for better...
and there's a belief in my mind that everyone's out to get me
that i just don't belong anywhere
and i don't know if i'm ok with that....
it's so surprising when i find people who still talk to me
when i say something outta the norm, stupid, when i dress cray cray
but i guess those people are out there
...and i want to thank you for tolerating me
and accepting me
though i’ve never smoked a cigarette
i’ve always loved the smell of tobacco.
it reminds me of shows in seedy concert halls
and the gum my father chewed to get sober
minty-fresh nicorette replacing the scent
of the wine that imbued his every breath.
i recall my grandpa, the way he sat on the porch, surrounded
by nana’s garden, listening to the songs of birds
the stub of his last cigarette, poised between frail fingers.
as it withered, he withered with it.
their walls stained yellow from the nicotine
like some vintage sepia photograph.
through synesthetic memories, i can taste the
way cigarette smoke wafted through the summer air when
my friends and i sat on our back porch, reminiscing,
nostalgia suffocating, tightening its grip like a vise about our windpipes.
i’ve never even smoked a cigarette
but they always remind me of who i used to be
before i lost what was left of my innocence.
we are what
we pretend to be
caricatures of recycled
images and refashioned
motifs masquerading without
pretense of originality
carbon copies in dazzling relief
spun through cycles of roguish
you are what you Tweet
we've seen enlightenment dawn
and watched god die while
the planet relay-raced about
a decaying sun
children of the Digital Age
words are less than wind
they are fingertips tapping
lackluster and vain
we run our mouths
while the world burns
here's more Tinder for
the fire of distraction
GoFundMy upstart disaster
vegan hippie child of nature
punk anarchist activist
academic film enthusiast
novelist critic intellectual
psychologist pathologist anthropologist
will we practice a
discourse on delusion
or find solidarity with Sisyphus?
we are what
we pretend to be
when i was seven
i asked my mother if all dogs went to heaven
because i wanted to be sure that
i’d see old Buddy up in the clouds
once he’d passed on
she told me that i would
she said in fact
all dogs do go to heaven
but my mother had a
penchant for canines
so i secretly wondered
whether or not that was true
then i asked her if my friend Adam would be there too
since he was Jewish and Jews aren’t allowed
to go to heaven
for this had left me so confused
how could god
let dogs into heaven
but abandon all
she told me in no uncertain terms that
there was only one way
one truth and
and that one way
one life came through Christ
which was funny
was Jewish too