I meander and malinger
As physically as mentally
No idea where I'm going
Just knowing
I feign this pain
Partaking in pernicious poison
Voraciously devouring venom
to keep you away
It's not fair to you
to stumble with a broken leg
while trying to guide you.
I've no map, no motivation
You deserve a dancer
with perfect poise
To lead your feet and body
While I meander and malinger
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
The smoke and vapor permeates
through the room
Before it dissipates
into the air and out the window
from a thick fog
to a gossamer
to nothing
I was fine with the atmosphere
You said you were choking
That I was smothering you
Which didn't help my cigarette addiction
I kept falling for you harder
I mean smoking harder
So you turned on the fan
and you opened the window
Like you forgot I got addicted
by smoking with you
When you were in love as much as I was.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 4:29 AM UTC
I am
Eternally exasperated
Frequently frustrated
Incessantly irate
Perpetually perturbed
Awfully ambivalent
Forever fickle
Frustratingly finnicky
Laconicly labile
Madly mercurial
Virulently volatile
And every other ******* adverb, adjective alliteration
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
I've been burning cigarette incense to ward off the hunger spirits
I've been drinking pure poison to try to **** the butterflies in my stomach
I've been relying on saying cheap cliches and terse, trite platitudes to avoid speaking of how I really am
I've been trying to stitch words together to make constellations or at least to make sense of everything or anything
I've been sleeping in the oddest of places if at all
I've been aching
I've been wasting money and myself
I've been better than this.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
I'm not Bukowski
I don't care what you say
I'm not Bukowski
You never said I was but I don't care
I'm still not Bukowski
No, it's not pretentious to compare myself to him
I can say I'm not Bukowski
I don't write poems about degrading women while I ****
I'm just brushing my teeth in a gas station bathroom
Thinking about this poem
Or whatever it is
Thinking about you
I miss you emotionally and sexually
And I'm drunk
But I'm still not Bukowski
**** I wish I was
He'd know how to end this
I have no idea how to end this
Poem
These feelings
I'm not ******* Bukowski
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
I stopped smoking
In case you were wondering
I don't know why you would
But I did
I still remember the last time I did it
It was that night
You were there
I think about that night more than you do
How it went,
Should have gone,
You were
Crying about some one else
I just listened
I watched the smoke
Thinking it wasn't delicate
But dangerous
It reminded me of you
Tonight I'm really ******* craving a cigarette
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
I feel like there is rocks in my aorta
There is sediment blocking my capillaries
There is pebbles filling my lungs
There is sand irritating my eyes
There is gravel eroding up my esophagus
There is a landslide coming out of my mouth
There is an earthquake rattling my stomach
There is a boulder weighing down my mind
There is a hole in me no mountain can fill
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
I'm not good with words
they always come out wrong
but I'll write you a poem
because you keep me supported like my unswept floorboards
you have that wonderful smell of old ***** books
I want us to get together like cars merging into one lane of traffic
You're prettier than a third grader's sloppy cursive
You have a shine kinda like how people shine after sweating in the heat
you're more attractive than an icecream truck to suburban little kids
Your eyes are greener than lettuce
and your voice is more captivating than ****** pop music on the radio
Here's your poem
I told you I'm no good with words so yeah I'm not sure how to end this
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 1:45 AM UTC
288
I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!
How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
I secretly sat at your secluded spot on the lake
I languidly listened and watched the Sunset
writing this while I cease to worry
because I was wrong.
They were wrong when they pigeonholed
you in black and white as one toned ordinary
when you're really vivid shades of hazel
More than meets the eye & captivating
as many shades as in the Sunset
I've been watching from your spot.
Colour me interested because I want to see what hue we'd make mixed together
Yours would compliment and supplement mine
into a vibrant tone
brilliant enough to paint a whole canvas
with the full spectrum of our shades in our union.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC