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228 · Apr 2017
Lost Lunches
what a waste Apr 2017
Through the fridge's fumes he grazes
The kid's behaving strangely
From the depths of this eclipsed Hades
he's spacing
Like Caroline wondering
where all the lemonade went
Here's a hint it sits past
the point of a period
Think.
227 · Aug 2016
Just a thought
what a waste Aug 2016
It's best when I can see the moon at high noon
I'm reminded that it's not always good to assume
227 · Apr 2016
Glorious Leftovers
what a waste Apr 2016
I wanna be a poet's death;
extravagant to the touch.
Harvest me the honest intent
behind every typewriter key
the world has ever plucked
and I'll show you a realm
where words were often said
but never were they really felt.
I wanna pack a punch large enough
to withdraw the borrowed breath
you cling to like some misplaced
cliff ledge you happened past.
What good's a map when your compass
only shows four points of south?
226 · Mar 2018
Talentless
what a waste Mar 2018
He’s meddlesome like the specimens
knocking on his skeleton.
It’s beats over everything,
‘cept for a bit of Methamphetamine.
This dissident’s impenitent.
Rhythm sitting like a blueprint;
Building villages for the pilgrimage
then sinking ships fore they’re ever sent.
Quick, crack the casket, he lacks a cat nap.
His dreams got caught up in her fishnet.
It’s madness. It’s habit. Go ahead, ask Alice.
225 · Feb 2018
King of Camelot
what a waste Feb 2018
I should be famous.
Yeah, I'm barefaced.
I think you're aimless.
The top is so spacious,
no elbows or vagrants.
Think spaceships.
**** it, add the chips.
My word arrangement's hotter
than the Devil's basement.
Catch me getting gazes,
I'm getting high off their faces.
**** it, I should be famous.
225 · Feb 2018
Cancer
what a waste Feb 2018
I think I’m getting sick. I keep on heaving bits of ink
down this ***** ******* sink. I’d try to wash my hands,
but for me, ships just seem to sink. And where would I go?
Who would I be? Jack on some jolly ******* sea?
I’d rather die than live another day like a leech.
Put me beneath the weeds, I belong to the trees.
223 · Jun 2017
Im always late
what a waste Jun 2017
I picked up today
and placed it to the fray
and with the thickest scope
I peered on through
I saw no difference
not one i could make
so i sat back down
and thought of you
I found my face
in outer space
took one breath
and now I'm late
222 · Mar 2018
Count The Kid Out
what a waste Mar 2018
Broken open, the fountain's foaming.
His coping mechanisms are showing,
the chromatophores got him ghosting.
Boo! I'm out.
221 · Oct 2015
Lay Me Down
what a waste Oct 2015
She kinda laughed
as I flipped the hourglass.
"Nothings gonna save you,
not even the god that made you."
I've been playing with fire ever since.
218 · Aug 2016
I Get It
what a waste Aug 2016
I let your distasteful
tongue grace my back;
it feels like a hundred
tiny whips instilling faith.
I'm ugly - I get it. I am what you've
always wanted to be, so I take it.
I hope it sets you free.
216 · Mar 2018
No?
what a waste Mar 2018
No?
It's just you and me now, kid.
Distilled til the fellowship could fill a pit.
I'm told to build, but honestly? **** a bridge.
I'd rather tilt a dam and watch the **** spill.
Splash - Flash the fastest, catch my drift?
216 · Oct 2015
If Only
what a waste Oct 2015
If only I could travel
as fast as the data
that connects us
Maybe then the distance
wouldn't seem too far

If only I could rearrange
the matter inside our star
I'd plot you out a message
that could be read from any altitude

Then maybe you'd understand
what it is I'm trying to say to you
If only - If only
215 · Feb 2018
Painfully Honest
what a waste Feb 2018
I shake trees and watch junkies
drop like leaves. Please, it's a subtle breeze.
If I wanted to, I could puff this place
to it's knees. Freeze! It's a robbery.
Got you reaching for the stars.
Heh, as if you could follow me.
I'm toking up an ocean.
Floating up this poem.
Got it bottled for the coastland.
Coded for the devoted.
Duly noted were the roses.
215 · Mar 2018
Snorlax
what a waste Mar 2018
My skin started falling off again,
I could pick apart every ******* inch.
Gluttony’s got me gobbling guilt.
I’m swallowing forks.
Yeah, I know all roads run to an end.
I’m just trying to get to where they begin.
Indistinct? ****, I feel incomplete.
Partially extinct,
I’m pacing this here ditch deep.
Pass the pack then smash repeat.
I’m just trying to dream another dream,
regardless of the hour or who’s in need.
Let me sleep. Let me slumber.
215 · Feb 2016
Maggot Teeth
what a waste Feb 2016
I thought
of my self highly
'til I saw the mound
of dirt beneath my feet
215 · Aug 2016
Land of The Living
what a waste Aug 2016
I found myself shuffling about
and as I lurked and groaned
from corner to corner, caught
by the charm of each cramped-
condensed street lamp, I looked
up to the drooling moon.
It was then I dreamt of paintings
who's edges sloshed like seas.
215 · Dec 2017
Nimrod
what a waste Dec 2017
The Destroyer of Worlds reduced to a verb.
I'll swallow my tongue to entomb these words,
and down beneath that crooked oak they'll stir.
Check this, he's a menace entranced by ***** little pendants,
obsessed with vengeance like Khan on injections,
and sick to death of these meritless contestants.
Tremble before his temple bearing nothing but the essentials.
While the peasants peddle pebbles like life lessons
he's off to the heavens in a vessel freshened for the devils.
His friendliest is an exposition against his pension.
Expressions like weapons so he aimed em at his reflection
then pulled the trigger with inimical intentions.
212 · Feb 2018
Rusty
what a waste Feb 2018
I sold myself as an ocean.
Sailed it til I was lost out in the open.
I wonder if it's cause I thought myself brave.
The waves seem to sink beneath the days.
211 · Feb 2018
Collapsing Arteries
what a waste Feb 2018
I’m smoking like I was reaching for the nose bleeds.
Watching **** youse slip through the grit,
you can catch me grinning up a **** storm.
Got the women wet and their boys warm.

Yeah.

Sometimes I think I’m gonna die,
but I keep on spinning anyways.
We’re all here until where not, right?
Would you smile at your last goodbye?

I would.

That’s why I keep a heart tattooed to my hand.
You can always find Indiana and ask him who I am.
210 · Aug 2016
Tight Rope
what a waste Aug 2016
My mind is as thin
as all the molecules
inside a balloon's wall
that has expanded for
far too long. POP!
209 · Jun 2016
Tic-Toc
what a waste Jun 2016
I'll sit and pick
the seconds from the minutes
Then stick them in my pocket
with the lizards and the crickets
Like a child turning stars into wishes
Snuffing life in an instant for the sake
of a miscreant's Christmas list.

I'll point and laugh
At the writing on the wall
Unless it's Kilroy's nose
peering over my stall.

Here we are. Final stop.
Pendulum, meet Clock.
Grab a drink. Take a seat.
Want a snack? Coffee?
Yeah, but it's black.
Something sweet?
Let me check.
207 · Feb 2018
Pills & Liquor
what a waste Feb 2018
The chosen has awoken.
Time to kick back a few potions.
You know, swashbuckle the swig like a showman.
I’m here for the heroics,
all the way down to the goldfish.
I’m the bottom feeder that figured out floating.
Sorta doltish.
Got rank and file like, “Hold on, ***, he’s still loading.”
Um, Ma’am? I think you meant molting.
It's hard not to hate myself sometimes
205 · Apr 2016
Hello, Love
what a waste Apr 2016
If I could lift from this page
what you truly mean to me
I'd go to war with every single tree
I wouldn't stop until my life was
consumed by an empire of sheets
The light of the stars would shine
and the sun would sing
Daisies dancing away the rain
while the birds and the bees played
If only I could find a way,
to explain what my heart is saying
somewhere on these pages
I'd get lost in the fields of lines until
the end of time - face to face with oblivion
Just you and me holding hands
in the middle of the streets
while the world fell apart
That's what you mean to me
201 · Feb 2018
Cravings
what a waste Feb 2018
You look familiar.
I think I’ve seen you here before.
Perhaps you wore yourself a different face;
One of plastic, or perhaps it’s just mâché.
Either way, I’m still happy to see you.
Even if it is fake.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt okay.
I’m dying inside and have no one left to say,
“It’s but a day in the shade of many.”
I lay awake and cling to fleeting dreams
as if I myself could master their wings.
Maybe one day I’ll find the seam
they seem to keep on slipping through.
Who would want such a pathetic thing?
I’m a deadbeat and have been since birth.
The zombie boy’s alone in his own world,
chewing up a storm with his mangled throat.
Here I go again, talking to myself
like there’s a single ounce of hope.
200 · Aug 2016
My Words
what a waste Aug 2016
I'm only trying to write the
wrong that I see within myself.
189 · Jul 2017
Where Would I Be
what a waste Jul 2017
I am the creature she speaks of;
A myth whispered behind timid licks of crimson.
She's a spider and I the fly.
A price I'm willing to pay,
so long as it's her who watches me die.
Take to my side, stick to my life,
eat my insides til I'm cured from this mind.
With tongue in hand, I'll turn your tides.
With tongue in hand, I'll write what mouths can only hide.
188 · Oct 2015
Untitled
what a waste Oct 2015
I've lost all sense of what's to come,
long before I came to be.
187 · Apr 2016
Toy Hearts
what a waste Apr 2016
Woe are the men
       who find no start
                Brittle be their
                        filament hearts
                        Angst in the air
                      sparks retreat
            like tainted pollen
to finicky bees
180 · Jul 2017
The End
what a waste Jul 2017
Without you my words feel forced and I
haven't the voice to accomplish it on my own.
Where have you been, my one true love?
The night draws near and I'll be needing a throne.
You are the cornerstone of my patented tone
and there is a catacomb that I long to roam.
I'll sacrifice you my thoughts and I'll eat my heart
head first til all the parts that used to make
me work are caught up in an unforgiving smirk.
I'll let the fickle flesh rot in between my teeth so
when I worship you you'll taste everything I mean.
Take your hooks and thread them through my skin,
I don't wanna ever feel like I ******* belong again.
I'll circle the pentagram in search of what I am, so long
as you cut out the middle man and make me the lamb.
The only time I feel alive is when I'm dead.
The only time I feel alive is when I'm dead.
The only time I feel alive is when I'm dead.
170 · May 2016
Running in Place
what a waste May 2016
We are all dead
We just don't know it yet

— The End —