I feel like no one ever hears me

    I speak
and their eyes glaze over;
maybe I'm polite
but nobody cares about my side of things.

They walk around me
and pretend I'm not there.

will tussle with their **** as I'm sitting there as my shadow pours over them.
I'm not there.

I can sing to a crowded room
and no one's eyes
watch me;
I am truly invisible.   I'm not even sure
I exist, but here we
are

you use my loneliness as a weapon

you reach out only to infest

you're a vicarious ****
, you revel in my sadness,
   the taste is
sweet, and if I'm buried
into my casket you will leap

rid you of me
rid every bit of you

rid you of me
exorcise
these demons from my head

I get sad seeing pictures of her with the new guy,
rubbing his back
and kissing etc etc.

I'm a ******* I guess in the sense that I search this stuff out intentionally.

I need to know how she's doing and apparently she's doing well.

but I see in the eyes of the wimp a very familiar expression.

he just recently went down on her and now he wants out and is feigning his affection.
   he's been drained of his money to buy frivolous ****.
  he's been punched in the gut for saying an innocuous joke.
he's been forced to clean up her 3 dog's piles of **** and stay up to 5 am arguing on a work night because of a manic episode.

    She is unlovable
but I somehow loved her, and for that I must forgive
myself

I love my cat
because she hates me.

she brings home half-mutilated mice
and crickets
and throws them on my bed.

I yell at her then I pet her.

I spent a whole $100 on her which is a lot of money;

if she leaves tomorrow, I understand.

please just don't go with the black cat

up at 4:43 writing a poem as though writing a good one will change anything.
I have 600 poems and nothing has changed.

maybe it allows me to notarize and organize my life in certain stages by writing this stuff
even though I can go months without composing anything.

But maybe I'll say something which finally
       allows me to run naked through the hills.

something which allows me to go behead the president and take a ****
in front of a news camera on the most prominent station.
If I **** my own ****
it's only due to my long neck;
6-7 inches is nothing nowadays when competing with **** in which  every female is a consumer.

I am for sure
going to the post office tomorrow; my book of zen arrives.
It says be water, so I'll run

I cooked her a bowl of rice
with some sausages slathered in butter. The rice hadn't
been washed
so it turned into a sort of mush.
I'm a generaly pretty accomplished cook being that it's been my profession the last 10 years, but this was embarrassing.
She ate it anyway though and started clinking the bottom of the bowl with her spoon
indicating she really enjoyed it
"Thank you, I really enjoyed that" she said and
then kissed me

It was the first time a man ever cooked for her.
normally she'd get ******
and have Burger King nuggets after.
I made  her 10 cent rice and then ****** her
but also cared somewhat
too

it's an odd feeling knowing that I will one day indeed finally end my life.

It's nice knowing that there is some finality, so I have no need to worry.
I just wanna say a few more things
before I go.

Probably the same things a 100 more times then I should be content

living in a home with 6 people like
  some monkey;
no privacy to ******* of
   or
to take a **** without smelling someone's own recent
evacuation.

   I want to fly out the window
and into a  coma.
I want to stick needles up my *******
like Albert Fish and
eat succulent butts.

I was born in 94, the year all my idols died.

I 'm confined to a room and am tired of seeing people. I 'm tired of the noses and faces and furrowed brows and chewed off toenails
and funky
        hair dos.

I wanna be a runaway with no grave marker; still born and as elusive as peace

Why do I continue to keep in touch with this person?
Why do I fail to remember all the misery and dysfunction
and anxiety induced in being confined to a plainly doomed situation?

Why do I need to be friends with this person? why can't I just
let the hate fester like most?
I am too empathic and compassionate
and genuinely want the best for this person even though they scammed
my credit card less than 2 weeks ago


I should be caving in their car window
and throwing a molotov cocktail through their house,
or leaving a
       note;

why do I go back?
why do I feel like I can get the time back that was lost

I see them moving around in there
it's an old dilapidated cabin on the corner of the street,
and the town ****-heads
and transients like to go in there and squat and put up blankets
on the windows
to indicate their presence there so they can shoot dope and **** in peace.

There's a dead dog tied to a leash which is in the final stages of decay;
and a shirtless man named Mark works on his wheeless truck set up on cement blocks and has a headless manequen propped on the roof

      One night I throw a heaping pile of dog **** through the window and hear someone yell back
"I'LL **** YOUUU"

When I awake the next morning all the are cars gone.
They probably left on account of it being 12 degrees and not having
any electricity.  Someone forgot to pay the bill

Whatever it takes to be good, I wanna be less.

Good isn't living up to their ideals, it is living up to your own
Be great

I remember Rust
Putting his **** up my **** with the thorns
I said no
But his moldy breath evaporated in my headache and the hot **** was good then, like chock late milk.
But I wanted another straw so I opened my curtains and went fishing and saw you there.. You were performing surgery on a baby and put a donut in its belly, but
I still went to the sock hop the next day with you, cause I love you
Maybe

Book book book 3 yelled
Clowns and a pipe with two
Stems

Hurted by forget repossessed paper clips in may lark dig

Who in the same by real have a shout sure of go

When you start you
Start to fly

being bugged at all hours,
at all hours, the ******* phone.

I wish I could incinerate it;
I will, one day.

or I will just end everything and the phone could be collateral damage

sleeping giants

in a trash bag
with the toothbrush
bent like a crackpipe under your boot.
why do you pretend you know so much?
  you know so little and that makes you one to admire;  strike up a conversation with a gypsy
and the
lighter magic will sway with you then.

   but if ukraine
dies, so does the maybe kids

human relations bother me,

they're too much for someone who doesn't need much.
I try to be stoic, but they want me to be a faithful consumer and to give up all of me

I want love but hookers are expensive.
I want silence
but the tinnitus keeps me up at night.
I want solitude but the brick is a little too stiff to sleep on. I want death, but to see it for myself.
and I can't wait to see it

she blocked me finally, well I did first, but she had the last word.
2.1 years gone.
Some say the best way to look at it is as though it was a chapter.
What did you learn?
And if nothing, there's always a new story

I need to prioritize my health again and that means
mental health  too
.

That means absences from all the calls,
and time wasters; people looking to be strung along because they can't find their own path.

you need to detox,
and it takes a lot of self-reflection and
BOREDOM.

boredom heals in the same way starvation
cannibalizes
a tumor through autophagy. give yourself some

time

The reality is we'll all die alone
I'd thought maybe you'd be there
to guide me
through the next realm.
but the reality is
I'll be there alone.

in the fabric of time and space, we are one,
but
  here we're on our own

I was nuzzled in her chest, crying, sorry for what had become of our relationship and for what ultimately ended it.
She rubbed my back
and consoled me a bit
and asked if I wanted something for the road.
I declined.
As I walked away into the afternoon light
to my car
I felt regret and a looming despair of which I was justified
in sensing since that night would become absolute hell.
hopelessness and pure self-pity
fractured self-esteem.
razor cuts and more tears, and wallowing in a melancholic feedback loop reminiscing of good times which really weren't all that good.

then I opened the app and I saw her holding hands with some
nerd,
posted just after I left - that was really ******.
I thought I was ******, I guess just slightly

There's nothing better than opening your phone
or notifications and seeing multiple messages from girls
infinitely more attractive and sweet than your
ex

I don't care at this point, she was a selfish cow, indignant and refused to change,
so I had to make the change.

The only issue with all this is getting anything
done when
your **** is constantly getting
******

I got a like by a guy,
His name was Mystery

So intriguing and conjuring up images of a night club hack

Poets are usually named Phil
Or Jane

Never the

4:57
The time for the dead girls
To eat me and sing their songs of love

The time for my leaking lungs to breathe in the last of
Your air

The widowed lady sits crying for you and her nails gently screech along the
Tile,
She hungers for the silent one. Suffering too soon and the smock barely
Faded

Fried moth goth in a stew with your whiskey **** I ****** good **** today
and ****** you under a door mat with my long foot but I had ***** ******.
Why did jovi then go washing the rocks?
You spit on him like a gooky *****, why now do I see it?
Haha
When Jordan was there I still freed fire flies
"Do as thou wilt" which side are you on dude.. The side with another slice of pastrami.
I feel it so much more when it starts

So sad I barely feel any anger anymore.
I dreamed of lashing out
at one point but for what purpose?

Acclaim,
passing notoriety?

I am nothing and I will return to nothing.
I need to cease all notions of ego and pride.

Just need to be as docile and accepting as a rabbit as it's picked off by a coyote. You served your purpose. Or maybe there was none, but it's time to leave anyway.

Quit my job today, the phone
rings and it's transcribed to me, desperation, but they cut my hours so
I don't give a ****.

I'm barely coherent I feel and this poem is awful. Lacking soul. I've lost my soul and confidence. My self esteem is nothing. I am less than fly ****, I am frothing maggoty waste.
I am a skid on the road after the rolling head barked at me.

I lost my love and so I lose my mind. I wish words could help me.  This last fit will
do me in

Writing broken hearted poems like everyone else. It's part of the human condition and I feel no shame, I just wish I never had to write one. That's something other people write, I thought my love was impenetrable, it wasn't.

Love is forever they say, through all the nights of psychosis and turmoil and uncertainty, love is forever

Through all the days dreaming of acres of bliss among the green hills and your animals free and alive, love is forever.

Through all the kisses on your wrist when you no longer had the strength to continue, love is forever.

Through all the mania and pain and poverty and suffering, love is forever.

When you weaped uncontrollably and I left for some days because I had to attend to my mental health,
our love was still forever, so why would you betray me?

I knew when you made these promises that I'd be looking back now as a naíve fool, but the love was still real in those moments, it just wasn't forever..

It was easy today, looking in the mirror, combing my hair. I didn't shudder from the ugliness I merely turned my head to the mermaid on the wall playing a harp.

When I put my shoes on I went for a ride on my bike and this gothic girl was lighting a candle by the Christian altar ; I saw her stained sword by the rock wall and then she left before I could confront her.
In simpler times I probably would have put something in her , but I don't do that with the surveillance next door.
So I just sat there for a while then tossed a half drank Heineken at Jesus' face; he shattered into dust and I almost felt bad but they used cheap alabaster **** which made me pity the Creator.

I walked along the dried lake and took an automated picture.
I got sun and my head felt better. Still I work tomorrow, still I hate

Hate that I know too much. Hate that I feel every transgression but that's the price of being alive

***** it all out, chunks of it, putrid tonsillitis muck which glimmers in the summer air

I want free of this madness. Songs are driving me crazy in the sense that they repeat and say so little but mean so much because I want to be a star
Or maybe I want love, maybe I want attention maybe I want what everyone else wants which is something to ease the pain of it all
I want bliss
And I want to forget that I am nothing

Blossomed trees gently swaying
Rivers slowly dancing
Footprints slowly drying in the winter gloom
Centipedes curling with the heat
Hearts beating with the shadowed leaves
Eyes closing with omnipotent death
Your hands clasped in your lap
The last thing you wrote was
"anew"
The last breath you drew was today

Escort
Picked her up on"Eagle" and H
"Hey babe what's your rate?"
"120"
"Okay get in, let's have fun :)"
She gets in and it's pleasant. Her name is Jaeda, and is a soft Latina, smooth and tiny, young. I rub her thigh. Im not a cop. She smiles. She tells me of her home. We drive to the motel. It reeks of smells. I take off my clothes.
"woah your tattoos are crazy"
She slips on a ****** and inserts me in her mouth and starts *******. Bobbing up and down I rub her neck. I hear footsteps upstairs and a screaming lady. I'm hard. She says to insert into her now and mount. I do that and start thrusting. I start pounding her little teen *****, tight as my fist. I pound and pound and she moans and asks something about my hair. It's casual and the *** is an afterthought. I finish and *** and she puts her clothes on and it's as though I didn't even **** her and had her toes in my mouth mere seconds ago. Sweet girl but like a phantom, like most of life's experiences. I drive her back to her spot. Motown plays and cars keep whisking away. I stretch out my hand to kiss hers and say
"Thank you"
She laughs and walks to the street. A shadow obscures her form and I drive home.

Given to god and the flies like the shapely things they are with maggoty arms and lungs full of cement I Dance on craning heads and hit my face in the pool duck
Raining over everyone, nirvana in the sense that faith is delusion I pick away a subtle man in the flow with your hammy down wrapper *** rag in a fat pig origami *****
Set on fire, what was once faith means annihilation. "See me at 5" the choir lunges, l sing til dawn , I pick up the last of the leaves. Soon and everyone goes to heaven

Addicted to my phone. It used to mean you were a nerd loser when you stared at a screen for an incomprehensible amount of hours, now it's the standard condition.
I ******* with my phone in my hand and lick the screen of the salty *** like all hetero men of today. I watched newly born kittens fed to pythons. I watch a beheading In Brazil as the guy gets his nuts bit off by a dog and is fed his own tongue. I watch reruns of whose line is it anyway, with cinnamon toast crunch like a man child because that is the zenith of existence. Never bleeding, only breathing in recirculated air. Your ***** are as weak as a clump of mud. You sold yourself to watch more screens, you knew it meant dulling The pain, but prolonging the horror of an infinite circuit ******. What was the point, when you could have just died? You could have seen the real lights

Reading this book, it reminds me of myself, when I was gay
A little gay boy just existing in a world of delusion.

My girlfriend cant talk without a latent irritation.
I texted her a bit ago and she's still gone.
Well i ate a ripe mango
"I'm going to retire soon" said he.
59 years were already spent, your debt is incalculable. I laid down with you in that pit
I left my mango there as well and hid in my Scion xa. I play the worst music. I waste a lot of time but if it doesn't matter then what hurts about it?
You're goddless like all the rest. When I was rotting I found my head rolling along the carpet with the drag race king. *******, you *******. Jam

I pushed a good amount of laundry into the box. You left a few things in your desk. Leave then please
My number is 555-666 I'm a heretic my room is 29 my fingers are cold

6 people died today in a parade
They became part of the display
I pulled my lazy boy down and remembeed why I'm proud to be American, that means sitting when a ****** marching band skimpers forth with some soulless katy Perry admist a Kellogg's float. You're dead and you don't even remember when it happened

Sat down, fed the dogs , fingered some ***, ****** a mtf's hole, and squirted in her mouth, I was daddy she was 18 so it was consensual with strawberries
Bought slippers, and went to bed.
Made dinner, then posted on here. Girlfriend came home. I went to bed.
Got some chips and tilted the fan. How are you my darling. It's now late

I keep saying every year that this is the day of celebration which finally means absolutely nothing, but I was wrong, there was an even greater threshold for me not giving a ****.
I'm just getting tired of living this flat circle existence

Lost in so many ways. Losing my girlfriend, lost all my friends, losing my hair and my mind. I can only speak through a phone, and in there I find soulless circuitry. My name means nothing to me now, I was orphaned sometime ago. I want to crawl in the woods and dig my pit. It never goes away, I just make friends with the same strangers and acquaintences, weary of the breeze and the trembling leaves

Blaring monkey with the subwoofer
So close to committing homicide,
  I hope the tune was worth it.

I want to be with my girlfriend, but I hate not being able to be alone. ***** me up like a
vacuum, wherever I go, I follow
Want to be gone in a grey beam,
taken by something obvious. Your heaven in ribbons.
  Time to let her know

Ads? Pretty sad, on the one clean place I had.
Makes me feel bad,
Like I lost a friend to death,
Of the slow kind. Eating at his force. Explode. Painted by sheep, because no one is true. Haha

Couldn't believe it, I planted a tree, and where was the false
God?

When I look away I fall forward. Nice  to know, account down, so was the  
promise of reclusion. I always find my way back

People hate nature because they see the chaos inherent
in its form,
This reminds then of the unknown and
ultimately death
They aren't in control

Death awakened me and it was like a handshake in pale light. I felt the immediate reverberation of a dismal fleck of starlight harangued in the glossy aether.
   To pass away meant passing by. The painter wipes the last of the blue hues on his apron, the weathered book clasps shut, I see a dog running and a fountain trickle down a path to my home. Somewhere I've never been, but always remembered.

Alone in every sense.
I read to my self my words that sit crumpled.
I pick up a gay rose and eat it.  No where to go but up.  Down is a destination too. You learn a little bit more about yourself when you're down. My legs snap like a watermelon,  the putrid **** is stitched in my clothes.  Valiant hands salute. I spit on your flag. I spit on tyrants. I spit on collectives with no instilled values other than consumption. I laugh at every opportunity.  I  feed the mouse that sits in a log. It's been a long day and my eyes hurt.  Someone is yelling me that isn't me.  My head hurts too. Who knew

I.  I.  I. I I.
   I. I. I
    
   e L \ <.
   t i m

ee0=ves
  
  e46
i. w was there
  i.  i.   i.  felt
a f0-aint
  zs0-hiver .  whos0-e. room.    luc0-ky 0-horn
4 w0-as
    the0- sun
  .    2. 2  2 2 2 2 2 2 2m.


        wa0-in.   9 9 wha0-t was

   0+ 0 = -0
-2 = =3-  
-0

jim
  And a hand
Game now 2.
"Lightening the load, the offenders"
Grey wash.
Buzzard musk.
Mucousy and white, flesh flute, patted down in squares. Little green squares full of time
⬛  juxtaposed with a moth  head and flying into cold flame

If I knew anything I would have just kept quiet.
If I knew anything I surely would have never met you. I get in these lapses, I forget about the soft landing and the harsh freezes.
I wish I knew my self more. For what reason do I look out this window, with black lungs which spell my fortune.
I don't need to know.  I wander along to my  big red bed.
   So many roses .  It's the same

Throbbing along. Grieving one.  Where did you go.  Where did the water drain down.  A ******* was not too far.  I walked there and fell. Broke my nose on the glass

PEARL

moldovite. it didn't work ⁸