i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.

If I could write you a song
To make you fall in love
I would already have exhausted
Every existing note
And created some new ones just for you.
I'd master every instrument
And grow extra arms
So I could serenade you
With a symphony just half as beautiful as your soul.
If I could write you a song
To make you fall in love
I would already have exhausted
Every combination
Of our twenty-six letters.
I'd master every language
And grow extra tongues
So I could serenade you
With a symphony just half as beautiful as your soul.
If I could write you a song
To make you fall in love
It'd be a duet
Because you play too
And I don't like how my voice sounds
Without yours accompanying it.
We'd play together
So we could serenade each other
With a symphony just half as beautiful as our love.

I am the gaping hole in your heart
you pour your insecurities into
full-force, I am your canyon.

I am the one you want when
you don't know what it is you want,
and I am to the brim
with your own past

And I still come back with my
Addiction for affection because
I need to keep the void
filled until I can't remember
what my own baggage is for

I just wanted to come
and wish you well.

Farewell.

Sometimes it just doesn’t happen,
the kiss I had for you.

You were why I liked looking up to the sky and being thankful I was alive
But our love is dead and so am I and I hope you can understand why I quit