Your love was like the Barnum Effect
and though I thought you fit me
like a glove,
I learned you'd been worn
by thousands of other lovers
who'd thought the same exact thing.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
i want to kiss you so bad
that i've been thinking of
making my car kiss guard rails
i know that they would
both feel the same
it would all be over
just as quickly
my mouth would fill
with blood
all the same
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 3:53 AM UTC
There is hate in your love,
and there is violence in your peace.
Who can we trust,
if no longer the police?
There is corruption in your money,
you flaten forests for green paper.
You destroy habitats for land,
yet you claim you will be our savior?
The government pretends to care,
but they just want our income.
when will America wake up?
all we need is a little momentum.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
They say the good die young and that used to scare me but now it just kind of makes me stop and think, and in a year or two, it might just make me smile.
I stopped being good a long time ago.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
Maybe if I drink, I won't remember what I've done - or maybe I'm more frightened by what I haven't done - and I'll start to forget. But ignorance is not bliss, and now I'm drinking to forget why I wanted not to remember what I've done or what I haven't done and now I'm stuck remembering what it is I tried so hard to forget.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
I am wood
You are fire
-scratch that-
You are an exuberant inferno.
There was no doubt in my mind that when I first saw you, I felt the sparks.
When you aproached me, I felt warm, and whenever we talked, I could feel the electricty -scratch that- I could feel the flames.
Then you left, but I was far from help. You set me on fire and then you were gone.
You destroy everyone you meet, leaving nothing but ash and ruin in your path.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
Winter at night is like the sun
has been lost from the sky,
but still seems to light up the heavens.
And the moon is missing,
but you can still find your way
to your darling’s bed.
But I like to think ✺
that the sun ❋ ✲
and the moon ❉
are lost lovers
and winter is the only time
they can escape long enough to
steal a kiss from one another ✺
in some far away galaxy that
no one knows. ❊
And without the moon ❋
to hold control,
the waves go crazy
kissing the shores
aggressively and relentlessly.
And everyone is in love.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
It is my theory
that we are all connected.
From the thread around your finger
to the ribbon on her wrist
and the rope tightened on my neck.
Every action has a consequence,
because when you pull on the string;
something unravels.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
Museums as art
Art as museums
Sail the trail to my mausoleum
Psychopaths and physicists
Psychiatrists and philosophers
Philanthropists and pilots and painters
Declare now, that these are our days –
Our hours, and our days
These are our city, our hours
Our time, our days.
This is our world –
At 14:92 I landed here and claimed it
And searched it and found it wanting
Of civilization that I could so easily supply
By means of wounds and iron
And brawn and truth
(and just a tiny touch of influenza darling)
By means of our Lord,
Who grants us all that we desire
If only we **** enough of those he did not choose.
This is our world –
And we shall make it what we will
Make it in our own image
Teach it that innocence is not knowing the difference between right and wrong
Raise it to hate no one
But to love itself so deeply
That all other love seems hateful in comparison.
This is our child, love
Yours and mine.
Here the first shall be last
And the last shall be first
But once the first are last they shall be
Last
Last
Last
And once the last are first
They shall make it so they can never be last again
This is our primitive accumulation
Of necessary materialism
Let’s cultivate matter
To make objects that we can place on shelves
And in cases –
These are our cases
And we love them as we love ourselves
Museums as mass graves
Mass graves as museums
Kiss me in my mausoleum
Priests and prisoners
Prostitutes and prophets
Pioneers and pilgrims and pagans
This is our time –
And we are dispensing it in spendthrift increments
Buying threadbare bandages for our cavernous canyons
Buying ample earplugs
To seal in the silence
So we can somewhat say
“look there is peace –
Look we have done it
In our time it is accomplished” –
This is our peace –
And we know it by the signs
The lions and lambs lay quietly together
In our brass-barred zoos
For as long as shelves and cases
Are intact and the first are first
And the last are last
And the civilized are organized and holy
There is peace –
Oh, look
We made peace!
And as for Solomon and Socrates –
We take their words to weave through our new wisdom
And when we re-chart the constellations
We shall give them each a star
And salute them once a year
When they come around the universe
Oh, look
How wise we are!
Mass graves as art
Art as mass graves
There have been no better days
There has been no greater time
Politicians and pornographers
Professors and pirates
Psychologists and pastors and pianists
This is our time –
And we are doing with it the very best we know how
The last are toiling and trying
And the first are trying to think to try –
But there is a shortness in our hours
And a violence in our peace
There is inherent foolishness in our wisdom
And disease in our cities
And there is death upon our shelves and in our cases.
This is our world –
We crafted it and declared our truth to be true
We sculpted this, our colosseum
Please inscribe my mausoleum
With “we know not what we do”
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
Soft lips
that stung like alcohol when we kissed.
Blonde hair
almost as vibrant as your smile.
Pale skin
pulling me closer, begging to be touched.
Blue shirt
I told you it brought out the color in your eyes.
Dark room
truth is I couldn't see your eyes in that basement light.
Hard floor
the truth is I just want you to hold me.
Intoxicating
you make me feel dizzy and I want to walk straight again.
Intoxicated
you make me say things I usually won't, you make me do things I usually don't.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC