I thought about killing myself today...
again
for the ump-teenth time this month.
I was wearing that yellow polo
and thumbing through the pages of a book
of poems
by Bukowski
if I could only write like him,
I thought --
then I’d be somebody.
I don’t even like that shirt
but I wear it anyway
because
it’s comfortable.
maybe that’s exactly
how I feel
about my
on-again-off-again
relationship
with my
suicidal thoughts –-
I’d never actually do it,
I tell myself
*I just like to think about it
because
it’s
comfortable*.
oh --
we’re such silly creatures of habit
aren’t we?
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
this is the shard I’ll use.
it’s just a small, broken piece of glass,
but I figure it’ll do
just fine.
there’s nothing particularly special about it,
aside from the fact that it broke off a picture frame --
a picture frame that you gave me.
a picture frame holding a photograph
of us together.
I look at it,
and while I remember it well,
it still feels like it was
another lifetime ago.
why is it that when I think of you
during the day,
when I’m straight,
the David Bowie song “Queen *****
immediately comes to mind?
can it simply be because you became
a tremendous ***** near the end?
no, that’s too easy.
cheap shot.
of course
it wasn’t all bad.
we were good,
you and me.
and when we were good, you know, it was...
we had our moments,
as few and far between
as they may have been.
...and they were fleeting.
no matter how hard we tried
to hold onto them,
they would drift away
and then we'd forget.
that was the hardest part --
the forgetting.
it always was.
it still is.
but when I think of you now,
late at night,
when I’m like this,
you’re still so
******* perfect.
you were always perfect with the lights off.
away from the world.
maybe it was selfish of me to want
to keep you there
away from the world.
uncorrupted.
perfect.
maybe once again,
I’ve just got infatuation
all confused
with love.
maybe that’s all it is --
all it ever was.
can you blame me?
it seems like that’s what
always happens right before a
crush
becomes a
grudge.
and boy, do we really know how to hold onto those.
at least we have something
to hold on to.
yes,
this is the shard I’ll use.
I figure it’ll do
just fine.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
Today –-
I think I’ll go
play in traffic
like I used to when I
was a kid
...just for old time’s sake.
I wonder
without my
wide eyes
bushy tail
and dimples
will the headlights
even bother to swerve
this time?
the underside of
a ******* prius
being the last thing
I’ll ever see
at least it gets better mileage
than I ever did
my guts
spilled out across
boiling asphalt
they belong there
they were wasted
inside me
someone should waste me too
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
Every New Year’s Eve I make the same resolution:
“Come next New Year’s Eve,
my life will be better
than it is right now.”
It has not happened yet.
And I see no reason why
it should happen this time either.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
One-fifty-two a.m.
Eleven beers.
Almost a liter of *****
I really should be going to bed.
**** I should have gone to bed hours ago...
Maybe one more beer
will help me hold on.
Does this couch just feel
that much better than my bed?
Or maybe it has something to do
with these antibiotics
I’ve been mixing
with excessive amounts of alcohol?
Maybe?
Just maybe I don’t want to get better --
-- to feel better.
Maybe I want this flu to consume me
and swallow me whole.
If that won’t work
perhaps I really do
want to drown
in distilled potatoes
and fermented wheat
barley
hops
Is it possible –- isn’t it?
What the hell do I want?
Do I even know anymore?
I know I wanted you.
I wanted you
more than anything.
You were wearing a real short skit,
and I had a real short fuse.
For sure it was a bad combination...
...but that don’t make it a good excuse.
When the dust settled
I guess we both realized that neither of us
would ever see the sun again...
...not as long as we were chained together.
God-fucking-dammit!
Why does everything I write
turn out to be about you?
Why?
Why do I still think about that one night
when we were outside in the rain,
when you told me that I looked just like James Dean?
Why?
I wish then I would have told you
that it doesn’t mean a ******* thing...
...because with the lights out babe,
every girl is Marilyn Monroe.
Not just you.
I used to hope
that when this was over
you’d still
remember me.
But now that it’s over
I can’t stand the fact
that I can’t stop
thinking
about
you.
Two-oh-nine a.m.
Christ, I really should be going to bed.
Maybe I’ll be able to forget you then --
-- maybe you’ll stop polluting
every decent thing I try to write.
I doubt it though.
I get the feeling you’ll be sticking to
my ribs
and hanging on
my heartstrings
for a while to come.
Hopefully one day
someday soon
I’ll finally be
done
with you.
And at last I’ll finally see the truth --
We were just
two
dumb
kids
with jealous hearts
that ******* fell apart
when bombs
explode.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
There was this girl --
she wasn’t just a girl
not just any girl
She was the girl
who looked at me different
She looked at me unlike
any other person
looked at me
Friends, strangers, my own parents
no, she looked at me differently
Not with disapproving eyes
not with disappointment
no contempt
no shame
no regret
Not even with wonder
or amazement
or excitement
When she looked at me
she didn’t see what I once was
or what I could one day be
She didn’t see past mistakes
or wasted potential
or squandered talent
She didn’t see goals
that were too great to achieve
or dreams that were abandoned
and never to be realized
She didn’t see the boy
that grew up too soon
or the man
that didn’t grow up fast enough
She didn’t see me lost
in the wilderness of my own doubts
my fears
my demons
She didn’t see me drowning
in the sea of my own self pity
my apathy
my bottles
She never saw any of those things
When she looked at me
all she saw was me
just me as I was
naked and bare
skin and bones and hair and nails
She saw me open and empty
waiting to be filled
and then emptied again
Somewhere in there she saw a soul
or at least the small spark of one
a soul that must have meant something
that must have been
worth sticking around for
It must have meant that I was there
that I was present
at least in some capacity
I cared
cared for her
for something
anything
Now I sit and wonder
what happened to the soul
I wonder where it went
where it could have gone
I wonder why it left
how it went away
what I did to destroy it
I must have destroyed it
because she doesn’t look at me anymore
there’s nothing left
for her to see
those eyes are gone
and I miss them
I should have appreciated them more
looked into them
reassured them
I should have figured
that one day
they wouldn’t be there
to look at me anymore
I just didn’t see
how tired they were
her tired eyes
tired of me
What I wouldn’t give for someone
to just look at me
like that again
if only just once
just for a second
She never saw any of those things
when she looked at me
and neither did I
when I looked at her
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 1:25 AM UTC
why don’t you go for a swim
in the river
wearing
concrete shoes?
something to do
to ****
some time
a good way
to ****
your
lover
too
surprise, surprise
I couldn’t find a bar
tonight
at least not one
that would have me
or fulfill my dreams
now I’m sobered up
and looking for a fight
so tell me...
have you ever heard
the sound
of raindrops on the rooftops?
or a heartbeat in the backseat?
it's hard to see the car crash
with your hands over your eyes
so keep off my doorstep
stay away from my soul
you can’t have this one
I’ll save it on my own
but it doesn’t
really
matter:
I’m already
dead.
so I guess the only
question is:
a bullet
in the kneecaps?
or this cigarette
I swear will be
my last?
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 1:22 AM UTC
I told her I had a good time
last night
she said I drank
a lot of beer
as usual
my eyes were bigger
than my liver
does she ever want me to call
again?
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
where were you when they were taking hostages?
where were you when my life fell apart?
where were you when they decided I’d gone far enough?
where were you when I was broken?
you were only there when I was whole
I was only whole because you were there
where were you when I was bleeding?
where were you when it hurt like hell?
where were you when I fell off?
where were you when I needed you most?
you were only there when I was clean
I was only clean because you were there
where were you when I was making mistakes?
where were you when they had it in for me?
where were you when I lost all hope?
where were you when the voices ******* tore me apart?
you were only there when I was alive
I was only alive because you were there
where were you when they were taking hostages?
where are you now?
you were only there because I was there
I was only there because you were there
I’m only here now because you’re not
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC
sometimes
love
is like
having your heart
ripped
from your chest
forced
through a
meat grinder
and fed
to a pack
of wild dogs
but sometimes it’s all worth it
for the times
it’s not
but sometimes...
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC