I like 90’s grunge that
makes me want to **** myself
and not wash my hair
and drink beer,
don’t see 90’s bands
in concert,
they’re old now
and it ***** you
with the bitterness
of life,
get drunk
kiss the floor
for supporting you
and lay in comfort

I’ve been scolded at before
while smoking in front of public places,
but today she
stared at me with a
cold look and bitterness,
were you sent
to school smelling like
the couch cushions and bedsheets
and your mothers hair?
was it the ash trays beside dinner plates
and squinted grins through dancing fog
watching television with your ears?
no silence came only burning lungs
and showers, breathing with your eyes?
I’m sorry, I tried blowing smoke
the other way.

I’m not a liar
but I lie to myself,
I’m not a sociopath but
I dream of killing people,
and I know that
I’m a person at heart,
I sleep on pillows made
of memories and
listen to my own screams
and take them in as whispers,
I sleep on mattresses of
dad’s smiles and yesterday,
self identified as ignorant
and educated in night,
the sun went down
on me once and
I never came.

everyone owns
that t-shirt with
a worn hole
that they
neglect to throw out,
you are that t-shirt,
and though
torn and threadbare
a distant dead stare
will bury deeper
and purpose will grow

life is more than
eating, drinking,
*******, thinking
about regret, and neglect,
finding new ways to
keep the sadness
you curse every night
in your writing
to stick around,
holding addictions
to things you know
you shouldn’t,
watching ****
and thinking that
your *** life is less
than ropes and
fishnets,
eating food and
smoking things
you know
you shouldn’t,
saying things to loved
ones you know you
wouldn’t if you were sober,
and dwelling
and never forgetting
and never forgiving
life is realization, resilience,
and repeating mistakes,
hating yourself and loving
yourself and enduring pain
embracing serenity and reading
in-between the lines,
being able to clean
***** mirrors,
seeing reflections
in coffee, and being able
to finish it,
having ephemeral
epiphanies and going back
on your word to quit
smoking, quit drinking
and eating terrible,
being able to laugh
and cry and punch drywall
in the same day ,
life is realism,
not some realm
of imaginable
perfection, you’re going
to fill a glass with constant
**** ups, just keep finishing it
and filling it with a
manifestation of manipulation
that you have no problem
seeing past,

be an oxymoron

I’m an ******* when I drink
and the manager of the only
bar in town found that out,
I never was keen of
social drinking anyways,
everyone thinks that
drinking alone is a problem,
I think alone,
and a thought process
like mine is a lot deadlier
than liquor when left in isolation,
prioritize your worries, friends.