Specificity is the mother of my demons and I live my life
like A vague ascetic
the gap between expectation and reality is where the pain is

When I taste tequila
He says the burn is okay and normal
the caveats of my tongue are pressed with the bitter solace
You don’t know how bad I need you
you are my Irish cream, my guilty pleasure
Dancing with the devil but instead dancing with you but is that the same thing
the moshpit of our own twisted minds and our consciouses are two twisted sweaty bodies
whiskey and red wine and champagne and all that
Why do I write about males
Hot commodity
I will pretend before I admit and admit before I realize
i can hear my pupils dilating

you have wanderers’ eyes with
impossibly long eyelashes
high voltage in my lips
my teeth jitter with each word but
i have nothing left to say
i wish I cared more but
damage control
matters more

what could have been
a glance of longing
Is now
A gaze deep into glazed
Passive eyes
With
Impossibly long eyelashes

when did my life go from
simple pleasures with uncalled for meanings
angst and dread simmering
like a rhubarb reduction
suffocated by the plastic euphemisms
the children of a flat white perception
beautiful girls and beautiful moments
words spilling like coffee stains on pages
secrets not really meant to be uncovered yet they just ebb from a throbbing conscience
when did my life go from this
to a vulture’s disdainful touch
my own aura emulating blankness
no thought and no asphyxiating emotions
eyes vacant of animation but dilated pupils of magnificence
cardiac arrest fueled by the most ragged and raw and remorseless of experiences
whistling wind and tangled hair and looking up into the sky and seeing absolutely no stars, just light pollution, but ******* light pollution is beautiful the city is beautiful
I feel no need anymore to tear my own conscience apart
to make up for the pathetic excuse of an experience that we fabricated for our amateur selves
now I have my experiences. and I experience them
void of guilt and regret and self deprecation
self pity is the most attractive thing I’ve ever experienced
but no longer can I stand
waltzing like the court jester
instead I chose to wander like a lost prince
to each their own.

Ignorance is bliss
a Christianity driven pool of lethe she said
I really don't need this

Considerate movement of systematic gray
The holy trinity consists of me and you and us
Or maybe me myself and I
On this platform it melts together
I see in two dimensions but with you I see in one
The impossible intricacies of the worn tracks both exemplified and diluted
Or dilated
I would not know
Tattoos of crows mid flight on my chest
One for each mistake and a star for each regret
Let us just say
A blanket of migration under a dark dull and void of light night
Just take the **** train
And leave it behind