I never liked Brenda.
She's manipulative,
likes to ******-analyze people,
and she gaslights Nate.
Oh, and she's a *** addict as well
she has cheated on Nate
more times than I can remember.

I never told Nate about her
he found out on his own.

Nate isn't much better though
he got another chick pregnant
so he cheated on her as well
but as a person overall
he is likeable— unlike Brenda.

Nate has a condition
it's called AVM
it's a malformation
in his brain arteries.

He is currently under the knife
he has a bleed in his brain
they are trying to fix it.

Before the surgery
I saw Nate crying
in his mother's embrace
he kept saying he didn't want to go
and his mother said
he was going to be ok.

I cried a little.
I hope Nate has a chance
of being a dad
I think he would be good at it
and I don't think
I'll ever see Brenda again
but I hope she finds someone
and she recovers from her addiction.

I don't know what's going to happen
I hope that in season 3
of six feet under
Nate doesn't board the bus
that took his father
into the after life...

You know, I hesitate
going in season 3
no, not because I'm afraid
that Nate is going to die
but because I know
that would never care as much
for an actual friend
the same way I care for fictional characters
and that says a lot about me
I only allow myself
to empathize —
when it's fake.

The youngest crawled into bed
with mom while we were watching videos
he said there were
two types of veins
inside of us.

Blue and green.

And that he wanted his brother
to get out of the pool
because he had blue veins.

he was concerned
that his older brother
would get too cold,
his hands would get shriveled,
and would get slippery.

He said he also had—
blue veins

and that's why he yelled
at his brother to get out of the pool.

But that now—
he has green veins

as he touched his belly
he  explained,
why he wanted
his brother to get out of the pool.

His mother told him
that he can just explain next time
that he doesn't want his brother
to get blue veins.

Well, I usually
have green veins
but we watched:
'The last of us'
and Joel just died.
I cried a little along with Ellie
even though he was not a good man
I think he had green veins.
Even if —
they were blue.

I saw road **** tonight.

I was walking
on the side walk
towards home
with a buddy of mine
and he pointed it out
"Look at that
poor thing,
what is it?"

I walked
into the middle of the road
just to inspect it further.
a coat of brown spikes,
white fur, and —
bright red guts.
Fresh.

It was a hedgehog
on the spotlight
given by street lamps.
Judging by the size of the coat
it was big and fat
it reminded me
of the one I have at home.

It also made me think
of Jeffery Dahmer
what he did with road ****
and where that lead.
I'm not saying that I feel that way
but the guts were shiny
under the Moonlight
I thought that they
had this certain kind of beauty.
A dead rat
and life goes on
like nothing ever mattered.

My friend was upset
about it.
"The **** who did this
probably did it on porpuse!"

I wasn't. I was raised in a farm
I've seen worse.
"Dude,
he probably
didn't even see it
coming."

Neither of them did.

If you don't get my point,
Picture this:
One day you're walking home
with groceries
you're not paying atention
you cross the road
and there it comes
lights flashing
coming your way
no time to react —
THUMP.

You're on the floor
bleeding out.

Jesus hugged you
with that license plate
and you didn't realize it.

Anyways,
The car backs up,
turns right,
it rushes out of there.
Hit and run.
Behind the wheel?
A ******* hedgehog.

That's the beauty of it.

Life just happens
it owes you nothing
yet you think that
it owes you—
your life.

I convinced someone
to quit smoking yesterday
I said:
"replace the need
with hard candy
non sugar
so you don't **** up
your teeth."

and then I tossed everyone
one of my hard candies.

"To break the rituals
instead of smoking after a meal
drink a tea instead
a black tea or green
stop drinking coffee as well
while you're at it."

Then I brew everyone
a hot cup of black tea.

Then I grabbed my pack
ripped in half but I took one cig out first
and I said:
"this is the most important step
to give it up. Will power."
then I grabbed
the last untouched cigarette
and broke it in half.
and said:
"this one doesn't matter as well."

I was so convincing
that this friend of mine
gave my other friend
their ounce of tobbacco.

Today I met up with the same friend
that decided to keep on smoking
the one who was safe keeping
that ounce of tobbaco
and I rolled a cigarette
out of that ounce
he told me
it was the most awful thing
he has ever seen.

the cigarrette wasn't that good
and it was not
the most awful thing I've ever done.

I just  laughed,
shrugged and said:
" I paid for his Uber
consider us even."

I died yesterday.
I will die today.
I've been dying
since I was born.

Every memory I have
lies six feet under me
a dead man lived them
not me.

Everything I've ever experienced
all the tooth ache,
heart ache,
even the smell of my arm pit
when I didn't shower
for a week.

Everyone I've interacted with
everyone I will interact with
has and will be talking
to a dead man
although I look forward
for tomorrow's black tea.

The person who just wrote this
is about to die
but don't you tear up now
because that person has changed
even if only
a little.

I've got an acting gig
coming up
in a couple of weeks.
I'll either play
Joe Goldberg
or some other serial killer.
I recorded myself
to practice
for when I get
the real deal.

My woman said
the first take was better
I also thought
It wasn't bad.

After that I went to the kitchen
I picked up an orange.
I have a strange way
of eating oranges
I slice it up like a plus sign
into four pieces
then I peel the bottom,
and then I put it in my mouth,
and do the rest with my teeth.
But sometimes I just
go in straight with my teeth
and I don't peel it at all
the juice from the orange
drips down my chin
makes its way through
my beard, it softly scans
the back of my hands
until it finally hits the counter.

I eat oranges
like I should eat
at any restaurant—
with no table manners.

I eat oranges the way I write
the way I make love to you
how I know you can be delicate
but I still take you
with my teeth in bed.

Even in the way I act.

I dedicate passion
in all that I do.
I give you all—
the ugly, the good,
God forbid
you admit
that the way I live
is *******
beautiful.

I told someone:
I believe people
should write
from their gut—
and maybe their
gut was an atom.

Then I laughed,
while my dog
was laying on my chest,
and went on
with more comments.

An hour or so later,
while watching a show
with my girl,
sharing my screen,
I decided to check on AP.

"That guy who was
a **** to you
on your awesome poem
gave you a 1-star
on your comment."

I read my comment again,
looked at the 1-star review,
and we laughed
even harder
than I did by myself
an hour before.

My dog spun around—
his *** turned to me
as he decided
enough was enough
and the world
had done him
no good deeds today,
and that warranted
sleep by my socks
much like guts
that are the size of atoms.

After that,
we continued to watch:
Six Feet Under.