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Sep 2017 · 169
see
absinthe Sep 2017
see
God
get me out of my own head
please
keep me out of my own way
i
stay awake to fall asleep
pray
i won't see the day
i see

but the week/weak
never cared
just like me
till today

today
i see
Aug 2017 · 328
high vices with high prices
absinthe Aug 2017
i lie to him
he lies to me
side by side we lie
till i fall asleep
and he leaves

he always knows
never to come over
unless i need to heal
after his hands beat me
but better yet
he always knows
to leave when it's all over

so when the sky turned over
as did i when i rolled up
so lonesome and more broken
and less so because this morning
i had his rough hands controlling
my thoughts to claim i caused it

i hold them both to console us
and all fours know that i'm sordid
i hear him calling my phone
his tone shows me he's been gone

my nightstand dead men
show me it's over
and now i can't lie
or stand being sober
Aug 2017 · 231
overelapse
absinthe Aug 2017
the venn diagram of conscious decisions

to drink: achieved through a state
of self-inflicted unconsciousness
rapid.
pleasurable.

to think: achieved through a state
of self-imposed consciousness

slow

tortuous



the overlap: interchangeable
two means too fatal
in reality
insanity resides in the latter

i may be a sadistic cynic
but i am no *******  
i'm too selfless
or selfish
synonyms....

do clichés not instigate
infinite plagues

so why put off until tomorrow
what yesterday
could have hypothetically
assassinated all
my future-former sorrow

it would have been excellent then
to begin embarking on my end
though it's ok
i hear they also state
that never is never not better than late
and how i love to double up
on shots and my many
mesmerizing negative mind states

thus
once the ex exits
what next best exists  
than the first
if not its successive fail
the second in line
and what time most prime
to quit
more so
than me
while i'm behind

**** a sober mind.
Aug 2017 · 155
magic
absinthe Aug 2017
knights take shots
trying to steal my heart
steel it was till it was not

so let the sun tell them
no man's son can rob
what’s been long lost

gone
Jul 2017 · 147
where babies come from
absinthe Jul 2017
inhale
exhale*
stop.

next...
Jul 2017 · 159
the meaning of
absinthe Jul 2017
life
is nothing

but a too tedious
to-do list

i’m forced to fulfill
for forcibly living

i'd have at-will in it enlisted
with as much passion as that with which

today i wish to exist.

- endless
Jul 2017 · 141
mankind: unkind
absinthe Jul 2017
heaven is not on earth
but it is insulted
because only hellfire
knows of injustice
Jul 2017 · 167
camaraderie
absinthe Jul 2017
how come you and me
two who’ve
never met nor swapped sentences manage
to share snark remarks
restless in our respective heads
with no respect for one another’s existence
only contempt
it’s not so with any of the others
strangers acquaintances or lovers
we share something so rare and more special
absolute oblivion untainted by rumors or manufactured societal whispers

i know you reel your bridge wobbly bridge up
when i can feel the joints in me grow feeble
as i sit crippled fixed and fixated facing my window
rear
view mirror pointed at my own picture
in constant and consistent self reflection
conquering me and who am i but my self image
the glass always did manage
to drive me insane while as i drive away
never knowing where always lost
and failing to distract the tailgating tears
that fixate on me in a manner familiar to the see through glass protecting and destroying me simultaneously
when so often as i do
i set my gear in rear to feed my view
with the daily purpose i succeed to achieve as i creep routinely
sealing
concealing
you
my blinds always convened at the zenith near the ceiling but me
blind as can be at the mastermind in my head that never doesn’t lie to me
perhaps on my deathbed if it’s cruel as me
she’ll ever so gracefully reveal
the futility of my mastery
existence
sat in the same seat
villains use for immortal rule
or so i believed
until she interrupts flashes of my life as it reels transiently
and i hear white noise
precede pictures of my enemy
not the one who consumed every day and week
but me
last in line
in the rear
like the rectangle red as my hand is
that i’d moved foolishly
when it came on the four wheels  
voluntarily convincingly and connvivingly
propelling my apathy as i tell havoc i wreaked to thank me for sloppily reconvening pieces of piece but only if they come to me at a time of conveniency

and as i let the last breath leave
i weep in agony
it tells me won’t cease lest i voice humility
and in the ashes of my pride
and defeat
i stand mistaken ready tremblingly

and as the last breath leaves me
i am forced to face myself for the first time truthfully
despite the absence of shards or glass  
i wheeze my insignificance
and its ancestors i ungratefully inhaled for years on end
leaving the atmosphere with nothing but negative air
known to devils as credit
and the naive indebted
i move it to check one last time
the status of the pests i’d see whenever i took one second to check if i’d yet received my privacy  
and it returns the gesture by in turn moving me

and as i lie here
losing touch with reality
and the air you breathe
absentmindedly
i burden chooses to leave me
and i know i defied physics
because until now
never have i truly breathed

and as you lie to me
blind that you are not me
but i am you
foolish
in the fake truth
that i lie here
when i no longer do

one day you too as i have
will have learned the lesson
taken the final
passed
and finally
as i have now
passed
you have yet to meet it
but there is a heaven

in time
you too
like me
will see it:

sleep.
Jul 2017 · 151
last
absinthe Jul 2017
i am who they are not
first
and foremost we know
to stay on track is not to look back
bent necks are best
for what's worst to lack
success by fact
by way of
back
tracks
as cracked as i am
standing
where i now stand
i know how my legs lag
i can hear the echoes of mockery
from the sounds made by my dragging feet
disjointing me
but the shots they fire
never miss nor fail
to ignite my flame
or tame its tame
or take me anywhere
but where i find myself now
wearing burn marks that to my flesh
are as mutating as they are
to my head
enlightening
Jul 2017 · 186
no calm only storm
absinthe Jul 2017
can't think amidst this
chaotic conglomerate
coined companionship

screaming speakers
weak winstons
sinful sexes
indirect intentions

vicious voices
as if it's insufficiently
pacifistic
in this excessive thinking
my nemesis
feigns friends
concoctions
contradictions
composure
i uphold
to call
when they call upon
myself

sometimes i get caught giggling
by my eyes
in solace
till sagacious flashbacks
attack
i reminisce
in retrospects
those words of his
he chose to omit
their counterparts
which he transmits
with infinite tact
royalty don't smile
signal
leave who you lead
behind
holding their breaths
and possessive
obsessive
over more questions to ask
than answers to grasp
balance is a task
and who
if not you
is talented at
abandoning straight lines
that find themselves at last
lost
alone
in intricately
tangled tracks

- end
Jul 2017 · 355
father
absinthe Jul 2017
forgive me
you're why i am
and too beat
to be
me
so wrong to compete
i'm so lost
incomplete
and completely unclear
as to why i sit
upright
uptight
in this filthy seat
like i have
this past year
                    daddy
please
tell me
why won’t
my feet lead
to where they say
the heart beats

and help me see
how it is
that i can
count infinitely
the steps between
home and me
and simultaneously hear
in the depths
of my chest
this pounding  
when i am
as heartless
as i have been
made out to be
what then
could it
possibly be

- end
Jul 2017 · 193
vain
absinthe Jul 2017
i don't know whose
firsthand reaction to the sight
of me crawling is worse

that of the man
that asks how i am
as he backtracks
in baby steps
or
those of the rest who
due to oversight
or indifference
are unconsumed
and unconcerned
by and with
futile breaths
nonetheless

but i sure as hell know
the answer
    doesn’t matter
    so long as i stay sat
    writing rhyming rants
    to hold my skull’s fracture captive
    and perhaps
    so i can have it massacred
    alongside its inner cats
    their joint force task of making contact
    with my meek heart also known as
    the meager muscle
  plasma-mad
      in vein
              and
                 collapsed.

- end
Jun 2017 · 192
my fire
absinthe Jun 2017
i can’t bear this silence
so i instigate
the flame distracts
i’m well aware
that though i often fall
there is a part of me
that never fails
and always grows

- end
Jun 2017 · 189
internal bleeding
absinthe Jun 2017
this little heart of mine
i can't let it shine
only blind by passion
it ignites in desire.
let it live and catch fire
start riots and conspire
so together, in harmony
we can finally unite, fight

back and back
        
fire.
Jun 2017 · 252
a beautiful bitch
absinthe Jun 2017
when i don’t pay attention
or smile at her every second
because my self, absorbed in her ways,
is fueled by fumes and preoccupation
with the remnants of my reflections
adversities in the shape of shattered fragments
at the hands of the menace who disparaged
with flying colors
my preconceived
notions of beauty
its existential crises
or lack thereof—
or extinction altogether
that day calamity
struck my ignorant mother
allowing me to stomach her
and with conviction
mimic a life-conviction-struck robber
and weasel my way out the tunnel


her presence never fails to tear
in parts unequal and unfair
my distraction her haughty air demands
******* mine but this time i have trained
or so i have dimwittedly led myself to believe
to maintain sanity soon to be by her relieved
i rapidly pray on my way to met her
in the needlepoint spot on the planet
marked by mere millimeters

but once again as i foolishly dismiss
simple common sense because haughtiness
has always far outweighed the myth
of other qualities we believe are bliss
running the same film strip i relive the same scene
and wonder astoundingly as to how i could be
so obscene
and ignorant
with no happy
to accompany
only misery
and consequential calamities

i only dream
in my wake some day
to see crocodile tears
of lizards’ deep green
as the envy they feel
and the currency they steal
and the grass underneath
which i will soon be at ease
one winter day when priests
sit, sympathize and believe
that anyone for me
could truly bereave

at her sight, i leave
and what’s left
knows what the other feared to hear
    we’re meant to be.
for her i ferociously fall
and the high as i soar in her presence
is far more potent
than the feeling of blackness
i saw back when i crawled out the tunnel
and suddenly saw nothing
unsure as to whether
my sight had abandoned me altogether
or the world was so devoid of light
making my eyes as likely to see
as the hope of those it had massacred
to come back once more and restore happiness

i only see in her vicinity
and no deity or creed decreed
feigned, fabricated, false, factual, fined or free
has or will be near me or nearly
as close to the tier of the invincibility
i currently perceive
i fall for her
and i fall for her again
and i never understand
how something so revolting
could be so coveted
and cunning
and contradictory
but such is you
and such is me

c’est la vie.

- end
Jun 2017 · 174
flatline
absinthe Jun 2017
everything won't be ok this time.
Jun 2017 · 139
rinse & repeat
absinthe Jun 2017
my favorite part of love
isn’t the moment you see a slippery street
and still decide to step on the concrete
knowing full well
the banana slippers
on your feet
will inevitably fail to succeed.

or even the transient—albeit seemingly ceaseless—ischemic attack that accompanies,
only to flee,
leaving your newfound morphine deficiency
all you never knew you’d ever need

it’s not the self-pity,
pain,
or sympathy you summon from stems, branches, buds, or fallen crispy sheets
that console you due to formalities
while deeply-seated loyally
in your freshly proclaimed enemy.

the slip
the trip
the consequential limp
are magic. enchanting. it’s sick.
but not nearly as diseased
as my favorite phase of this plague—
its terminal infirmity the second epiphany strikes me
simultaneously as my previously paralysis-ridden limbs
spring lively
and i cling onto the same steel anatomy
that had infected me
as viciously  
as it now
heals.

- end
May 2017 · 279
desired disaster
absinthe May 2017
incessant selflessness manifested is ignorance
opposite its notorious nemesis, selfish, insidious

let the latter mask the masses,
they are us and we, its masters

yes, i was them till i was casted
i will not master nor be mastered
for voicing inquisitiveness
similar to the kin of the sin
rumored to have killed the cat
let them castigate and excommunicate
my mask will decay in the casket

till, that is,

they let the former; its toxic gasses
end times nine lives like mine
shunned and inhabitants
who slumber under overpasses
and would unwaveringly pass
on being passive
on not going under
long before playing roles active
in a world so colorfully composed
of paint strokes dipped
in tin cans consisting
of the blood and innocence
of shunned masses,
the victims of ignorance
and its subsequent massacres.

asleep in peace
at rest with my dignity
my pride
and all the answers.

as are the circumstances
of those who will not master
nor be mastered.

disaster

- end
absinthe May 2017
i am what you see
a product of he's and she's
and the me of which you dream.

why open our eyes
when they have nothing to reveal
but me

all along
all alone
stranded
standing here.

- end
May 2017 · 184
hide and seek
absinthe May 2017
and if i died today
no one would see
till the organs grew potent
and summoned them
to their senses, olfactory
and led them to the decay that is me
dead or alive
and unwanted

it's ok.
i'm prepared.

i can always make them come
though i can never make them stay
and when outliers do on occasion
i lie my way out till they lie back in line
and once again i can go about my isolation

i see the little girl wearing me.
puppy eyes, dogged tears
she's so ashamed of me
she says we've gone missing
in this world, she's all i've been missing
so i made her go.

and let the distance grow
because although i know she misses me
she doesn't know she misses nothing when i'm gone
and everything when i'm here too long

if not for the memory of her purity
i would contemplate my eulogy
so strangers i wish i knew
knew what to read before they buried me
     like i did with the little birdie
     earlier when she caught and told me
     that my little girl is wearing everything but me
     and that she makes them come
     ever since i made her leave
    
-

today is here.

- end
May 2017 · 248
atretochoana
absinthe May 2017
i fell in love at first sight
my heart was dancing till it stopped
it was all my fault

night after night
i sought life and pursued solutions
yearned to learn to go on to teach it
just how to reconvene all its pieces
with no help from neither

knight after knight
nor the world outside
and how to make its own beats
because taking beatings from strangers
is what put it to sleep after seizing

lethal sleeplessness
steered me wrong
and under its grip
i gripped its wheel and steered to collide

saw the road
switched sides
opposed signs

the alarmed neighboring cars'
bore honks resembling alarms
and in the midst of my insomnia
i was awoken to recall
that every eye
even in its prime

has a spot, blind.

- end
May 2017 · 335
enarmored
absinthe May 2017
our masked master
has manipulated us masses
maneuvered its path in our minds' wires
mismatched them
and the only tool it uses is language.

when we hear its ring and rhyme
in voices we think are customized
as we vacillate with the waves place us
in elation--a space where we are stars
and even Eden's leads don't succeed
in leaving us or similar sheep
anywhere near
a state of such satisfaction.

so we pass it and overlook action
subject ourselves and check out our self-respect
to the delinquent library members
we subjectively deem handsome

the truth is never not vile
double minus signs.

but math has all the answers.
falling
+
overlooking
=
disaster

it can all be dismantled
but it told us
what it wants in regards to what we want
and our demands are instantaneously met
its compliance made us believe again
and we embark on a trip to power
seizing all that which we can
with its allowance

because of it, now we have
everything we
need
and
want
and
love

and we used to think with regard
but since it used us
it's our own thoughts we disregard
if we could recall the ones we had before
would we opt to head for similarly travelled roads
where we are both patriots and xenophobes

all moot notes
none of my words mule votes
it told us to, so we are
why should we try
if even our lazy minds compartmentalize
to save time as if we have lives
as opposed to its lies
all the while, it sees the truth

we keep the negatives boxed in
the truth is never not vile
double minus signs.

the clarity of our psyche
and the level of our blind intertwine
we used to drive but now why
when we have it to steer
as we sit obliviously
as it delivers
sip vials
give more homes and less lives
to our livers
breathe and supply loads of hope
when we clip loose weeds from the streets
and into our corrupt, vial-ridden systems
where our lungs are filthy prisons.

we can't see how crippled we are visually
because it's what we want
and feelings aren't things our eyes perceive
it can't be

we aren't who we want to be
only who we want it
to want us to believe
so we can hold on to the pass
all victims receive

without it
we would not want it
or want
or be.

love,
love.

- end
May 2017 · 176
touch me.
absinthe May 2017
nothing to do.
nowhere to go, because i'm here.

levitating
if you take away these sheets
my legs are crossed
i'm alone, after all
the screen is off
because when it's only me
who's there to put on a show for

i feel one ankle touch my knee.
my other sole is right but blood is life
and it feels so cold on my purple-pink skin

this precisely is the type of moment in solace
that incentivizes my strike plate's flawlessness
it's unexplored
like the ****** groomed in preparation
for a very imperfect fiscal offer
made amongst four x chromosomes
we sometimes coin fathers

and really if you look closely
you'll know why i let them do to me
what i've struggled to do with myself
for so long. en-titled.

i pay the price whenever i free-fall
but a cold soul is something i can afford
given the flight down revives
late exhibitions of all the love i once had
that weighed so heavy but now acts
as the anchor where my frown is
what i should be
never lost and always found

and if i could
i would defy science
and gravity
in my psyche
and gladly glide downhill
perpetually to
feed fleeting feelings
before once more
i abandon control
and lose to
a-
void

- end
May 2017 · 153
v(i)r[us]
absinthe May 2017
please,

i need restarting.

it's been such a feat
offing these viruses that offer me toxins
and we can only blame me
because i let them feed despite how they appear, unsightly
as the manifestation of this disease, progressive.

i'm not deserving of this distinguishing
for responsibility i'm relinquishing due to negligence
and incessant selflessness
synonymous with ignorance

and you...
you only dream of this type of recognition
dedication to your existence makes you far more deserving

but who pays mind to mundane, even if it's right?
though overlooking it entirely...  
that's how me's are made.

and once upon a time, i was.
but today, i am not alright.

-end
Apr 2017 · 170
my body
absinthe Apr 2017
i hereby present  
this
sacrificial offering
to you and your kin
men of any skin
indiscriminate of ticks
hands, time spans, or dimensions

it never meant
much to me
to start with.
none of my organs
can play melodies
and boycotting churches
doesn't help much--
weekdays or ends

i'm weak in the end.
you'll feast nonetheless.
i accept.
condescend what's left.
because i comprehend
that i can't live with myself
regardless.

and why fight the taste of bitterness,
when i've never tasted success.

- end
Apr 2017 · 147
here
absinthe Apr 2017
here, world.
have these words.

it’s all for the better
i’m all for the worse

they're all bound
to come around
and rebound
some days from now
so what’s the worst?

don me a a player
of words
and an alphabet
about which
i could not care less
though in them is my worth
they’re the sole characters  
on which my transient existence depends…
how symbolic.

don't allow it
they’ll run out of artists and authors
when they realize they need to pay attention
to working on pay without paying on their end
so they pay homage and paint my pale face
and hang it up as they say grace and pass the pail, there's
a pencil in my left although i’m not right at times
hand it
although i've only used pen those times
grant it
to galleries long after i am gone
and my silent voice of self-defense that is read when i see red
is no more
and granted,
my flesh is dense, entrenched and soiled in worms and soil
and the sole consistency in my after and my life is my nonexistent soul

don’t let the gluttony go unnoticed.

for if there is a phenomena i despise more so
than broadway shows which broadly showcase
plain, feigned mythical “facts” amidst quotes
it’s the fact that
myth
has no purpose
but to extort
the 27 things i’ve ever known:
my mean letters and my enemy
long after i
am no more.
Apr 2017 · 131
Untitled
absinthe Apr 2017
little brother.
my little angel

how little i feel
how minute i must be
for you, who is me,
to up and leave
my little baby...

i misspoke
and misconducted
and miscommunicated
and miscarried
the purity
that is you
the bane of what is me
and my existence

the pain from the staircase
i ****** my broken body down
still aches

and i am ready
for an eternity
of agony

if anything happens to me tomorrow
i need nothing else
but for you to understand
that if not for you
tomorrow
would have been so
long
long
long
ago
Apr 2017 · 138
J and i until i die
absinthe Apr 2017
don't ask me
when this all happened
they all left me
the answers

i don't know
at which point it was
precisely
that i ventured from
a lonesome mutant
to a loyal consumer
of one man
by the surname
Jameson.

all i understand
at this point in time
is that certainty
has no place in my mind

and that if nothing
and no one
and no place
and no aim
and no intention
of any change
he is here
and that
is all  
i will ever need

i do
i do
only death
can forcefully
make me bid
my loyalty
to my one truth
adieu

- end
Apr 2017 · 289
curate me
absinthe Apr 2017
all i need is you and me
to rhythmically breathe
this chemistry

let the air release
the bliss i feel beneath
the deep pigments
that compose the skin tone
that is yours like me
when i am consoled
by you, my harmony

the figments of chaos
that barricade logic
from my
barren
    vacant
   mind
reassure me
as any talented sadist would
that my work is greater for
being for the greater good
...that i am far from good
for i far supersede
what all talented sadist
curators ever could

and if not for the poetry
your exhales hand
my mishandled ears
i wonder
if i would ever again
be able to feel.

- end
Apr 2017 · 205
crutch
absinthe Apr 2017
so
in love
not with you
but myself
in your presence

so
in trouble
not with you
but myself
if you vanish

- end
Mar 2017 · 387
chaos.
absinthe Mar 2017
intrusive.
you
refuse
to soothe
these thunderstorms
in me.

they're brewing.

one day they'll explode.
and even if i knew the future
nonetheless, i'll look like
a fool.

i can't quite define
why sometimes
and sundays
i seem
alright

the peace of mind leaves me uneasy

it tells me i'm releasing
the memories that eased me
back when i needed
bracing
and saving
for defacing
the part of me i hated
with passion
that resembled that
which you once had for me
especially on days
when the sun came first
and foremost

sevenfold.
Mar 2017 · 155
entrapped.
absinthe Mar 2017
i am the heart
of these walls.

i have nowhere to go

only God can know that i am not grown
though they beg to differ so often

God only knows that i am so worn
and so
          so
old.
Mar 2017 · 154
undignified
absinthe Mar 2017
i apologize
fighting to find
fair rationale
that may contrast
the way i justify
the foolishness
of continuing
to provide
abode for this weight
when all it has
is novel means
of snapping my back

suffice it to say
my tolerance for pain
lies in a plain land
far far away
blanketed
on the outskirts

i will implore
should the scene need
for you to believe me
if nothing else
i’ve learned to suppress
my dignity
transiently

the only fear
is that it discover
the relief
of the darkness
under covers

- end
Feb 2017 · 171
solar eclipses
absinthe Feb 2017
i miss you a lot.
but i'm more mad at you
than anything.

when i met you
i had nothing
not even a place to rest my head
when the sun did
and the moon lit
hand in hand with its soul mate
the night sky
like they always did
and always will
with the exception
of solar eclipses.

but those are just temporary.
they get angry at each other
but that's transient.
they always get back together.

i miss you.
a lot.
but i'm more scared
than anything.
because i can't tell
if we were like
the moon and the sky
or a solar eclipse.
Style inspired by my little brother, whose words are just as powerful as they are simple.
Feb 2017 · 206
isoelation
absinthe Feb 2017
when i feel down
for knowing i know
i don’t not
stoop low

i cut morbid
short circuits shorter
for torture. torn rapture
it incapacitates

and breaks order.
to do so
i con endorphins.

i feel small.
especially
when they grow
and go.



and i'm here. more
                                                            ­alone.
than ever before.



i resort not
to overflown words
nor spilled souls
poor or porous

they transform whole
into prose seldom spoke
almost as though
forced forward
fueled by formerly
foreign
external forces

and i'm a foreigner.
and i'm a xenophobe.

and i am
a vagabond gone rogue
to enforce laws and propose chaos

my thoughts provoke.

i ****** them to
withdraw.

they pass it on.
they're why i’m so
withdrawn.

to belong, i pass it forth.
and i'm so far gone
regardless, i will
keep
withdrawing.
Feb 2017 · 200
broken fan
absinthe Feb 2017
my man
are you proud
of your hand
the one i have
woven around
my ham

tell me
is mama proud of you
does she call you a man?
does she know
she had everything
but a man?

that is, unless, of course,
mama's a crook like you
and she thieves like you too
and she can't help herself,
but she helps herself
to what she can't.

****.

like the shame you all are,
your whole ****.

i hate your name
i hate that i am
not
my own
man.
Feb 2017 · 311
180º[f]
absinthe Feb 2017
i find it unnecessary
to exchange mixtures of letters
with the receiver i once did see me
engaging in foreseen endeavors with
but history tore me and we  

though i now retract
exceptions are had
such as
when i choose to detract
the warmth i had way back
in the past
when our fire did not brand
but did attract
us to one another
not like now
and how it knows
how to protract
to engulf us
to turn good
into bad

i release resistant exhales
and doubt
on newfound callousness i once could
reroute
only when allowed by a sizable
payout
even if along the way

it cracks

the heart
i once had

and the heart
i once had
sworn
on my life
to pass
for
before

i
let it
pass.
Feb 2017 · 244
covert book covers
absinthe Feb 2017
they mistake me
often.
their heads lead them astray.
they judge books.
and covers.
and they correlate us
together
much too often.
although
they’re aware.
and they know
all too well;
better than ever to engage
in such cliches.
classic traps.

they call me
beautiful
often
they show me their sketches
of isolated circles.
i later come to find
are so enamored
they've merged into
one
vastly overlapping
ven diagram
each individually labeled
me
and
purity

how i wish they’d stop seeing
                      and start hearing
the words
my much too often
hyper-glamorized lips
try uttering
forewarnings
of appearances
and deception
before their whims
begin interrupting
the inevitable
is the contempt
their ignorant hearts
will build
and ultimately
i will suffer and so will
my will
power--

more so than will power
they don't know
possesses the ability
to observe me
through truly
objective
optic nerves  

ever will.
Feb 2017 · 415
mad
absinthe Feb 2017
mad
it’s all a haze
i hope it’s just a phase
though these winter days
don’t feel the same.

i can’t ignore
the overwhelming way
i
miss
you.

the only thing containing me
is my eyes as they're rolling back
to see the silly name i gave you
when we were we
top the list of my
messenger’s screen

i’m certain i’m insane.

and certainly, i
would see no sanity
to claim vanity
in my extinct ability
to up and leave
i can’t leave

you.

so i only ask
you to stop
topping the list
my currently
rolling eyes
if they could see

would wish
they couldn't

see.
Feb 2017 · 229
hearteries
absinthe Feb 2017
it’s funny

my anatomy
my heart lying
inside me
beckoning
beating me
to beat
feigning delicacy

isn’t it funny
it’s merely a muscle
i feel it steal beats
my steel fists copy
it clenches and dictates
me and my existence
and like me
never rests
only
keeps
beating
itself

it isn’t funny
aren’t muscles
meant to provide strength
to shield me from emptiness
and disconnect me
from all these tissues
i keep rupturing
why the contrast, then
why does it do the opposite
does it beat me out of spite
knowing i take it to heart
and again when i find
dense napkins inside
and realize
that they never left
but the worst part
is the blood-red
     cherry
on top that i need.
bitter venom i need.
to be what i don’t know
i want to be. in a world
where i’m unsure
as to why it brought me in
or what it is that is
that which up to
i should be
living
which is that
that keeps on beating
and killing the same thing
it's expecting me
to be achieving.
i hate the fact
that heartless
i suffer
though if i could
i would love
with all my heart
the alternative
that is subordinate
to fraternal evil twins

because there is no
suffering
nor mourning
as that of a heart
not yet deadened.
if only the analysis
caused it the same
paralysis
as is
witnessed in my now idle mind  
that flatlined
when i realized

i was
birthed
exist
live
and will
cease with
the oxymoron
that is
weak muscle, me:
strong  
and hollow inside
Feb 2017 · 249
insane on replay
absinthe Feb 2017
the old man goes to what
for the night
acts as his local diner, NoHo.

he causes a ruckus.
the surveillance lights
flash on.

he doesn’t notice this since
he’s too busy conversing
with himself.

all the others trade glares
these days, i guess,
passive aggression is strength.

-

she lays the baby plastic tray
on my table—the waitress
we briefly switch formalities

and she leaves
and he turns to me
and says

oh.
i would’ve said hello,
had i known.
though,
i thought i won't; assumed you’d glued
your earlobes’ holes with those phones,
like them all.

he looked away
to continue the interaction
i had so rudely interrupted.

and that's when epiphany crashed in
as i reached for the white strangers
i let sing and speak to me so often:

whose sanity are we to question
when it’s not he
who voluntarily hears voices,
but who speaks to himself
because our need for humanity
is involuntary.

-end
Jan 2017 · 625
cann[i]bal[i]sm
absinthe Jan 2017
feeling burdened—it tends to happen
particularly when meddling impressions run rampant
swarm circles in my hefty head, ignore the next exit ramp, and
let devils' advocates covet the cove i donned my dome once upon never

although i know this may be chalked up to intelligence
and subsequent ignorant claims that swear it's heaven sent
i swear it’s not for me. so tell all the hell-bent docents to leave
and let live my cognizance dim—to do what i can’t. to let it be.

it is what it is
and what it is
is it’s
excessive

i don’t need no informants
playing mentee won’t mend me
i’m torn sufficiently
far as i can see, it seems

don’t mentor she who beseeches
by way of screams and screeches
me and my strings are beat
by ****** and needless needles’
stitches and ventures heedless

i’m piecing my torn fabric
it’s grown so thick
it’s a feat, recognition
when simple addition alters
fact into fabrication

like my elation
in inebriation
guards sorrow
from knocking at my door
knocks my guard down
and has me floored

it hits my inhibition too
and i’m home-free
no guilt signaling
and i pull singles
i switch with tickets
i use to ticket my skin

no appointment
nor disappointment
walking in walk-in clinics
and sketchy shops
flickering the light
it sheds on both
my faces. i can face them
only with this double vision

i watch mark
as his sketches mark me
like stretch marks,
remarkably

in hopes of realizing on the double
the vision i envision into reality
he lets me let him put his hands on me
seemingly steadily
and we feel as our arms stretch

he draws me in
fills me ink
and vibrant me pends
his vibrating steel
and sharp pens
as they liven
my limp existence
reincarnating me instantly  

after sweet sleep
i wake bitter for some reason
feel dull but also sharp-ied
peeping the nonsense i let seep steeply
into my skin last night when i was peaking

now i can reminisce
on the pain of squirming
wallow over it instead, and
not the overflown gore of streams

and catastrophic waterfalls
that break through my largest *****'s walls
they leave what makes me, me,
with breakthroughs of which it can only dream

if only i can fall like the tears asleep
that crash and wave and overshadow my role
in turn leaving without desire
to turn over no stone
nor use any for stepping on
like the ones more close to normal
do coax

i do it all wrong
like they did me
i walk on coal
though from here
it appears
as though i'm an anomaly
only my sole seethes

when on the rocks
my walker, he makes me so strong
he lets me drink him from dusk to dawn  
he says he’d **** for me from here on
i love how foreign i am to him like heron

not the bird though it’s true
us three often see hues blue
we soar blue skies when our hearts fume blue
and they feel too sore like brews do
when they're too soft to heal each bruise or
make room for pain to grow and strength to bloom
so i walk on water as walker

kills me
he’s to die for
imploring in notes low
that i not stop, so i hop on
and once it’s well thought over
he can tell
overthinking’s my problem

i stand alone in the corner,
my core knows
all my o’s and woes
can be all gone
once one o centerfolds corner
and in comes the
coroner

who walks and rear-ends me
and e-r lose hope and leave me
when he cores me from his soul
and i let my breath roam

but he sends me
soaring over the moon
soon as he shows how he listens
and soon we both know
blinding luminescence

my eyes when they glisten
make all my mourning go missing
like the overthinking overkill
i hit when morning rays missile

and he curtails them at curtains
blacker than the blacklist
my man drenched
my nemesis in
deep sleep
with the fishes  

eventually, however
again and against my will, i endeavor
on reading the biography i penned
block my own writing
and let writers block lock me in
i get stuck on the same page
thought no force impedes
the power i home in my palms
nor my thumb's ability to thumb
through the page
yet i somehow flip it
and become my own victim

i did it.
it tells the history of tears
now extinct due to me overbearing
leading to drainage that came as
the very last bead beat me
for forbidding fibs
and calling dibs on *******

still, ringing in my ears
leaks empathy
for crocodile tears
trickling
as they salivate
over their next meal,
me

i swallow my tongue
not realizing fully
i’d just had my last meal
because they consumed me
quietly
with quibbles
and plots of consuming me
openly

ignorance is less so whats lacks
and with no inkling of doubt
worse in terms of that
which the mind keeps
then refuses to release
when need be
hence: me

after i head over
obvious traps
i let flash
atop my head

like clouds overcast
i’m convinced i tripped
on my own heels
like thunder that strikes
one man down twice
out of spite

but in spite
of everything, now that i know,
my eyes and i are drained no more
see, we’ve ever since grown more so
and metamorphosed
beyond words morbid

like those i anticipate
my gravestone
will go on
to hold

this is the reality of being kept cold-cut as meat
that heads *******, idiots, dunces, cons, and so on
those who bring forth obstacles that spurt in growth
inch by inch quicker than their thickening skulls

each time
the sage i pick thinks
my life needs spicing up, either
my screams of agony are mistaken
and my inseams nipped at the bud

or my spirits appear uplifted
and mistaken are my sorrow-filled tears
with joy-plagued wails,
each time
deep-seated sage seeds **** my green

lord knows that while i understand—to some degree
the world can’t come close or know what brews
in the disorganized chaos that is me intrinsically
i don’t fib when i allege that my angle isn’t deceit

nor right, necessarily
just dense as these
basins, wrinkles and dents
my tense cortex insists on heaving  

it would be obtuse of me
to anticipate that anybody
would watch my back
if not mine and me

it's all only a tactic
and i may feign obliviousness
to support this spinelessness
and keep it all in tact

insects fester
i feel each tentacle
extend incessantly
like these rants

they all ax my lumbar
no one's barred from my club
lumberjacks and jack’s slumber
i only lust after the latter

and jack's not all bad
he’s why my caps rested
soon as he hands it to me,
expressing the extent to which

i impress him
granted
my hands-off approach
that manages
to get hard jobs done
better than jills before

he’s a mild nuisance
when one of us isn’t speaking
but he promotes my irritability
with his attempts at weaving
our fingers together

it offends me
and all i long for
is knocking him out
like him and my neck's heart

or my kneecaps’ kneepads
the cap that’s my hat
can at last roll fast,
though no one should ask

i can’t say if i’m ok
jack ko’d my voice box
and i feel highjacked
but i insist, they insist
on the charm of the third

one i get him
like the lights, off,
that’s when i go on to hop off
tip toe off his tip top to get off
on the silence my mind writes off

none of it matters to me
mankind ramps up my love for luxury
the ivory warmth Mr. Browns rain
all over my cold windshield
puts me where i love to be

without them,
antidepressants
would depress and hail on
but their chocolate depressants
elevate me and i hail mary
when they hail hope on me
and i'm newly merry

when it’s all over,
i seek refuge and rush down
and on to the one and only John
where rest can be found
he’s bold as kohl and cold
as his marble floors call for

it's he who keeps my thoughts snowed in
and spares my teeth cracks no dentures can fix
suppresses my urge to purge like Snowden honing in
on how not one man cares less for one careless node in
systems nor the cancerous danger of no protests nor dents

it’s tasteless, the rice that is humanity
so i dine solitarily
in solemn grief
seeing the uselessness we
as crumbs and morsels have come to be

individuals in division
invincible in coalescence
bound to form solid solidarity
likely as the moment

satan and saint agree
to raise their satin
black and white flags,
respectively

to enwrap
two into
one
fabric. silky, smooth, seamless
as is the cocoon
          i once was foolish enough to assume
    would secure the very same wholesome skin
                         it would later go on
to help me consume.

cannibalism.
Jan 2017 · 327
bedside manor
absinthe Jan 2017
i asked him where my medicine was
“it’s on your side of the bed"
and suddenly i remembered you
after i had tried so hard
and let in hard
and played hard
and played hard
all i could do
was think about your comforter
and the comfort your words offered
how they comfort her still
when she’s weak and she lets you in
and hard that's softened leaves
even in your absence
imagine…  

the power of your presence to me then

she says she's sorry for my loss
though i’m sorry and i'm not
simultaneously
that she seems not to know
that what i lost was her
but she didn't leave me…
not forever at least…
at least that’s what i hear
my inner monologue speak
when i feel feeble and
i dread waking because it means
i'll have to keep my head above sea
and my true thoughts at bay
and i'll have to swim against the wave
because instinctively i don't give in
and as much as i would **** for you
i won't die because i let them drench me,
till i let the tide consume me
when i ensure that you're
the last image i see
follow me closely,
my tailgating tears

after you, i went to the doctor’s
i thought they were supposed to help
but they had me sat in that waiting room
for too, too long. almost as though they knew
of the last time you sat in the seat
i’m now writing these words on
penned poetry, just like me
you’re not here
and i'm feeling
sad and nostalgic
boxing out
fist fighting
violently resisting
even the slightest semblance of hope
my cruel mind tries to grant entrance

because i’ve been there before
and though they draw comparisons
between my knack of gathering information
that’s not mine to have and felines,
this is the exception
everything has one
and i'm cashing in
ignorance is bliss
it's never made more sense

i felt relieved as i sank at the shrink’s love seat

though i could also feel
the heart you’d enlarged
shrink in me
i couldn’t tell you anything about
our talk if i tried
for the life of me
i was too busy thanking time
for getting me away
from the waiting room
before i slipped away
and got it away from me

i started seeing people like this
you know them,
i was fathered by one who somewhat resembled them
the ones with a bunch of acronyms
listed next to the names their parents
gifted them. it’s saddening.
they’re all the same, robots
rinse
repeat
rinse
repeat
you’d have agreed with me

i guess i’m a hypocrite, though
i always knew little brother was right all along
i always denied the fact that a word that simple
could arouse defenses so complex
so as to divert my attentiveness
from the major setback at hand
aim, grimace, and flick metal at
the innocent fawn whose only wrong
was looking at me for long
enough so for me to see my reflection in
his ******* eyes
but i admit now, yes, i am.
a hypocrite.
because here i am,
collaborating
and manipulating the manipulators
to try to bring her back
because she was so happy
and ever since she left
you fled the negativity
and i don't blame you
that's why i use them
since they'll do me the same
regardless, as it’s a two-way street
i know they know what they're doing
when they hand me pills
in childproof bottles
my naïve questions
are enough "indicators" for them

and i play along
because that's what children do
and i make it seems as though i’ve just learned something new

like walking
and taking deep breaths
and loving sunny days
and life vests
and you

sometimes i get answers but never a handshake
not until we’ve zero'd it all out
by exchanging
pluses in bank accounts with negative NA motifs
at least i know, it’s all a game
and i like those a lot, you know.
you're the only one who really saw the child in me
she's been hiding for years.
shy...but instead of mocking nature
you made her feel how any little girl should feel.
so i win, because it’s all
about winning—my flaw, i know
acting like i know it all too
when i feel like i do
because i don’t claim
to retain
information
i never cultivate.

i drove home—or wherever the hell  
take it as a figure of speech
i’ve never really had that
not in my heart, at least
except with you
and thats all that matters most

like you said to me on the balcony
mama told me all that matters
is her sun
his heart
his soul
and the one
he chooses to sleep
next to each night
faithfully
her sun
his heart
his soul.
not wallet
nor abode
just.
those.

so here i am
sat, placid
apathetic
pathetic

reading him long before
he knew what he
was fixing to do
and i thought of you
so i walked to the room
sinking steeply
thinking deeply
sprinting wouldn't be
fast enough if it could be
that i could outrun
thoughts of a memory
because if that was you
and i’d seen your intentions
long before your own self
the influx of dopamine that would
flood my head
would’ve never driven me
to waiting rooms
in the doctor’s office
but reality is reality
as philosophers would agree

and i am me

though i’m unsure
as to what they’d say here

on my way to "my" side of the bed
right before I swallowed it
one more day out of thirty
pieces of her heart
that somehow
ended up in this
little
orange
bottle
she left for me
all i could fixate on
was the fact
that we had no fixed rules
or obligations or tasks
how we could fall asleep
and wake as we pleased
how you'd rise early
to move my car for me
to save me the officer's money
that i now use to sit in this crook's office
for this orange bottle

remember how we had
dinner for breakfast
true conversations without
no need
to divert attention from any
awkwardness at hand
by stroking our hands
on each other instead
and no curfew
or house laws needless?

do you remember my favorite?
when laughed as if we
were best friends sat by one another
in the classroom
struggling and breathless
because we weren’t allowed
to laugh that’s exactly what
made us red—what we can’t have

remember when we talked about assigned bedsides
the silliness of the notion because, besides,
once the electric shock seizes us and we fall
asleep in each others arms and hearts
left and right would merely do right
side by side just like
how our hearts and
words and bodies and brains
and all that makes us human
did

pure perfection.

you used to move me to the core
when you'd pull me in more
with those strong arms of yours
every time you sensed how on edge i am
and what i wouldn't give now
for that set side of the bed, left, right
that we had mocked as silliness

you’re the only thing
i wouldn’t give, if even
for the edge of your bed.
Dec 2016 · 174
exceptions
absinthe Dec 2016
spontaneous
as this piece is
add something, anything
constructive
it's all i've ever
struggled with
had trouble with
innocence
ever since
i lost it
but in a sense
i want everything still
everything
but to retrieve it.

- end
Dec 2016 · 402
this feeling
absinthe Dec 2016
right
about here is
when it turns clear. that
yes, the idea
of making three lefts
just to pay respects
to inanimate specks
like pavements
concrete on their stances
signs and flashes
there on the corner
like soldiers
or liquor stores
or my man--
hands black as he stands at
one-directional streets
now and again
but the
vanity
    comedy
fury
ultimate
insanity
don't change the fact that
we all know some acts
of mine are wholesome
on your behalf and
         his behalf
yet you’re all still driving
thin paths
mule-blinders on
almost narrowed my vision too
in tunnels
almost slew them
as collateral
damage
dimming
yet somehow
you still have the audacity
to turn around and look at

          me

bewildered?
though when i think
i give it thorough thought
it seems i see you
headed

right,
   and right,
and right again

so instead,
last time,
in desperate attempt
i veered
causing chaos
when i went;
left.

- end
Dec 2016 · 173
i lost 90 pounds
absinthe Dec 2016
let me know
if you’re ready
to relay
the weight
making you so heavy
2:10 AM
only sunshine from here
to 1:20.
AM, too
but this time,
there’s only
darkness
to see

- end
Dec 2016 · 286
roundabouts
absinthe Dec 2016
like my vehicle's exterior
i keep chipping away
and my cuticles won't heal
and my sick beak won't let them be
and they seep the color of my machine
but the burgundy never hinders me
i'm distant, it's why

i'm so driven.

i get no brakes
my right sole estranged me
it's not just the outside
decaying slowly
it stopped stopping
at my ****** bedsheets
it's festering.
i'm still peeling
desperately
all because

i'm so driven.

i'm still trying
to get to a place
where i feel content
but i just learned,
it's nonexistent.
why the ****
didn't they tell me
why did no one spoil me
by ruining my hope eternally
when they reveal that
it lives exclusively
in tables of content
and children's fantasies?
nonetheless,

i'm so driven.

my grip on my path
and this steering wheel
in my hand
face insanity.
there's no stopping me.
we'll stand divided
when together we give up
using the weak, pressing
their skulls with our feet
giving audiences that all
resemble one another
the illusion of highness,
of mightiness,
and stature,
and elevation.
but the ones with the
goodness and pure intent
end up broken
incapacitated
decapitated
aphasic
like history X—
—sure, they've submitted
but it's long past due dates.
they'll give up inevitably
like their blinkers, for me
they'll burn out in solidarity
and i'll feel better,
i know

i'm so driven

we’re incapable of looking up
or seeing the sun
when united we're falling
we'll always be too busy
competing with others' grips on rocks
incapable of epiphanies like the fact
that facing catastrophes in unison
doesn't change the ultimate reality
that we face impending doom alone but

i’m
so
*******
driven

to drive others to the ground
to make us history
to draw x’s
and plant pennies on eyelids
we've let it blind us
social desirability
is a one-way street
to three times two feet
beneath roads unpaved

to catalyze the torturous process
and injustice and cruelty
i drop more of my pieces'
readers off in the same spot
as i find myself,
more
lost

maybe then they'll be
indifferent like me,
in denial, too,
certainly, then,
they'll attempt
speaking to skies
chanting hymns and psalms
and similar reaffirmations
any maybe then, they'll look to me
then we'll all sing in harmony
and

"i'm so driven”

will be music to my ears

and before i gasp
to fill my pink air sacs
with more gas,
i will let it be known
that i am to credit for
the eternal peace
the mortality
of the cancer
that is humanity
and united
and divided
we'll all stampede
and get tangled in our minds
in webs too thick
to pass for silk roads
and the only thing we'll know
is that we won’t be abandoned
once we tailgate our neighbors
that find themselves stuck
between rocks and hard places
and the only direction in sight
is the former, so they pray
take a leap of faith
and
off
  cli
    ff-
     ha
       ng
         e
          r
          s
          .
        . ¨. .
Nov 2016 · 143
Untitled
absinthe Nov 2016
show me novel ways
let’s shovel up old graves
my inhumane unveils
revives former dull flames

and i see the beauty arson hides

i always never did at times
set indecisiveness aside
if for nothing other than the sake
of confronting fronts i fake

unearth wrath of the plague
at times i sideline my sides humane
and as much as i hate
these dark scars
i’m
not
    unfair

like the first degree burns
my skin scrapbooked back when
i took the scenic route down my path
and watched it turn each page to ash

though it showed me much more
when i saw paradise and its light
and it taught me new morals
when it told me that the only
way to see the light
is by cruising through the fire

as is arson's ignited flames
scaring strangers to pain
while behind curtains you and i sit
engulfed in light that grows
more beautiful the darker it gets
Nov 2016 · 352
scissorhands
absinthe Nov 2016
i incarcerated my favorite
hummingbird
i okayed it.
i entitled myself to confine it
in calloused cages

but it no longer flies
and it won't sing
my humdrum
hummingbird
has failed me

i pried open its gate
it insisted on insulting my pride
it estranged me when
it stayed in its place
placid as the melodies
it no longer hums or plays

it mocks me--
my existence
like the world did
till i persevered
now nothing affects me

but this thing...
this feeble thing
thinks it can challenge me?
i doubt its persistence
and if nothing else,

i'm confident
in its clipped wings

- end
Nov 2016 · 215
afterlife
absinthe Nov 2016
walk me down your streets
take me to your sheets

because all i want to see
is someone else, content
off of my mind's absence
someone else content
from all my mind's absence

and all i want to be
is somebody's happy
and all my Bacardi
is for my lungs  
is for my intestines

and i can't die
and i can't die...

and i can't hide
your stares
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