im writing this poem
then i must be an artist!
27 came around
hoped for the best
then i turned 28
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 1:37 AM UTC
hey corner store clerk,
you sold me candy for quarters
now *** for less
or whatever under a few dollars
wonder if you think of this
wonder if it leaves you bothered
the liquor store needs its checks
i know that you’re a father
you must not sell much else but *****
at least this feeds your family
the chocolates been stale for years,
your bread and milk is moldy
sunset came and so did the end,
your store closed up,
no more money to spend.
i wave at the empty shell as we pass by,
and maybe she waved back—
maybe in my mind
counting out those little circles
pennies dimes or silver nickels
counting out these little steps
glazing through the silver ripples
somewhere there's something left
something somewhere’s simple
somewhere i can spin the cap; treat my body like a temple.
i clutch you, little lifeline
i fiddle with the crinkles
if I could count the winter flakes
if little could be so simple
i find that church
sit on the steps
say hey to God
it's me, the king's old fool
his funniest fraud
blood to wine, money to time;
one feeds the soul
one passes by
a playground has seen
many versions of me
before i dyed my hair
until age sixteen
and now my ID reads: something beyond my reach
old enough to buy bubblegum,
old enough to drink bleach
maybe ghosts don't haunt
still i think they did that day
smoke in the shape of me
in the shape of idle play
probably just blurry
didn't drink enough to see two,
probably just blurry -
angry snot on a paper bag.
but still,
isn't that you?
could be that warm breath just fogs
like how clouds took form
of god colored cinnamon & applesauce
we still point and say that's me
and she laughs,
she waves again like salted sea
two swimming in that bobbing water
two swimming in that bottled fire
that's me, isn't it?
didn't we once exist?
like God and Mom and dead uncle John?
and that's all it took?
exist?
now it takes just this huh?
just this to feel
just this to persist?
well at least there's something grounding me,
at least that's something real
**** you,
swinging keeps you in the air
and monkey bars break wrists
my phone dances in my pocket
she wonders where I've been
think she'd be pleased with church
but it isn't a day of rest
but at least I'm here, that works
at some point i was blessed
the truth the way the life
wasn't always bought with quarters
adults would tithe or something
but this new **** barks out orders
maybe I shouldn't be here
i think this was enough
finish off your spirits
go home. you've had enough.
i don't remember what went after,
i probably fell asleep
found distractions in other stuff
sticky black smoke, a game
being buzzed was just enough
her little fists let off the swings
i do remember how
she waved and said goodbye to me
and i scowled and cut the strings
not long after we set up tents
red canopies and hammocks
we laid to rest, I did my best **** it
and he's still angry, what isn’t new
we’re out of town
what else to do
pull me aside and sit me down
sure i cut her off but she comes fast now
that small sorry, being punished
it was never that different, was it?
“you took my change
you stole from me five dollars.”
caught by the toe, won’t let it go
go on, try to holler
“we came here to have fun,
we came here to have fun.
but just let me remind you
just of what all you’ve done.
of all the things you’ll never be,
of the things that you've become.
you don't take unless I say so,
you won't wear my socks.
if you think you’re worthy of that,
then in my shoes you’ll walk.
you don't do anything.
nothing.
so at least just get me off."
i think about that change
i think about that change
i think about that change
i ask us what's changed
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 5:46 PM UTC
blood
isnt
all
too
different
from
water
except
for
tastin
******
salty
Jun 5, 2023
Jun 5, 2023 at 9:46 PM UTC
my consciousness thin
& my self-tattered skin
my floor-wrought chin
& my parasitic twin
my black book of sins
& my losses before wins
my thrashing limbs
& my tiniest of violins
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 1:14 PM UTC
trail your cursor
now draw it near
pull the trigger
disappear
a soulmate of wire
and this suit of meat
together forever
binary heartbeat
three tabs forgotten
lost before the portal
my handle is forever
this old friend is immortal
digital shepherd, the digital sheep
counting the code for their lcd sleep
that with limbs could run
away
and those with souls aren't meant to stay
the only running she does
is for me,
my forever friend,
dot exe.
the web cannot perish,
the web cannot weep.
it simply one day
goes obsolete
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 10:11 AM UTC
I knew there was a reason why I thought of you whenever this song came on.
Here I am typing to you, imagining that you can respond.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 9:22 AM UTC
look at all these people
playing at life's game
i'd like to think i'm better
yet I am just the same -
writing a listless poem
this one without a name
a spew of nothingness
i hope sticks to your brain
no, i don't do this for me
this poem is for you
and perhaps if you felt the same
you'd be this way too.
writing poems while alone
feeding the human zoo
a mind ablank and empty
i'm just enjoying the view
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC
hello reader, i'm trying too hard
as if you could grade me
for every thought I discard
here - please dissect my ramblings
into coherent readings
clumsily crafting my feelings,
i’m scrambling
mending my thoughts digestible for you
i just wanted a good poem,
but this afterthought
will do
similar to the class toad
sprawling my consciousness out
a beating heart
exposed
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
i found the puzzle that you crafted
tucked inside it's little box
with all the scattered pieces,
with all the scattered thoughts.
I fumble for every shard,
I recover them preciously,
bit by bit -
I place them gently, specially.
to expose the entire picture
i guess you're gone, it's true.
our memories run and flicker
I realize that it’s you.
god, it hurts to look at-
this unfinished mess of art
and to know you’ll never carve
another piece.
at least I have a beating heart.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
i've found that if I ***** my head on too tightly-
the threads become loose enough
my socket burns out a little quicker
and regardless of what way you spin it,
it's stuck until it's of no use
and when that day comes-
my empty skull will rattle
my light will go out
and the only way to replace me
is to break me
even after i'm blackened,
burnt
and discarded
i'd still have been of use
to anyone who has basked
under what little I had to give
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC