it's physics, alright, this whole thing is.
my mom flicked us off the goshdarn cliff.
all we're doing is falling but get this:
our fingers gon' find something to grip
ain't gon' do much, that, we will loosen.

we be fallin' and i reckon it will hurt,
y'know, hitting the ground, so small tip.
brace yourself, prepare for the worst.
it's going to be a pretty rough trip.
we will break bones and lose our heads.

we got no clue where we'll land
but we know what we're goin' through
and if we gotta fall we gotta stand.
while we fall there ain't much to do;
just fall 'til we go where we gotta be.

and in the end, when we're healed from it,
the someone you're with don't gotta be me.

The world is something I inconsistently love yet when it's you? There's no time to stop loving you at all.

i sat with the company of an absent mind
and while my brother bent over paper,
his hands carefully making strokes with a pencil
i watched and heard my mother ask him,
"what are you writing?"
and i thought, "when will you ever ask me?"

when i was hunched over my chicken-scratch-filled
notebook, you didn't even bother looking.
when i proudly read the feelings i turned into words,
where was your question: "what are you writing?"

i think i just missed when back then she read my stories
and waved it at my father.
i think i miss the grins that came after.
i think i miss when i wrote and you'd
find my childish plot and still think it's great.

but ma, ive written 40 poems this year
and when im hunched over another
chicken-scratch-filled piece of paper,
i want to hear the question again -
"what are you writing?"

I'm not a pineapples-on-pizza person but I know you are.
If I were pizza, I'd have pineapples on top.
If I weren't, would I have caught your attention?
Would you have made that satisfied moan when you tasted me and groped my *** - I mean crust (but really, what's the difference) - while you brought me to your lips for another bite?

We owe it to ourselves to grow
and think of the places we can go.
We owe it to ourselves to grow
just as high as the sky allows us to
but let it be that the sky owes it to us
to rise higher as we will it to.

Let the clouds part that our dreams may pass
and they flower into bills and wads of cash and more than that -
let it be that we don't stick our heads up our *****
and that we breathe comfortably together with those we love.

Let it be that when the time comes, we are cut down before we wither.
Let it be that decomposition should come after and that we die before we break down.

Her faint pop music,
The giggles they make
in the dark
In one room
Different worlds
Deep in slumber
Or awake on the surface
No in between
Sleep won't sink in
Patience wearing
Head ringing
Throat feeling bile
I'm tired.