This melancholy gets old.
Writing about it gets ******* old.
And the quiet times remind me
that I’m still alone.
I try to drown out the quiet with fans
and videos on YouTube that make
absurd promises.

But my head rests on pillows
and not the fun fleshy kind.
The lifeless, soft, comfortable kind.
My body is warmed by blankets
not a lover.

The soaring highs ring hollow
Through this speaker
But the lows are richly decadent.

Lately this speaker has preferred lows
The highs just don’t persist like they do
From other speakers.

Perhaps it’s easier to produce those highs
With a matched stereo second speaker
Where one falters, the other supports.

And isn’t it just this speaker’s luck
To have its matched stereo second spoken for
Sounds and lives are just peaks and troughs.

A good night’s sleep
Alongside a loved other
Unmarred by expectations
Unmolested by human minds
Moonlight and soft breath
Dreams and thoughts
Soft whir of a fan
Drawn down
Until…

I can smell your blood from across the world
Wounded as you are.
There are the prey and there are the hunters
And there are the warriors.
I think your public weeping and snapping betray
Which of those three you embody

This is not gloating or a threat of violence
This is the statement of place.
Mind yours.

I don’t think psychopaths
Can appreciate riding a motorcycle.
Not really, anyway.
There’s too much emotion
In the grinding of metal
On the pavement.
Too much disappointment
In the missed apex
Too much joy
In the pull from a stop.

Love your two wheeled brethren
And rest assured in the knowledge
That they can and do, love you.

The sun and other stars shine dimly
Compared to the laser of your curiosity.

And I’ve felt that burning point on my skin,
That warmth building to unbearable heat.

Ultimately leaving my charred remains
In the smoldering pile of my failure.

And I would gladly burn alive for you
If it meant you were happy with me.

I spend a lot of time alone
Lonely
Stoney
Home
Drone
Tangents and vowels
Bowels
Scowls
How's
Thou
Crown
**** I’m losing it
****
Gnaw my self off to escape this trap

I’ve always found it easier
To define myself by what I’m not
Because I don't want to be cheesy or
Whatever, so I started smoking ***
And doing things that made my parents queasier
Than if they’d just eaten a bunch of my socks.

But now I don't know who I am
Like, I don't have a defining feature
And it feels like my future is just a sham
Because I’m just an ideology preacher
So pick something and be it, don't be just a **** creature.

We change and grow.
Strange is the flow
And range of our glow

Dim to bright to dim
Grin to fright to grin

And why must fear be so powerful
In my life
I’m afraid of the strife
Brought by progress in time
Brought by foot steps through grime.

So I search for that other
Looking for what will smother
That deepest darkness

As if that would work.

To exist with such truth
Of heart's chipped tooth
Broken on the stone
Thrown from lunar throne
The ache does not abate
Though forward time’s gait.

It’s been years, but your face
Still haunts.

Higher dimensional inertia
Pulls
Until the universe shatters.
Spitting our matter as so much
Dust
In the beams of light
Shining through windows of
Consciousness.

Shards pass through other spaces
Surprising apes with strange
Lights
And images of little green men
With big heads and no
*****.

Blood
******* blood staining my…
…shirt of ideals.
Falling from lips swollen with
…Excitement…
Masticating the fleshy arguments of
**** poetry elites
Is as messy as defecating on
The memory of the fake God.

Knives and nukes dropped on
Wrists and books of your weak holy.
And the flavor….
Oh the flavor…..
Seasoned so liberally with those
Deliciously salty tears….

I want to consume
Food, flesh
The toxic fumes of burnt plants
I’m like a vortex
Swirling and roiling with such fury
The only path
Is inward

Fall ******* life from the world
Entropy become personified
Gaping maw of
Desire

How many times have I drowned?
My nature is to be empty
Forming the gradient of emotion flow
That frog is my will to resist
Endlessly stung by the scorpion
My weakness.

The throat choked by quotes from old poets
Grows dry and hoarse
Old words do that
Dusty and crusty
Musty and rusty

Soothe your throat with that
New style rap
And let your mind
Flap free from the
Constraints of tradition.

The fickle nature of reality
Surprises me
The moon sliding past the horizon
Shattered my world

Memory of a hard soul
Frozen by such a long winter
Brittle as thin ice
Gravity of her near approach…

I’ve cursed my father
May he rot in his oversized grave.
For what else can a son do
When dignity requires enmity.

I’ve cursed God
May it rot in its ****** tomb.
For what else can a man do
When suffering becomes ingrained.

I’ve cursed myself
May I rot in my muddy hole.
For else can I do
When cowardice causes such shame.

Loneliness.

Perhaps
Nothing lasts forever

Flat
Lacking.
The ache inside is
Breaking along the lines where
My hope was shattered by fear of fruits gathered in
Defiance of my downward guidance or
Search for a chance at
Vibrance
Love.

Like the snow in winter
My fall for you was inevitable.
But now I’m lost
With nowhere to go
And no one to know
So shine your light on my crippled form
Maybe even show me how to live again
Let me free from these bonds of tragedy
Show me how to climb up depression's scree.

This time of year always hits me
Like a stone in the gut
All the smiling happy faces and stories
Of romantic fluff

And in those lowest moments
I swear I can see
The bottom of that hole, rising
Rising up to swallow

I’ve given my all to this
Ridiculous life
This constant battle against strife
And my bones will fall

Fret not for the coming of day
I pretend to say
As if the night had a loose grip
The darkness would let slip…

“You can’t have your spirit broken
If you have no spirit”
Wisdom
Because what am I fighting for?
Or better, what is there to fight for?

Legacy is just vanity
Success is just greed
Making the world better…. For who?
Truth, justice, and freedom are social constructs

Purpose, spirit, resolve
Just hollow comfort in a world
Full of apathy
Or empty of everything…

There is no strength greater
Than the legs of a man fallen
From love's heights to crater
The mud who then crawls in
The filth of false creators
To rise and stand tall in
The face of fate's masticator.