I am part of an existence comprised of life and death. I am part of an existence that I can’t wrap my head around. I am inside of a world no one wants to understand. I am using language as a tool to clear my head. I am living a life that could easily be a lie. But what really is a lie if each one of us will die. I am a recycled particle of everything that has been. This universe is a blender in God’s kitchen. Maps are dishonest. And I am honestly losing my mind.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
in my garden
there's a feeling
of your fingers buried
beneath the snow
your hands as strong
diamond blades
but now we need to go
in my living room
the universe
leaks in through open windows
i try to dig you out of our suede couch
but the cushions fall too low
my old bedroom
hums a cleaning tune
of polka styled Sundays
you never understood
my floral sheets or any of my ways
in my driveway
bottle rockets lit
shooting past our skulls
you couldn't look at me
or anything that screamed romance at all
finally i see the bible green
craft woven through the fields
all i see is our lord savior
lighting cigarettes revealed
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
take my word for it
we're both worth it
in your hour of implosion
our time keeps going
midnight, the familiar smell of
strange boys trying to hold you
your mouth a cauldron of poison
touching all the things you don't want to
loosing yourself in dark skies
won't bring the stars any closer
old photographs fill your mind
how can he change that quick
i'm not so sure
older boys don't know the things
our silly schoolboys taught us
like how to hold your words in
to make other heads combust
regret will hold your hair
as you prepare to throw up flowers
from the dances you went to
in his green suit
now April Showers
I regret most of it
looking deeply into his eyes closed
next time you fall and scrape your knees
know that the pain may be predisposed
put down the drink
come lay with me
what can we build
our strategy
to use this pain
and smear the blood
across the sheets so tragically
(i wish that you were here with me)
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
to me you speak proverbs
and Hymns
and Hallelujahs
If God isn't real, i know there is still a deity in you
a broken deity
a light that lived many lives
a cackling joker
if you may
i cry and listen to simple songs
that remind me
you may have kissed the most beautiful face in the world
and then i cry more because
to have felt true love in this world
just makes you a sucker
and we both fell victim to euphoria
we both fell victim to big thoughts and small gestures
and big smiles hiding small lies
i like to believe nothing is little
but i am sad
i love that you remember calendar dates
because you only keep track of the things that you care about
but you can't put a date
on the day we both let these men deteriorate us
decay is gradual
i love that you value repetition
in clothes, routines, and words
but we lost ourselves in the Nights We Can't Remake
and we keep driving night highways in search of
the past pieces of our friend group
but they choose pride over fellowship
so they can chain the ones they want to marriage bands and empty vows
thank you for teaching me
that you can not try for brilliance
instead it gravitates toward you
through honesty and observation
you are the most interesting story my life will ever get the chance to read
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
Time heals all wounds, cuts, bruises, broken bones, organs (specifically hearts)
Time heals all of these with a force called love (tolerance)
Medicine (alcohol)
Prescriptions from your loved ones ("just get over it already")
Or
("Find someone else")
Time pushes decisions on you
Do we fight for the past?
Do we fight in regret's slow growing army?
Do we only go down fists clenched?
Or
Do we waste away?
Do I sit along the shore ( bedrooms, basements, classrooms, places I spend most time) and overlook my pretty little shells ( the best people in my life)
Waiting for the shell I threw back (you)
To wash up once again
After all there are so many shells in the sea
And so many shores
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
Writing hurts and it helps
It hurts to pull your brain through time machines to relive your life in slow motion
But it helps you find the truth about your sickening unconscious
With a full page
You can feel empty
For at least one second
Until burdening thoughts return
To run the track of twisted reality
Once again
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:09 AM UTC
i hope to speak to you again
but then what would i say
that your current relationship
makes me feel like an angel
buried alive and forgotten
that i drink
then i call
to hear your voice
but there is nothing to say
i am doomed to dead leaves and empty carousels
i am stuck on one song
the piano is tired of hearing it
and the folds in my throat are tired of singing it
Sundays call for routine
Samson sings my rampant mind to sleep
and David can play to please the Lord
but i will never please you
the way that her tiny hands and heart do
you were everywhere
including my lips
and time will heal all wounds
but instead you left a tattoo
that reads
*i ****** up*
i still get high from the memories of our eye contact
i know that we could have made it
if we had tried
but you're the balloon that flew away
into a greedy breeze
and you taught my childish heart
that all things are temporary
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
kind hearted man
why do you try so hard to be simple
i loved you for your innocence
but i know it's chosen ignorance
because if you think too hard
you might learn that everything you know is a lie
your God is the easiest road to travel
rather than tackle the real questions of the universe
you are stuck in your own head
i have dreams where i try to chisel you out
but instead my pecking backfires
and i'm the one left in pieces
you want to do whats easiest
so i'm left alone
sprinting through the dark fields of the world
on my birthday
chasing down nineteen candles without you
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC