Be dark but not
too dark.

Be tortured but not
so tortured
that it tortures me.

The thick of it all
is wearing me thin.
I know that you're broken,
but where have you been?

Be everything I want.
Be everything I need.
I love what's in your blood.
I can't stand how much you bleed.

Be dark but not
too dark.

We built our home in the high tide sand.
Four crumbling walls where we mourn
the death of a love stillborn

Painfully aware of the waves.
Just a few fleeting months
to live out a lifetime of loving

And I can't ever find the words
or the literary comparisons
to convey how much you mean to me
the magnitude of your presence

You're not my Juliet
I'm not your Romeo
You are not Annabelle Lee
And I am no Poe

I never know what to say
Maybe I'm just sick of missing you
before you even leave
Maybe this isn't the kind of pain
we both so constantly crave

Maybe I'm Prufrock
Maybe you're a mermaid
Maybe we're both drowning
in a sea of terrible voices

and i never felt much sadder
than the day that we first met
because i knew it didn't matter
that one day you would forget

all the nights we spent together
and the days we stayed in bed
and the words that i would whimper
oh so softly as you slept

no i never would have pictured
just how hard i'd fall for you
but the gold it turned to silver
and my heart turned back to blue

i should have seen it coming
you warned me you were cold
but the silence doesnt hurt less
just because it was foretold

and i never felt much sadder
than the day that i confessed
that i loved you more than life itself
even though i wished for death

thank you everyone
that's found anything from my words
your support has made things
much more worth doing.

i feel so empty
so do you
we feel so empty
all of us do

strangest friendship
we were not friends
we were
only
what we thought
we could see of each other
from the mirror

a splinter in my nail bed
i never can sleep
disconsolate perspectives
on what i can't see
left only to imagine
what we might have dreamed

And I understand what T.S. Eliot meant when he wrote that poem....
Because I feel so hollowed out.
And I want to scream and end my life
but all I do is
whimper.

Geometry melting
Prismatic projections
love songs on repeat
Strangest friendships
Stranger still, our suffering
Anamolous Uniformity, this heartache
that which we all desire
the love you love until you hate
the hate you love but only on your saddest days
a hand to hold, a concept still
a heart in your chest, or so you're told
A watcher always -- your lot in life
Emburdened steps by the light of Orion
Stranger sighs this lustful hatred of life
as if there were nothing else - nothing more
so much more or so we hope
worldly compensation for cerebral sorrows
that which we all feel -- at the bottom of life
at the bottom of it all
and here we all culminate -- in this strangest of places
all that we are -- all that we were & will be
so much more and so much better than it could have been
and at least for that we're grateful,
at least for that we can make amends
at least for that we can find some meaning
at least for that we've found our home.

Limitless sorrow defines my self
if that is my choice
I cannot tell.

Within this fear I will always dwell
if that is a shame
it's just as well.

you spoke without speaking
i spoke without thinking

and as the final desperate words
killed what could have been kept
we smoked in silence outside
you gave me the last drag
but I declined
you took one more
and we resigned

and the first cold rain of the year
fell just a few hours later

And for some reason
At the depth of it all
I have fallen back into
the deepest groove of my own suffering.

I do not know how or why
this pain has come back.
Or why it refuses to leave.

Deep down
at the bottom of everything
I am surrounded --
By perfect monstrous silence
Echoing gently the constant reminder
Of my own isolation.

I haven't felt this alone in years.
At least not consciously so.
Face to face with failure:
The deepest kind of suffering.
The very essence of sadness.

The darkest part of darkness.

Nothing but this:
Alone again as always
Irrational misbehavior
Living always in a tortured instance.

The world isn't so bad
But the experience itself
Is a whole different thing.

I'd rather die right now
than walk inside and put on a happy face.
Splice myself open and drain away.

The inexplicable suffering of my life
Has taken hold of me
Mysterious, unsubtle.

Always and forever.

I've never shot up ******
it's not that I'm above it
I just don't know where to buy it
and even if I did
I'm too lazy to leave my house

I used to have two ****** friends
one is dead
one got sober
I don't know which one I envy more.

Every time you cry
You look so beautiful
And every time you lie to me
I believe you
It happens all the time
It happens every night
And I don't even want it to be true
'Cause then you wouldn't be so far away
And I think that I love you more
With every step you take in the opposite direction
From me

And all those things you said
You said so many awful things
You said that your smile was chained down
Deep inside of you

For every time you lost yourself
I gave you twice of me
I ripped my soul in two
One for me
And one for you

And every time I try to love you
It fails in the exact same way
It fails just like it did the first time I
Laid my eyes upon you
Reached my hand out toward you
Felt your heart as hard as stone
Colder than the Winter that you left me

I have neither the time
nor the words
to actually write this poem.

My lunch break is almost over
and I have come in late
too many times already.

I'm too sick to write you this poem
or any of the others you would have
otherwise inspired.

I just liked the title.
Lovesick Lover

Isn't that fitting?

What's great about this whole situation
is how easy it is
to fall back into old habits.

A subtle benefit to male privilege:
being able to have anorexia
without anyone batting an eye.

Sometimes I feel like this cat is my only true friend --
like he is the only warmth I have
in my world sealed so tightly
in cold comforts.

The nudge of his head against the bridge
of my nose. The gentle caress
of claws he never quite learned
how to fully retract. The weight of his
fat, spoiled body against my abdomen.

The sharp pains of the world melt away
in the softness of his fur.

But he only gets this way when he's hungry
and I have been too sad to get out of bed
to feed him
or me.

Glorify me
I know the names and stars
Of seven constellations
In the winter sky

Worship me
I'm too stubborn to be a sub
And too lazy to be a dom
But I'll lay on the bed
And let you play with my ****

Idolize me
I'm dark and quiet
But sometimes I forget
To let other people talk

Conceptualize me
I'm plastic and shrapnel
And my tears fit well into vials
That could sell for maybe three dollars
From a gas station counter top
Between the lighters
Fidget spinners
And smartphone chargers

i could be an olympic athlete
in the hundred meter limp
i could write a best selling novel
about all the things that i never did

i've sailed across a thousand seas
but that's just the distance
from the bed to the tv

i tried to **** myself when i was just fifteen
i tried it again when i was seventeen
i never tried it after that
but i still smoke a pack a day

Everything is for sale
Including
You

At the party...
talking to my best friend's older brother.
He's a few years out of law school.

He sues small oil companies for environmental reasons.
But represents medium-sized ones
for some reason that I can't care to retain.
Net-neutral enough...
I suppose.

I get the feeling that he feels out of place.
That he'd rather be talking to someone
more similar.
More naturally engaged.

I can't blame him.
I feel the same way
myself.

No one taught me self care.
No one even tried.
All I know of life and love
are broken home lies.

I learned all the wrong things,
like how to cry and scream.
Alcohol, antipathy,
and other violent things.

Sometimes I think of better days;
I like to play make believe.
I think about who I could have been
were it not all done to me.

How easily I would function.
How that would just come naturally.
How I wouldn't do the things I do
if I hadn't seen the things I've seen.

I learned how to stay alive.
No one taught me how to live.

I quit drinking because
It made my stomach sick
I quit cutting myself because
I ran out of space for it

I quite being sad because
It took a lot to cry
I quit ******* up because
It takes less effort just to try

I finally found God.
He told me His name was Nothing.
And Nothing is in my heart
wherever I go.

My family and friends can see
that Nothing is inside of me.
They ask what's going on in my life.

I tell them the very good news.
That Nothing is inside of them too!
I try and explain my new found religion:

Nothing is sacred
because Nothing will greet you when you die
and Nothing will love you forever
and Nothing will save you from yourself.

I found my god.
I named him Nothing.
And Nothing helps me sleep at night.
And Nothing takes my pain away.

I hate the suburbs
Because of the yuppies.
I hate the ghetto
Because of the anxiety.
I hate the country
Because of the lonely.

I hate trucks
Because of the waste.
I hate mirrors
Because of my face.
I hate food
Because of the taste.

I hate love
Because of the exposure.
I hate ***
Because then it's over.
I hate goodbyes
Because of the closure.

I hate talking
Because of my voice.
I hate my body
Because of its poise.
I hate living
Because I have no choice.

I should have seen this coming
You warned me you were cold.
But the silence doesn't hurt much less
Just because it was foretold.

I wish that our bodies
had services lights
the way our cars do.

That way,
wherever I went,
I could light up the room
the way I used to
before I got so sick.

smile now act like you're
happy
"You are happy"
That is a lie

Snile now act like it's not so bad
"It's not so bad"
That's so ******* hollow, dude.

I am overcome by nostalgia for experiences that occured years and decades before I was born.
I ******* hate grunge music.
I should have been a cis white male privilege zshielded ignorant beatnik
I should be tripping ***** on mescaline with Kerouac and  Cassady at this very moment.
I am overcome by many things.
By many feelings  .
Many bottles of whiskey.
Many capsules of vyvanse
Many failed put option bets
Many failed courtships
Many fleeting pursuits of soulmates and joy innate.

I choose to live.
I want to die.
Thos does jot not matter.
This may be resurrected respected from the archives one day
One day will likely statiaically probably not occur

What's going on Bunker Club?
I could make there for a rojnd or two before last call

I want to die i choose to live

I suppose there are no .ore beatniks by thos point

I wonder what Cassady Kerouac or the one dude whome I love but am too fu ked up to remember his name the ine that wrote Howl yeah that one all of th

I qonder would they qould have done given these modern soma tools
Given these fentanyl laced uppers
Given this rising tide of fascism and plasti. Refuse

I wonder...

No one cares
N o on e matter
S
Nothing is or has ever been anyth
Ing

I wonder an db I wish
And I must have lost track of the substance here

I wonder was Ginsberg, yeah that was his name, I wonder what Ginsberh would haave done hiven all that's going on.
Given all that I have amd most. Ertainly don't have.
I wonder what he would have to say about all of this then

I wonxer if he qould still Ginsberg that genius ****** HOWL as hard now as he did in rhe fu ki.g 50s.

I wonder if she ever loved me.
I wonder if I ever loved.
I woncer if any of this was genous
And I wonder if this was all jist the alcohol drug addled  futile selfindilgent ******* that it seems to neeee

Maybe it's art
Maybe it is

Maybe you should go outside
Maybe I sbould eat a meal

Maybe everyone shod just
At the very least
Ask themselves how the personally define the concept of happiness
Maybe theyvand we and i should think about tha

Maybe wr should be happy
Maybe i should be happy

Maybe this is art
Maybe this is nothing
Maybe this is sibstance abuse
Maybe when I doe they'll gind this a ccount 20 years latet and study it in text books
Maybeayyne you sho)uld go outside amd
Maybe
Maybaybe
You should ask yourself what the definition of happiness really
Is

My highs are too high
My lows are too low
My flats aren't flat enough

My life is not life enough
My hatred is too much
My sadness is my love

My medicine is prescribed
My voice is in my eyes
My mind is set aside
My body is no paradise

Please not again
I don't think I can take it this time
I don't have anything left

Abilifuck

My soul was set inflamed
pinched nerves i thought i was dreaming
i took the neuropathy less travelled
this turned out to be bad
bipolar affective disorder BAD

But now (thanks doc)
I have the Abilify to do anything I want
I've made a Paxil to myself
to be as sane as I can be

We drank tequila straight from the bottle
and danced naked in the unfenced backyard

We chainsmoked the entire pack
And argued the difference between harassment and assault

We passed around the **** pen
and I don't remember what we were doing by that point

We woke up still naked
and asked ourselves if it was worth it

Everything I have to say
has been said to death
by people far more clever than me.

I'm too hungry to feel sad.
I'm too hungry to feel hungry.
I'm not asking for sympathy,
I'd rather not be seen.

I went to the doctor for advice
but all he saw were dollar signs.

And lately it's started to seem
that the best medicine for me
is a good night's sleep
and a breakfast of kerosene.

Maybe this will
make more sense
in the morning

Maybe this will
make more sense
with a bullet in my skull

i never felt much sadder
than the day that we first met
'cause i new it didn't matter
that one day you would forget

all the nights we spent together
and the days we stayed in bed
and the words that i would whisper
so softly as you slept

no i never would have pictured
just how hard i'd fall for you
but the gold it turned to silver
and my heart turned back to blue

and i never felt much sadder
than the day you finally left
'cause i couldn't even lie to myself
and say 'i tried my best'

and now i'm left here wondering
what else i could have done
all the the things i should have said
and the fact that i'm no fun

i wish that i felt better
i wish you were still here
i wish i didn't have to be
so bi ******* polar

and i never felt much sadder
than the day that i confessed
that i loved you more than life itself
even though i wished for death

i should have seen it coming
you warned me you were cold
but the silence doesn't hurt much less
just because it was foretold

I don't have enough hope to be hopeless
I don't feel enough to be numb.
I've lost too much to claim
that I don't have anything left.

I don't know what's sadder:
that this has happened,
or that I would let it all
happen again.

If clenching your jaw
is how your body prepares
for getting punched in the face
then what does that say
about my teeth so ground down
they're falling out?

I would give you the world
Were it not a plague
I would give you my heart
Were it not fading away

And I talk too much about politics
And people watching
And other things that no one seems
To care about

I walk alone at night
And watch the people pass me by

I'm not sure if I'm happy
Or if I'm sad
Or if that even
really
******* matters

my mistakes are mine to make
my head is mine to shake

my time is mine to waste

my bones are mine to break
my life is mine to take

I'm trying to learn how to stop hating myself
so that maybe
one day
I might even learn how to love myself

I think about the good things I have done
and try to understand the circumstances behind
all the not-so-good things I have said and done.

I think of the beautiful women
who maybe understand me better
than I understand myself

H is quitting a job she doesn't hate
because her boss told her that
she has to wear a god ****** bra
--I love her for her conviction
--she loves me, too, for some reason

A has got these voices in her head
and they're mad at her for being too busy this weekend to get ******.
--I love her for her tenacity
--she loves me, too, for some reason

M is off to Mexico
excited and afraid to pursue her dreams
instead of just talking about them
--I love her for her ambition
--she loves me, too, for some reason

If my love is reciprocated
by the three most beautiful women
I have ever had the pleasure of loving
perhaps I should find some way
to hate myself less
if only so
I can
love them more.

Kurt Vonnegut said
To write poems that no one will ever read
then throw them away
In order To be a better writer

Joke's on him.
No one reads my poems anyways
Nor would I want them
to

I don't know where to begin
I don't care how this ends
I lost my mind a million years ago

And you can't act like you're surprised
When I tell you yet another lie
It's what I said I'd do right from the start

And while you cry yourself to sleep
I sleep so well I forget to breathe
It's why we both look so tired all the time.

Broken glass shimmering like diamonds
along the shoulder of the highway.
I wonder who had to die
to place them there.

I try to find
the beauty
in every living
thing
and you once
told me
that wildflowers were
weeds.

And I don't think
You know what it's like
To need to leave
When everything around you
Is screaming not to.

That disappointment
When you leave
Anyways.

When you leave
I don't want you
to break my heart
I want you
to mutilate my soul.
Please
don’t take just a part of me
I want you
to devour me whole.

When you leave
don’t slip out
quietly at night.
Please
will you snap my spine in two?
Leave me heartbreak paralyzed
just for you.

When you leave
I want you to have left
only after having become
my everything.
I want you
to leave me
with nothing.
I want you to leave me
as nothing.
A distant shadow.
A hollow shell.
A nightmare memory
of what
I could have been
had I never loved you.

I want to love you so fully
so recklessly
that in the moment
that you leave
there would be nothing
at all
left to leave.

When you leave
please
leave me like that.

And
please
never leave.

I clean the mold out of the rice cooker
and make another ***.

Glad I caught it when I did,
before it filled up
with maggots again.

I wish you could have my body for a day
I wish you could borrow my brain
I don’t think that
you
Would think of me the same
if you could know my Pain

I wish you could have my
Dreams for one night
I wish you could know what
Night Terrors truly a felt like

The only reason that I’m still alive
Is because you’d be so *******
Sad
if I died.


The o my eeason

i never wanted nothing else
than to be an honest man
but there's only one way
for me to execute this plan:

not talking to my family or friends
not even saying goodbye
cause every time i talk to them
all i say are lies

everyone's got a suggestion
everyone has a solution
but nothing helps me sleep at night
and nothing takes my pain away

She had no mirrors in her house when I met her so
Ourselves we never could see.
But I knew that I loved her.
And she knew that she loved me.