it's really too bad
that nicotine
leads to addiction

and it's too bad
that street drugs
cost so much

too bad that
alcohol isn't
given to minors

too bad that
i can't afford
to properly
destroy myself

too bad that
i've always
felt the need to.

i'm on top of the world
and waiting to crash

i'm glad summer
is over now
always had too many
false expectations
and winter is better
because everyone
sets the season's
standards low

(except for christmas
but **** christmas
except don't actually
**** christmas
because the pine needles
would probably hurt)

i just want the dishes all
washed and my bedroom
floor completely clean and swept
before i jump in front of a car

(go ahead and hang
me from the chandelier
it's not like i need
my neck in one piece)

but there's some kind of concept
stating that anything left to itself
will steadily grow worse so
if i go now it may just all decay

(flowers sprouting out
of the sink drain and the
ivy on the window taking
hold of the kitchen walls
grass meandering up
through my floorboards)

last week you promised
over cups of morning coffee
that you would do
anything to help me

but that was before
last night when i washed
the coffee *** five times
brewing out the limey residue
of all the things you've said
and this morning it tasted
slightly of vinegar and
i remembered that you
got so lost in old grocery receipts
inside plastic bags under the table
of your own colossal problems
that you just forgot.

(if i were less anxious i would
definitely be an arsonist by now)

and i don't know as
you know about that
concept the one i was
just referring to

(the one that explains
why procrastination
will **** us both
you in your femoral arteries
me in the vicelike death trap
of my ******* head)

because i don't know as
you know that behind
the mania in my eyes is
three four a.m.'s
two five a.m.'s
one six a.m.
and six months
of three a.m.'s.

every time i fry a fish i'm
mentally putting my face
against into the pan and
the lid over my eyes

(and you just want
salad for some reason)

i'm a paragon of raging
domesticity these days
and you're saying how right
you must have raised me

(really it was all your wrongs
that raised me right that way)

you keep accusing me
of being mad at you
so okay i'll just say i'm
******* mad at you

because you can't
control your house
or who lives in it
you can't even take
care of yourself which
means i could lose
you tomorrow and
you don't care that i'm
suffering and dying
just as slowly as you are

(somebody has to
take responsibility
for your actions and
i've always been handy)

you call me selfish when
i learned that from you

(hell only knows
everyone is at least
a little selfish some
just hide it better)

but the other thing you
taught me by example
is that if you want
something done
right you must
do it yourself

*(**** it all
you'll see one day
what i did for you
and **** it all
because i can't save
either of us but you
had better believe i
can clean a ******* house.)

"how do you
do it?" you
cried suddenly
as we walked.

"do what?"
i asked.

"balance things
on things that
shouldn't stay
but they do."

"i don't?"
i said
and remembered
that i do.

we decided
it must be
some vague
form of magic

that bowls never
fell off of tissue boxes
i never knocked
glasses of water
off of my bed frame
that terracotta pots
stayed put on water jugs
and the way i can
load a dish strainer
shouldn't be possible.

well
scratch that

because today at
eight a.m. i spilled
half a cup of
fresh coffee
all over my blanket
sheets shirt and ipod

nothing was
damaged just
smelling very
columbian

but i guess i'm
not magic after all.

i'm scared
to death

(it will be exactly three
months before christmas)

and i don't
want to
find myself
alone that
night and
fighting

(it hurts to even
think about it
because i'm still so
low it sounds okay)

but i don't want
to go anywhere
be with anyone
because there
are demons we
have to deck ourselves
and dates we
have to face alone

(on the other hand
who knows what might
happen if i were alone
i don't even know)

and i just wish that
none of this had
ever happened but
oh well it did

and now i have to
face the terrible
pain of seeing the
rest of the fall

(the chill in my
knuckles on
halloween
the pie dough
under my nails
thanksgiving day)

and into
winter

(tape scrapped
palms before
christmas
hot mugs of tea
for the rest of
eternity)

and on and
on for the
rest of time
and i don't
want the
rest of time

(i'd take the clock
off the wall and
crank the hands
around backwards
to give myself a
second chance but
denial won't help
anything at all.)

i've always hated
feeling trapped.

Alternate persona
Smart for someone
"Spitting Fire"
But can't even light a match

Swipe
Swipe
Snap

Your chance just broke
An unfufulling fire
To couple with your unfufulling verse

If a battle of blades you desire
Then don't worry about your precious little knife
It won't be dented as it will never touch mine
My sword will split you
Head to toe

Let me build up some lyrical ammo
Throw on some camo
I'll lyrical burry you in snow
In the spring food for crow
Just, so you know

Ain't no "bandersnatch" gonna scare this country kid away
I'll take your mythical mut
Hunt it
**** it
Gut it
Deep-fry it
Serve with some pork gravy
And a some iced tea

So maybe you should call off your dog
Before it ends up on the dinning room table with my family saying our pre dinner prayers to God.

king of stars and star-crossed hearts
constellations like freckles across shoulders with eyes like dawn,
like whispers of cloudless skies and summer days,
all of humanity's finest qualities:
curiosity and vulnerability and loyalty.
captain has been in your blood like gold,
like lullabies sung to already-fulfilled dreams.
how does starfleet regulate smiles so addicting?
a soul too big for a solar system,
too much for a galaxy:
your soul is simply cosmic, darling,
mesmerising in your daring.
don't stop running until you reach the edge
of the diving board into the great unknown.
one end is the beginning to another.
don't stop running until you're satisfied,
until the universe stops expanding and starts to collapse.
you don't know home until you've left it,
but home isn't on terra:
it's a crew of family and friends,
a ship that will take you everywhere and through everything.
cross your fingers and hope not to die,
for you must live a thousand more lives
before your adventure ends.

Why'd you do it
Why'd you fight
Why'd you come at me tonight

I am fire
I am death
Stab you in the back
Modern Macbeth

Here I stand
Cavalry of words behind
Of course to you I'll remind

Bow before
Kiss my feet
Or die in fight
Sure deceit

Back down
Submit to me
Maybe I'll be gracious
And share my tea