I
Was there on a visit.
Helen, was in the bedroom
Gordon, was sitting in his swivel chair.
They were like grandparents to me.
Their lounge was decorated in the style
Of Charles R. Macintosh.
Helen came into the lounge and told
Gordon off about leaving a glass by
Their bedside...it was musty.
I laughed to myself
They were, though wise, a typical couple
And
I enjoyed their company
Very much.

I began to cry.
Helen came to me and asked,  ' What's wrong, son?'
'I am happy to see you both!' I replied.
'Then, why cry? said Helen.
......' Because... You're both dead!'
Helen, and Gordon, looked at each other
Puzzled...I woke up.

Just war
war is acceptable
if it's self defence
unjust war
is unacceptable
a terrorist offence
invasion
of a nation
take resources and land
just or unjust
in my opinion all war should be banned

And I am tortured by regret,
things I've not done yet.
Thinking this defines me.

And I cannot deny
that I'm terrified
of fading to black.

I used to cherish every doubt--
now unsure in what I've found:
my instability was transparent
and now it's apparent...

And I now keep the lights on,
lay in a cold bath until warm.
My lips, so purple and svelte,
have sealed all I have felt.

And I stay a static transplant,
a homely nomadic infant,
stumbling towards the abyss,
thinking it's what I've missed.

I used to utilize the past,
stretching time, but at last,
the only fire I've consumed
will soon fade to black...

Money melting in a spoon,
let's shoot it into our veins.
Flashing Kardashian lights,
streaming into our brains.
Donald Trump! He's our man!
Mark Muslims is the plan!

All-you-can-eat-
Pile. It. The. ****. High.
When you walk or
When you talk,
let the words squeak out
like they're between
Your thighs.

Thighs. American thighs,
Dreaming next to our Calvins.
Our slacktivism, our regurgitated ideas
spitballing out of our McDonald's mouths
into our peers' ears, distilled by years
And years of "almost-knowledge"
that we quasi-ascertained,
if we knew what that meant --
but we've been left behind!
No child left the **** behind!
We were left behind and there's no
possible way we slacked off, that we're dumb,
that we aren't the movie stars destined for
Lamborghini cars, five-star bars, designer bodies
for designer you and designer me:
the most special of the unique, the
Pearls that have been made in the
darkest parts of the sea, the darkest parts of
origin. Origin. ******. ****.
American ****: virginal ideals sliding around
the muck of a marketable ****, fuckfest,
******* of the American mind, the
congratulations of the American ego,
the proud mother and father tears associated with
buying and lying, "trying" and frying our food,
our ideas, our friends, our neo-impressionistic
children in Jordans, skinny jeans, on tumblr:
the unknowing cousin of Fox News, surprised
by its own wit and wisdom: they're ******* twins.
Carbon copies, unknowing, unwilling, un-un-un.

The romanticism of mental illness.
The close-up of reality-tv emotion.
The manipulation taught to servers
from managers.
The manipulation taught to customers
from society.

All we care about is ****, image, and ***.
Self-preservation: **** Donald Trump
and *******.

The moon is out
At her usual time
Only the sky is bright
Blended in white clouds
A blue background
Kissed by the sun's rays
on the other side
As the moon enjoys
Her unexplored view
She is blown away
By all the natural colors
Vibrant and alive

I am,
Fascinated by this image
The sun and moon
Share the sky
In the spring
The love that radiates
In contrast
As they beam in unison
In circular beauty
A moment in the universe
That proves us
We are all connected
In some way
Our very own
yin-yang
On display to teach us
Significance of our existence

Jl 2016

I'm trying to find the words to write about you
I don't have an idea of what to say
Because you don't feel real anymore
You feel like a dream I had a few nights ago that was inevitably cut short.
It's so hard to get out how I feel when everything I want to say is stupid and pointless because it never happened.
I have conversations we had, and I have the memories, but I don't have proof these things exist outside my own head.
The you in my memories isn't the same you as today who can't look me in my eye.