I've forgotten how to write
I hold this pen like a knife
Threatening to cut and hack
Scars I thought had healed
But still bleed profusely
Coloring the black and white
Of my unfinished tattoos

::The ones I got to erase the memories of you...How fitting it seems they do the opposite of their intentions::

                    There is ink and blood on the paper in front of me
                    Jackson *******'s Rorschach Test

What is it I'll see I wonder
As the words bleed from me;
Draining and filling lines
              That will be crumbled and discarded into the waste basket
              Along side empty bottles, used condoms, and undelivered love letters

The next page awaits this emptiness.

I want to live life in a Bob Ross painting
With serene monstrous mountains far off in the distance
The peak half covered by happy little clouds
A happy little tree and it’s many brothers and sisters
Blanketing the landscape of light snowfall and growing bushes
A small cabin bathed in melting snow rests comfortably
Next to a thawing private lake lit by a cadmium yellow sun

This is where I want to live
Swarmed in colors of titanium white,
Phthalo green and blue,
Midnight black,
Alizarin crimson,
And Indian yellow

Where there are no mistakes
Only happy accidents
Where the big decisions
And the tests of courage are
Where the next tree will go

In a Bob Ross painting
I could live peacefully

I will die
Before my time is over
I will die
Before your touch touches me
I will die
Before you know the truth
I will die
Before I know freedom
I will die
Before this drink is drunk
I will die
Before this cigarette extinguishes
I will die
Before I finish this poe...

I wrote this poem just for you
With my mind racing and my heart beating
Among amorous feelings and thoughts of you
My love for you is and always will be true

You are my eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
You are the one I can never leave behind
When I first met you I knew it was a sign  
You are so implausibly beautiful to my eyes

You deserve the world's grandest jewels
Emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, amethysts
And anything else that money can buy

When we met each other some time ago
From the first time we said 'Hello'
I knew you’d be the one
To bestow my life with love and fun

My words forever fail to express
What I felt when you said ‘Yes’
To a Taco Bell hot sauce packet
That said ‘Will You Marry Me?’

And when I held you near
On the coldest day of the year
When we both said ‘I Do’
And you became my wife
I knew that our love was true
That we’d always be together
To see this movie we call life
All the way thru

We’ve had our ups and downs
But eternal bliss is where we’re bound
Together in each other’s embrace
Everything we long for will come around  

You are the only thing I need
I’d sell my words, my talents, and me
If you’d agree to proceed
To be mine everlasting
And never sever our affection
And always retain
This one piece of information:

No matter what comes our way
I will always love you
Each and every day

She said she was an artist
******* on the barrel of a gun
Deep throated in her mouth
Maintaining that certain lack of gag reflex
That her boyfriends always loved
She let a sly smile escape her lush lips
As she lovingly caressed the trigger closed
Splattering brains, blood,
And other fragments of her mortality
On the canvas behind her crumpled body
This is her final work of art
Her final masterpiece
This is her goodbye

Free unrestricted journal publications
Words are bombs, dropping ink and paper
Typeface whistle blower and in your face
Chasing stories and truth, free the gonzo
The revolution in print, internet, television
Notepads, computers, and wi-fi
Liberated publication for all open eyes
A world of free thinkers and literary fact
No comment from the silent advertisers
Their payment in truth concealing lies
The United Censoring Of America
The political principles of censorship
Glory or death, guts and congratulations
No justice, no peace, no surrender
We’ve got the voice louder than power
The accuracy of enigmatic liberty

"You been writing anything lately man?"

"Just IOUs for the government, lawyers, and people who used to call me their friends."

"Sounds rough," Berkley remarked.

Harvard did not respond back. Instead he stared past Berkley's red tipped spiked hair to the girl behind him, watching the small movements she made while dancing to the band onstage. Harvard felt hypnotized by the shake of her hips and the way her quick dye black hair swayed to the left and to the right every time one of her feet left the ground as if she were walking in place.

"...all I'm saying is that someone should do something..."

Berkley was talking. Harvard couldn't focus. He heard his voice somewhere on the peripheral of reality but could not zero in on it. His eyes remained transfixed on the dancer.

"...it's all about helping. You feel drawn to it, ****** in almost to the rush you get from..."

Clips of Berkley's voice echoed in Harvard's ears. Sound bites of a conversation he knew he was part of but couldn't join in on.

The band on stage rocketed thru their set list with the lead singer strutting around in a sequined jacket, doing his best **** Jagger impression but looking more along the lines of a **** head coming down off a high. He played out every rock n roll cliche on stage and the audience cheered him on. Egged him on. The power of rock stardom working the room.

"Thank you Come-Blow-Us Ohio! See you in the morning when we're sneaking out of your house!"

The girl quit dancing and Harvard rolled his eyes back into reality. The past fifteen minutes came flooding into his conscience and he heard entire conversations, **** rock playing, cigarettes burning, beer spilling. It all played in his mind like a slow motion film set to fast forward.

"...I've been doing some soul searching and what I've found is that I lack soul," Harvard heard his voice answering Berkley. He still stared past his friend at the girl who now sat down at one of the tables, the heat of the night stained her shirt and hung closely to the contours of her structure. She smiled at something someone at the table said and Harvard wished silently that he had said something to make her smile like that but felt his feet become anvils rooted to the hardwood floor beneath him when he tried to shift his weight closer to her.

"...There's something about a soul that begs for a creative outlet, if its not being fulfilled it enters into a state of stasis until it withers into the heart of a cynic."

"So I should be creative and my soul will flourish?"

"At the very least you'll have something to bargain with when you meet the devil."

"I've met the devil, good dude, gets a bad rap."

The next band finished setting up on stage and Harvard watched out of the corner of his eye as the girl stood up and sauntered over to the dance floor and began once again writhing in rhythm to the music on the stage. He tried not to stare but again found himself transfixed on her dance and he once again heard the real world shut out and echo around him.

"...hey man, where'd you go?" Berkley snapped his fingers in front of Harvard's face forcing him out of his trance.

"Oh hey...sorry...I...um..." Harvard couldn't forge any words and waiting for his mind to come back to him. "Sorry I don't know what happened, I just kinda zoned out I guess; say anything important?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I solved the dilemma of world peace and everything but its cool no one really wants that."

"Yeah, you're right. Hey I need another beer, you want one?"

"Yeah, get me something hipster."

"PBR coming right up."

Harvard could hear Berkley laugh as he walked towards the bar, paid for the beers, and turned around, walking directly into the girl. He managed not to spill any beer on her and hoped that his tongue would not spill any inappropriate words as well.

"Hi, for me?" She laughed. She laughed harder when Harvard handed her one. She took it and brought it to her lips. He could see a smile hidden behind the clear plastic cup.

"I'm Harvard," he introduced himself.

"I'm Mallory but you can call me Yale. Everyone does.. My parents called me that but never told me why." She blushed at the way the words spilled out of her mouth to a complete stranger.

Harvard smiled and once again found his mind working in slow motion before he blurted out that it was nice to meet her.

"You too..." She hesitated, "I should get back to my friends..." Yale felt that sentence leave her mouth for an eternity and wished that she had not said it. She quickly added, "thank you for the beer, maybe I'll see you again?"

"Maybe," was all Harvard could muster. He felt his legs become rubber and as much as he did not want her to leave he wished she would do so quickly before he collapsed into a pile of beer and clothes.

He watched her slink away back to her group of friends as the world sped up around him. He sipped his beer and gained the strength to walk back to where Berkley stood.

"Hey man, where's mine?"

"Oh...uh...yeah sorry I forgot. Here I'll go back and get it."

"Nah it's alright. I need to go anyway, I have to be up in a few hours..."

Harvard and Berkley shook hands and said their goodbyes. Harvard stayed back and watched the headliner come on stage and start playing. He looked at Yale and smiled as she began dancing again but this time every few beats she would look back at him and a big smile would spread across her face. She did this too many times to count and Harvard suddenly found himself standing closer and closer to her, not sure if he had moved or if she had. He looked around and he was not in the same spot nor was she with her friends.

Yale turned around, happy to see the man she met at the bar behind her. She couldn't explain it but felt as if she were drawn to him and that the closer she was to him the slower the world around them moved. "Hi again," she said.

"Hi back," Harvard fumbled for words again before pulling Yale closer to him and staring at her for what felt like an eternity. She began dancing, slowly at first, pressing herself closer and closer against him.

Yale draped her arms around the shoulders and neck of Harvard and pulled herself closer, grinding herself as close as she could to him. She felt the music around her but danced to a different rhythm, one that only she and Harvard seemed to be hearing.

The world around them stopped moving but they did not notice. They danced together until after the music had stopped playing and the band got off stage. The lights came on and the bouncers and bartender announced last call.

"I think I've been waiting for you," Yale whispered.

"Sorry it's been a long wait, I got held up." Harvard tried to be smooth but failed.

Yale laughed and pulled Harvard closer. "Next time, don't keep me waiting."

She kissed him deep as her friends pulled her away and out of the bar. Their fingers holding on to each other until they could no longer.

Harvard stood in the room and stared blankly at the door. A bouncer nudged him and he started walking towards the door and outside. He got to the curb and sat down, trying to collect his thoughts and let his drunk wear off.

A car screeched to a halt somewhere across the street from him but Harvard barely noticed until the shadow of someone stood over him. He looked up to see Yale. She stared intently at him and handed him a piece of paper.

"I mean it. Next time don't keep me waiting." She said sternly with affection before turning around and getting back in the car with her friends.

Harvard unfolded the paper and looked it. It was her number. He folded it back up and put it in his pocket and started walking, vowing to himself to never let her have the agony of waiting again.

The strange thing about lonesomeness
is that no matter how many people
you surround yourself with,
be it the best of friends,
lovers,
or acquaintances;
you'll never get to the point
where you feel like you're with anyone
besides your own voice
rattling away insults in your head.

And even that voice
feels a thousand miles away.

The wind howled outside of the lean to and Brian knew that it was only a matter of time before the chill settled in and the last breath of life would leave his body. He thought about his family back in the city and he could not bring to mind any bad times tho he knew that there were many. He thought of his marriage and how beautiful his wife had looked on her wedding day walking down the aisle escorted by her grandfather who had a tear in his eye. He remembered the way her dress and her hair flowed behind her as if there were some slight breeze that had hit her at just the right angle to make it possible. He remembered trying not to cry and to only smile the closer she got to him and how he nearly lost his composure when her grandfather handed her off to him. Brian thought of their first born who he called Maggie but  was named Magnolia by both parents and his wife still used that name. She would be turning sixteen this year and he had not been around as much lately as he had liked but he felt that she knew he would always be there. A tear rolled down the wind bitten cheeks of Brian and began to slow once it got close to his chin, partially leaving a frozen trail from eye to tears end. He thought about Maggie as a little girl, perhaps around the age of five, and the fishing trips that they would take out on the lakes of Minnesota. He remembered the first time that she had baited the fishhook herself and how proud both she and he were when she had caught a ten pound walleye with that same hook. Brian wanted desperately to hold onto that moment for the rest of his life and swore he would never forget and all thruout the years of his life it was one memory that we went back to anytime he felt low and out of place with everyone and everything around him. Brian thought of his two sons, Jameson and Benjamin, twins that could not have been more different. Jameson was great at sports and thrived on competition where Ben was more artistic and would often be found doing volunteer work. Tho they had many differences, they were brothers thru and thru and never had a bad moment together. Brian and Ruth Ann had raised there children right; he knew that much was true and felt the pang of sadness pierce his heart as he felt the anguish of his wife when she heard the news that he was dead and she would have to finish raising them alone. He knew she would do just fine and he wanted to tell her so, to comfort her somehow even tho he wouldn't be around but he had no way of doing so and instead shivered beneath the lean to and continued thinking of his family to keep his mind active. After a short while tho he felt his brain slow and the memories became distant like dreams do after a few moments of being awake. Brian closed his eyes tightly and forced himself to think and focus. He thought about the last family photo that they took and how grown up everyone was becoming and how much love was still in his wife's eyes and he lied down on the cold ground with that image in his head and he slipped into a sleep from which he knew he would not wake up from but still he smiled at his memories and hoped that even without him his children would continue being happy and would grow further and start their own families which would have their own families and so forth. He hoped his wife would be strong and keep on and if she should find someone else he hoped she would not let Brian be the thing that kept her from living. Before Brian exhaled his last breath, he saw Maggie baiting the fish hook and smiling the way a child does. Brian smiled too and slipped into death.

I want to be a **** up
Hooked on every drug
Drunk every night
A wasted life
******* anyone
Willing to make me ***

I want to be a leader
Of the unhealthy
Lifestyle

There's a ****
To my madness
Needle in my vein
Powdered nose
Think I'm going insane?

I want to be a leader
Of the unhealthy
Lifestyle

One night stands
Behind garbage bins
**** faced drunk
Passed out
****** on
Pool of *****
Pass the rotgut
I need another shot

I want to be a leader
Of the unhealthy
Lifestyle

"No one ever said I want to be a ****** when I grow up"

Well I did
I do...

*Sleep it off in the gutter
You *******

I know we said we'd wait here
But it all became too much
How could we be so mistaken
To let it get this far
And just give up

Some things are better
Left finished
Or so we say

I know we said we'd wait here
But we failed to stay
How could we be so mistaken
To let it get this far
And just give up

This is tearing me apart
But I pull these strings tighter
To hold myself together
To keep from falling apart

But some things are better
Left finished
Or so we say

I feel your tears on my collarbone
They're making me feel so alone
I'm removed from everything
But your touch is too much
And I can't bear to leave

But some things are better
Left finished
Or so we say

This hasn't settled
These dreams will never fade
I'm a better man today
But that doesn't make up for yesterday

So here I am now
So much has changed
And everything's the same

But some things are better
Left finished

Let me entwine my lips with yours
             and my fingers become your hair

Let me tremble my kiss with yours
             and my teeth become your neck

Let me weld my skin with yours
             and my hands become your *******

Let me burn my *** with yours
             and my lust become your craving

Let me spill my passion with yours
             and my love become your *ecstasy

Let's wake up early
Dressed in each others arms
Beneath the covers all wrinkled
From a night spent less than sleeping
Let's bookmark our bedside books
And head down to the cafe
Sit in the morning air
And drink our coffees
And smoke our cigarettes
Until we feel life in our veins come alive
Let's talk about books, writings, romance
Lets talk about anything that sounds beautiful from your lips
Let's plan out our whole day
With site seeing and adventures
Then ignore them as we retreat
Back to our hotel room to end our day
As it began
Dressed in each others arms
Wrapped beneath wrinkled covers
And not sleeping

It was raining hard outside and a cold wind was blowing briskly from the north. I ducked under the outside awning of a local bar named Easy Pete's but still felt the torrent of raindrops crashing into me.

I opened the heavy bar room door and walked inside to a dimly lit room accented with the sound of pool tables being played, gambler chatter, and thick cigar smoke. My eyes winced at the sting of smoke and adjusted to the lack of light. I looked around but did not note much outside of the elderly somewhat disgruntled faces either looking at me, their drink, or their games.

The jukebox played an old song that I could not place but had the vague notion that it existed somewhere in a childhood that I had moved myself away from too many times to count. I hummed along, finding the melody along the way and worked my way up to the bar and ordered three glasses of single malt scotch from a questionable bartender that had one lazy brown eye and the other, icy blue in its color, stared at me.

I ignored him and drank the first glass of scotch as he put it down. He gruffed his throat, sat down the other two glasses, and walked away.

I continued to drink the scotch when a long legged ****** sidled up to me and asked if I was looking for a good time. I found myself remembering the good times. Back when there were good times to remember.

The jukebox changed its tune and I became even more out of touch. I passed the third glass to her and she sat closer, wrapping her fingers around the glass and sensually stroking away the condensation that had built up.

I finished the rest of my glass of scotch, looked the ****** up and down. She was beautiful. And slutty. The way that I liked them. But I was tired. And not looking for a good time. I was content with my miserable existence tonight.

She made for small talk and I made for the door.

The quest for love is tired and spent
The endless anguish for one that you hope to find
Along this extensive desolately disenchanted road
Where faces come and go in and out of aged shadows
No body is sweetly thought about for longer than an affair
Grown uninterested and somnolent of the same tedious routine
It’s all just a squandered course of existence

It’s become painfully obvious
That you’re in love with the sound
Of your own voice
Drowning out all those around
You have never had a moment of silence
Always filling the air
With nerve-grinding
“Yeah-yeah-yeah” conversation
And the “he-he-he” of your laughter
I’d staple, sew, and stitch your mouth shut
If I were assured that you wouldn’t find
Some way to talk out of your *******

I wake up to the first note of my alarm
Ringing loudly into my dreams
Pulling me from the depths of sleep
Out thru the ocean of slumber and awake

Never anytime for the snooze button
I have no extra time to spare
I set my alarm for the last possible minute

I stumble into the bathroom
Rough my hair around a little bit
And peel the sleep out of my eyes

I turn the shower on and step in
Standing still for just a few minutes
I think that maybe I may fall back asleep

A lighthearted prayer escapes my lips
Hoping the hot water will be enough
To wake me from this grogginess
But of course it never is

I’d really rather not get ready
And just crawl back into bed

Ten minutes have passed
Now it’s time to get out of the shower
And get dressed

I blindly let the dog out of her cage
Walk her outside to do her business
In the thick early morning fog
She plays around for a few minutes
It’s all the time that I can allow

We rush back up the stairs
And back into the warmth of our home

I hurriedly pack my lunch
From a limited number of choices
And empty cabinets

The dog accepts her treat
And trots back to her cage
She is trained well

The thought occurs to me
That if only people were so well behaved
Maybe I’d enjoy their company more

But I’m running late by now as usual
So I don’t have time to dwell on this thought
As I close the bedroom door
She watches me and I hear her whimper
A soft goodbye with her eyes

I grab my lunch bucket and head out the door
Muttering a poem of early morning under my breath
Which seems to hang frozen in the air

I unlock my car door and slide in
Keying the car on in one smooth practiced process
The radio booms to life because I always forget how loud
I had the music playing the previous day
And my right hand quickly reaches
For the volume **** to turn it down
But only a little
At least until I get out onto the road

Every second of my drive to work
I sit talking myself into not turning back around
To go back home and go back to sleep

Most days I’m successful and I end up at work
Punching the time clock for an eight hour or more shift
Of busting knuckles and periodic book reading

Most days though I really should just turn back around
And go back home and go back to sleep

Most days though I really should never
Have gotten out of bed in the first place