i stopped in the crosswalk to light a cigarette
then continued on my way down the street
the cars were of no threat to running me over;
they've been still in the streets all day, a traffic
blockade of holiday proportions
and as i stare through every windshield into the
warmth and luxury of the car's interior, I see nothing
but looks of misery, boredom, a sense of stagnant souls
and i began to laugh and smile like it's my ******* birthday
and i smoke my cigarette and become the only thing traveling
down this four way mall highway full of automobiles and people
they roll down their tinted windows and pelt me with their trash,
their negativity, their wasted times, their immobility and weight
and i begin to laugh harder, my smile lines stretching towards heaven.
merry christmas, shoppers!
merry christmas, chumps!
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 5:29 PM UTC
intoxicated again.
holding in alcohol.
vomiting words.
we'll die from the medication.
i'm following your footsteps.
running the race you've already
won by five years, easy.
alcohol again.
vomiting intoxication.
holding in words.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 4:35 AM UTC
this will sound more offensive than I mean it.
knowing that, read at your own risk.
I do not need a big brother as
witness to my life from the sky.
I do not need a ominous figure
watching my every movement.
I am not vain enough to care
about some deity watching me
like a television set, like a rat in
a cage with three trillion others.
I do not need to feel connected to
something higher than myself,
something higher than you, love.
I do not need to shake hands with God,
for I have met love in all her forms.
and in that, I found my religion.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 4:34 AM UTC
keep reading those cue cards governor
keep living in your fake theatrical world
keep your facade of cleanliness and trust
keep SHOUTING your plastic christian ethics
just keep the last cowboy president in mind
the weak always prefer to live on in infamy anyways
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 4:54 AM UTC
but, the fact that police are now
kicking, beating, arresting and bullying
american citizens who wish to make a
change only strengthens the fact that we
really need a ********* change, doesn't it?
or am i the only sane one left?
because that's a scarier thought.
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 4:25 AM UTC
i'll wait for you in libraries
hiding out with all the other
dead romantic writers and
their sorrowful, longing words
i'll wait for you in the night
wandering the dark streets
looking though empty avenues
for any glimpse of your soul
i'll wait for you in a flower shop
in the middle of downtown Portland
where you pick out any combination
of flowers, and still be more pleasant
where do you wait for me, love?
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 4:19 AM UTC
My most monstrous fear that eats at me
(like a mechanic devours his rare, ****** steak)
is that one day I'll wake up and be normal
(normal as mothers publicly yelling at ADD sons)
that I'll lose my gifts, or any real form of expression
(like the misguided lawyer working on Thanksgiving)
that I'll be another faceless statistic in a fat, thick crowd
(normal as ignoring the gifts we've each inherited)
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 5:06 AM UTC
you left sinkholes
in my head
large enough
to ensnare my
wildest, unfiltered
dreams. they're
now trapped in my
mind and lost in the
grey matter.
ashes to serotonin
norepinephrine to dust
ex nihilo nihil fit
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 4:59 AM UTC
the guitar yells at me for not picking him up
the bass hides in the closet, feeling neglected
the drums are hollow and dull now, forgotten
the voice has left my throat, hiding somewhere
the poem disappeared under the weight of words
the paint evaporated much quicker than dried
the thoughts vacated before they ever moved in
the words were lost before even I was founded
the the the the the the the the the the the the the
the art is abandoned by those who can't follow
the lost sounds, ideas, pictures, and madness.
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 3:41 AM UTC
there's a hippie girl waiting for me
in a coffee shop a few blocks up the road.
she has no idea im not coming.
it's fun pretending to be someone else entirely
assuming a new role, backstory, character development
it's like being an actor, except there's no camera capturing
my performance, no crew writing my perfect li[n]es.
so there's a hippie girl in a coffee shop,
and i'll meet her there in a few minutes
and she'll believe that she's met the real me.
meanwhile, that coward can be found hiding.
don't ask where- I'm still looking for him myself.
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 3:31 AM UTC