When I get in these moods
I find so much beauty in decay
there is romance round every corner
in boarded up windows
in smoke rising from burning buildings
in flickering florescent light bulbs of gas station bathrooms
when will I realize, my life is not a ******* film,
a gathering of beautiful moments
be they of joy
or that of decay
no, it contains all bits of time
dark and sorrowful
thrilling and story worthy
tedious and boring
but more often than not, lacking beauty of any sort
but it is so very much like me
to focus exclusively on small details
rather than acknowledge the levity of the entire situation
how it weighs on myself
how it weighs on others
because a family once lived behind those boarded up windows,
before being served an eviction notice
and someone's grandmother's photos were lost in that fire
and the needle in the trash of that bathroom is someone's last and only reprieve from this life
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
I can't help the pieces of him
from falling to my feet with every step I take
I am a ******* wreck of a person
right now
perhaps always
my trivial problems overwhelm me
just as much as the guilt I feel for letting them
whilst watching the migration of the homeless
as winter approaches with bitter ferocity
whilst stepping over the blood soaked carpet
of a friends apartment
trying desperately not to stare too long at stitches
and I still cannot even bring myself to take down
the ******* picture
he gave me
still hanging on my bathroom wall
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 4:35 AM UTC
I wonder helplessly for the fate of lives I've abandoned
for those that once surrounded me
as well as that of my own
like running into an old friend
poking relentlessly
attempting desperately
to paint a picture of
their everyday life
as it stands today
unachievable through means of small talk
I often wonder for the lives my old lovers lead
today
I am coming to terms with the fact that
it is not my place
to care for them any longer
I often wonder where I'd be today
had I chosen to stay
awhile longer
I often wonder
just what it was
about this particular one
that made falling in love
seem worth it
and just how have I managed
to stay this long ?
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
Today it took me two hours
twelve markers
half a roll of paper towels
and seventeen redos
to fill a whiteboard at my place of work
Today I counted steps
in the sidewalk blocks as I walked
1
1, 2
1, 2
1
only having to backtrack and repeat
twice
Today I stood in the tiny wooden doorway
of my apartment's fire escape
for the entire duration of my cigarette
terrified to step foot on the steel grate
all for fear of the lightning in the distance
because after a brief ocular inspection
I was so certain
that there is no god ****** way this building
is up to code in that regard
Today I couldn't help but wonder
what ever has happened in my life
to once again trigger
these neurotic thought patterns
that plague me from time to time
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
It is simply not right
The way the mind can go from a state of complete
apathy
From being so far away
From not giving two ***** if the world around you
happened to disintegrate
To being so enamored with all that surrounds you
be it loved ones
or simply the feeling of fresh September rain
to the point of fear
that all that is good is fleeting
and could happen to disintegrate
in a flash
before your very eyes
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 2:51 AM UTC
I've been losing sleep
this past week or so
despite the fact I could never blame him
for the bags under my eyes
sluggish demeanor
I'd rather be up
sleepless
in my own home
despite the floorboards' creak
in a tiny apartment
with room mate silent
in peaceful slumber
I'd much rather not disturb
all noises heard
with every step
I take to the door
to inhale savory smoke
I'd rather move quietly
in my own home
because at least the cold steel of the fire escape
is soothing in some way
And although he's miles away from
the reasons I struggle to lay my head down
I'd rather be restless on my own
I'd rather be restless alone
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
My upper lip is still tingling from your upper lip's stubble,
and I am feeling nostalgic tonight.
Don't tell me to take care of myself,
I'm not joking when I say I'm looking for ways to
slowly force my body to shut down for good.
This place is a ghost town at this golden hour of 3 am.
I'm killing myself slowly.
I was brought up broken.
Skipping school, long bus rides going nowhere,
flashbacks like picture shows of a young, hopeless hooligan.
When I look in the mirror, I still see that child,
and she haunts me.
I've gotten by, by romanticizing the pain.
Finding beauty in the hard times
bad, ugly, sorrow dripping
hard drugs in bathtubs
like a movie scene before the upswing
and the happily ever after.
Though this life's been a cinematographic goldmine,
I just don't see the conclusion as being so bright.
Forever waiting on that upswing,
and there's simply no happily ever after in sight.
Who knew we'd still survive after so many years of
persistently seeking death ?
I never thought I'd end up here today.
So much has occurred I could've never predicted.
I never thought I'd seek the things I've sought,
There is so much of me that's still very much the same.
I never thought I'd carry this apathy so close all these years...
Who am I to plead remembrance,
when I've consistently chosen the path of least resistance ?
I am nothing.
Perhaps someday I'll fertilize the soil beneath your feet,
in this moment, that's where my aspirations lie.
In this moment, my concerns lie for those who's window lies across from my parking spot where my headlights shine bright as I arrive home at 3 am rather than for my car's broken mirrors or my expired license plate numbers.
Moved out to the suburbs sometime late August,
and in this moment, I'd be lying if I said I didn't often appreciate those long solo drives home in the early hours of the morning.
A tobacco smoke filled vehicle is my go-to place for self reflection.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 5:16 AM UTC
Words, so ever fleeting.
As I lie here, romanticizing memories of all bonds ever formed between myself and another person,
I realize I rarely look anyone directly in the eyes.
Perhaps those moments when I allow myself to do so
make real the emotions that've been evoked.
Words, so ever fleeting,
only moments ago I had the perfect combination of them
to describe the exact same thing I once saw
in every past lover's eyes
that exact same thing
that broke me to pieces.
Now, tonight, in the dim light of 1 am
is a montage of every spark of emotion
that I've ever evoked in a person,
first of love,
second of sorrow.
Now I wonder if I'll ever look another person in the eyes,
or if this realization has concluded said montage for good.
Who am I to seek such refuge in another person
when I can't find such solace in myself?
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 2:55 AM UTC
Sitting at the kitchen table with my father
discussing the importance of the questions
I must ask a dying man.
He says
the answers will die with him, you know.
The answers will die soon, too.
He says,
I am the only one he'd release them to,
the only one capable of fishing out
all those repressed memories
of an only brother
who took his own life decades back.
He strains to put emphasis on a diminishing time frame
choking back tears
for the inevitable loss of his
father in law
the father he chose
whilst I'm flashing back to twenty minutes prior,
discussing his detachment from his own father by blood.
I am sitting at the kitchen table with my father
It's 1 am,
and we are now both choking back tears
discussing the questions I will ask a dying man.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
Images of pills peaking out amidst *****
lying perfectly in a porcelain nest
shining like stars in a still night sky
are flashing before my eyelids tonight.
Memories
I can't shake.
Putting all that I've got into change,
forgiveness,
redemption.
So just how many more mornings
of coffee, cigarettes, and the daily newspaper
how many more mornings will it take
for me to stop imagining my face amongst others
in the obituaries?
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 2:08 AM UTC