You said my face felt
like sandpaper, as you kissed
me with your hand sliding
from my ear down to my neck.

I told you I shaved
my scruffy beard a day before
because you deserved
to see me looking my best.

But even my best wasn't enough
for you to stay in Illinois.
You decided a year ago
to run away to Colorado,
and I would be an anchor
weighing you, dragging
you into a darkened ocean.

I read the Surgeon General's Warning
As I inhale my sorrows
And exhale all troubles
And a slight tinge of worry crawls up my spine
I replaced relationships with cigarettes
Poison with poison
As I sigh and allow the guilt to melt away
Letting it drip into the deepening pool at the bottom of my conscience
I allow myself the small comfort of knowing
At least the cancer sticks
Come with a warning label

you people talk about
alcohol,  drugs
***
and money
these are your poison
these are you honey.

and these poisons
make you giggle
and dream
laugh
make you scream.
these are your poisons.

and they make you feel
hungover
and cold
sore
and empty
but these are still your poisons.

but my poison
is that of your eyes
your milky blue liquid
that fills those two lies

my poison
lies
between your fingers
where all your secrets
hide
that's where I find
all your troubles linger

my poison lies
in the tangles of your hair
let your chest calm and rise
as you don't notice my stare.
these are your poisons.

my poison lies in
your empty bed
no pillow, no head.
where you left my embrace
and you poisoned my  grace.

As I smoke a cigarette
On the front porch
Where I once declined
I listen in my memories
To my sister yelling at my mom
In a crowded Mexican restaurant
That she should be allowed
To love both my mom
And my dad
But then our food finally came
And my cigarette
Finally goes out
Having mostly burned
Without help from my lungs

Every inane, ignorant, stupid, barbaric, primitive conversation you're hearing at the check out line you're counting on your fingers to see if it adds up to 10 and figuring you can always make you're you are when it adds up to 9.

I got a couple dents in the fender
Of my ****** car,
A couple rips in my best pair
Of my cheap jeans.
My scuffed up high tops
Are wearing thin,
Imperfection is my
New best friend.
My favorite t-shirt has
A couple of holes,
And my wallet's thinner than
My shoe's soles.
The scars on my skin
Are bright and white.
Imperfection is my
New best friend.
The streets of my ghetto
Are graffitied and dark,
And the knives in our pockets
Always stay sharp.
Though my best has a couple
Of nicks and cracks.
Imperfection is my
New best friend.