I smoked a cigarette
I wanted to a break from procrastination
so I walked and tried to coax out my concentration
but alas, to my frustration,
all I got were words that rhymed with 'elation'
but I missed the thing itself.
After hunting in my room
I walked down to the store
to see if my old pack of cigs was there
I could've sworn I just had them
and what do you know?
They were being held hostage behind the counter
but at least were being well-fed
noticeably bigger than when they wondered off
I liberated them with cash
and told the homeless guy outside I had nothing to give him
I smoke one on the way home
And tucked the stub into the cuff of my jeans
and I felt dizzy and a little sick
and my concentration remained shy.
My brain fog now noxious smoke
I tucked the stub into the cuff of my jeans
I hate to litter and I think I'm smart
While I smoked I imagined a million conversations
I won't have
I million bad decisions
I might yet make
And I saw
A million people
I'll never kiss
And I had ash on my pants and on my fingers

these human-built agonies
burn with familiar empty rage

the tired tumble
d
o
w
n
the senseless stupor,
numbing the burning sting of a
tear

I am not really here
It's too hard to care
Living's just habitual and
Breathing's just a ritual
I'm an actor just playing out a script

I'm not depressed, no
I'm just fish who doesn't know
She's been pulled from the water and
I'm not real, no, not nobody's daughter so
When I jump they'll say I slipped

I run amok
gin-struck
I make myself
a fool of myself
a myself of a fool
A stray
hunting for a light
an ashtray
or a fight
Looking for someone
to kiss goodbye
or looking just to end the night
Stalking the floor
head forward eyes mean
looking for more
for a bottle
and a break from being me

The flame's kiss
The blade's caress
The dripping, drooling, pooling, hot
Blood

It's the only touch
the only love
I need

Help!
There's a man standing in the mirror
He's got a mean grin
And a dorsal fin,
Blue tentacles
And cruel eyes
Though I don't know why he cries.

He has pointy ears, and horns of lead.
My haircut sits upon his horned head
Black hooves lead up to furry legs
Wrapped in my good skirt!
He's in my nice shirt!
(You know it, the one with the polkadots)
.
.
.
Must admit though, I'm looking pretty hot.

Capsized

Baptised in soft lies,
Wrapped in easy fears,
He cries.

Crocodile tears

I'll keep falling in Love
With everyone I see
With anyone who's better at being me
Than me
Cause there's just too much to be
If you can't be you

You're Blind.
But you don't mind
Because you're so kind
Black hair, blue eyes
You won't even try
to try.
So you lie.
And you cry.
But you're not sly
You don't mean to cut
With your devilish strut,
but-
well
      I'm resigned
To be blind.

'God,' I ask,
'What else is there, but you?'

'Nothing.' I respond

everytime i see You.

Feel the gentle roll of the deck
the splash against your fearful grin
Feel the endless expanse around you
the endless constriction within
Feel the water's pull
the need to give in
Feel it surround you
the cold against your skin
Feel the mounting pressure
the mounting calm
the beautiful dark

tonight i am miserable
and angry and lonely
but thats to be expected
isnt it
so i write something without pointless subtlety or care
as i settle in for another tonight
another tonight in this stupid heart
this broken brain
another drunken tonight
with unremembered conversations on the phone
with everyone who cares drifting further
trying not to let me notice
another shot please
tequila
with a beer chaser
with lying on the floor
bathed in my own disgusting, pitiful
melancholy


So here's to another tonight!

This diamond sky
Isn't what put the stars in our eyes

An ethereal impermanence
Inherent to isolation
Permeates perception.

It drips down the the
Stalactites
Of loneliness,
Pooling inky black,
Drooling endlessly
Until my very end.

Maybe it's okay to sleep
to sleep
to sleep
to dream
to cry
to die
to fly
Maybe this immateriality
is real
is it?
is it
the falsity of fact
that caresses me with
nothingness?
Maybe this softness
this impactless
this empty
imaginary
empty
screaming
screaming hellscape
is good
...
if nothing is real
you cant be touched

Dreams are meant to be sweet
right?
Dreams are meant to be sweet
but I've always hated sleep.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder
yours is in your cold shoulder

The dawn quiet
Loud enough to drown out the noise

I can feel it just beneath my skin
Bubbling and pulsating and choking
me from the inside
Just under the surface, under the ice
is a hopeless cold
trying to consume the last of my body
but this time I want to write something optimistic
so I square up and fight it
and I might well lose
Oh well, whatever happens is just prose

I know you hardly know me
You know I don't know you
I know you know what I was thinking
You know I know you do
I know you think that I'm presumptuous
You know I think that's untrue
You know what I want us to do
I know you want to too

If you know what I mean?  ; )