She's the kind of girl that laughs at her own jokes.
Not in the way where you are left thinking
she is the center of her own universe
but in a way that makes her the center of yours.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
My friend Murphy knows all kinds of things about everything.
Like the chemical composition of LSD and how to dance ballet.
He told me once that there are an infinite number of universes,
where each possible variation in life has happened and I think
it's kinda funny and I think it's kinda sad
that I'm stuck in this one
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
I am a warped vinyl left in the sun
by your careless hand.
My voice has become so warbled
it's no wonder you can't hear
all of the times I screamed "I miss you"
into that tin can microphone
so many songs ago.
The surface noise has grown louder
than the instruments
and now I know why
you never dust me off
the shelf and play me anymore.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
I'm sorry if this seems long-winded but everything I write is short
because I'm not used to speaking without you cutting me off mid-sentence and I must get these weights off my chest before they crush my lungs
like the pressure that surrounds me as if I'm a deep sea diver
and you are the ocean. I used to liken you to things like that.
The ocean, the color blue, famous women that have courted my heart
from their places in the history books:
Jeanne d'Arc, Bonnie Parker, Amelia Earhart.
But the wars you wages in my name were lost and my name could never rally the troops like God's.
And the banks we robbed never satiated your expensive taste when everything I could offer you was more brass than gold
and for that I am sorry.
I never wanted you to get lost in the ocean. Your plane crashing somewhere in the vicinity of Howland Island where you sent out your last cry for help
and it choked for life in the static of my busted ******* stereo.
I know that this is coming out in pieces and my stream of consciousness
lacks the stillness that Nature tries to instill like a watchful mother
but I can't help the way all of these words and sentences keep bringing
you back to life and I know now that I will never stop
because what can Nature tell me about the way your lips moved
when you whispered my name.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
1) 12 thousand tweets and none of them are substantial. They're becoming less and less about you though. Maybe that's what is substantial about them.
2) Something in the way you wrap sin in worship.
3) I'm an arson waiting to happen, is the funeral pyre really necessary?
4) Writing about you angrily isn't doing it anymore. I want to smash bricks through windshields that used to hold flowers I bought you.
5) Looks like you're not at the bottom of this one either. ****
6) My love has always been leprosy.
7) You're the interlude, not the chorus. But, that's okay I'm a terrible vocalist anyway.
8) She wants to date boys that are self aware and boy did she hit the jackpot.
9) You smile with the grace of grandmothers and I'm a bad boy like your grandpa after the War.
10) Can I cut out your grin and put in on the wall next to my framed poster of Bob Dylan and Charles Bukowski?
11) Trace my outline in chalk when I finally drink myself to sleep. I'm euthanizing the pieces of me that belong to you.
12) If I find you in Heaven won't you be in his arms? If I find you in Hell won't you be my torment?
13) You make me feel as insignificant as God does and I think that says something about prayer.
14) I quit paying my phone bill so I'd quit dialing your number like a suicide hotline.
15) My teeth are rotten like the lies that spill out of my teeth. You find me beautiful and I've never been more self-conscious.
16) Your silence fills my abdomen like daggers and words clot where crimson should flow.
17) Loving you is ************
18) My heart is at a crossroads and you're drowning in dust in the rearview mirror.
19) You prefer the subtle burns. The flames so hot they sever nerve endings when they lick your fingers the way I imagine I would.
20) She sings the body electric and I'm forced to worship her through computer screens and the scratch of needle on vinyl.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 6:08 AM UTC
1) Your heart is so entwined into mine that I'm not sure if it hurts you or me when I pry it out with a crowbar and leave it on your windshield.
2) You're letting boys ****** you sweaty in your backseat and I just want anyone to write about me the way all my blank pages scream about you.
3) I've always been one to root for the underdog and baby we're a million to one shot.
4) You're the Dragon and the Damsel and I'm not sure what to do.
5) You're the draft I've been writing on for months. Art is never finished.
6) I'm wicked and I'm proud, just like every fallen angel.
7) That's not a light at the end of the tunnel. It's your eyes and I think I always knew it was.
8) There is no salvation. There is no damnation. There's only you.
9) And I'm sitting outside the Pearly Gates, cigarette perched in my lips like a crow.
10) Or maybe I'm sitting on the bank of the river Styx, I'm not much of a cartographer and Dante doesn't have time for fools like me.
11) My poetry is a lip-synched prayer and my goddess has turned a deaf ear to them.
12) I was replaced by we and me by us and you wonder why I don't know who I am when you're gone.
12b) You wonder why we don't know who we are when you're gone.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
You are a dinner set for two
and I'm late like always.
The candles have melted into red and white puddles on the tablecloth
like wax seals on the unread love notes
I leave tucked under your windshield wipers.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
There was a story I read to you
from the internet about a man
who paid his dead girlfriend's phone bill
for months after her untimely demise
just to hear the sound of her voice.
You asked me if I'd do that if I were in his place and you were gone.
You're gone now.
And I'm still calling.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
I quit pills the day you left me
on the stairwell.
"Not by choice." I hear you say
in my ear, in my phone, in my dreams.
I quit crying about you that day too.
By choice.
But your name is my favorite drug.
Not just the sound of it,
the way each syllable hits my veins
like whiskey fire, but the ritual of it.
The way it feels rolling across my tongue.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
There isn't a building tall enough
to jump off in this town.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC