places I rarely visit
consist of programmers obeying restrictions
operating under false assumptions
distracted by faulty wiring

swarms gather under fluorescent lights
to contemplate organic life technologically
never satisfied with the diagnosis
for it always leaves them feeling empty

can I be blamed,
for not only wanting this digital life to be restrained,
but for also wanting it to change?

a persistent desire to aspire some revolution
to move away from
light pollution & pixel resolution
absent of
abbreviated emotion & cyber fixation
only
unplugged love & three dimensional conversation

it feels innate never relating
I follow you up the stairs
but we arrive at alternate lairs
your inner child throws tantrums
while mine cries in hiding places
that no one's ever destined to find

little peach colored amphetamine
allows reality
to be a dream
uncertain if it prohibits meaning
or stifles raw creativity
it's hard to decipher when without it
there seems to be no purpose
no motivating factors
are present in its absence

naturalistic existence
e x t i n g u i s h e d
by addictive dependence

lacking attachment to actuality
solely pieces of speed can calm me

to the cemetery
let me feel what's been coddled
by you
while chewing on this atmosphere
i tend to ask what is real
far too often than i believe is beneficial
the glass is never as sweet
as my lips portray it to be
i'll kiss yours in times of want
and need
and now
divert from boredom and bottled
liquor
not needed

i'll lay down in between
the bed and notion of what runs through your head

are these the biggest contradictories?
preaching to be free
while predicting to feel demeaned

foreseen scenes
where no other option
than depletion
will falsely make you feel complete

stay alive
for a feeling not yet felt
in the meantime prohibiting reality
with an induced sense of youth

continuing
until the word consequence
becomes solely a sequence of letters

hearts can really dive with deep infatuation
caused half by admiration
the others unknown fascination
I'm trapped outside
while my insides are emancipated
is it possible to be alive
during reincarnation?

too much upkeep
all I dream of is sleep
these social standards
are temporary cancers
only dissipating
when I count sheep
days fleeting
without eating
still I'm always choking
on repeated scenes
only relying
on things that aid in dying
it is no way to live
being so set on ending
when I didn't even begin yet

Facebook is great
at keeping fake friends
taking choreographed photos
and rating how well people show off

invasive on all levels
yet no one seems to mind
share every detail
every lie
everyone knows where you are tonight

gradual buildup
of bull-****
now all I can see
is through it
and all I want to do
is ruin it
all the flawed accounts with fake people
I can't stand it
I can no longer contribute
to the scene of social media fiends
who do anything
simply to be seen

relinquish your dependence
wave goodbye to all delinquents
then find you become in sync
with everything you feel and think

comfort is my enemy disguised in warm blankets and black coffee

comfort paralyzes me then tries to tell me I'm still free

comfort took me by the hand, caressed it, acted like a man

comfort is a covert leech using me each chance it can

comfort kills each opportunity long before it is presented to me

comfort is an illusion that fools me, invoking irreversible confusion

comfort is no longer comforting, instead it ignites insanity's bomb

comfort loves to win by pinning me down from my soles to my palms

there it goes, no
where,
we watch it go there, one
footed and half-hearted
a piece we liked
to think we'd never see again.
no, we don't need it, still
narrow minded, trailing
slow, breathing shallow
amphetamines
a substitute for blood
a glimpse appears vaguely, only
to be undone immediately

for all that used
to be leaves me
I turn to go each time
you leave me
still I stand like stone
believe me

states of mind so foreign
that the home in your head will seem
as if it's been quarantined
mental shelter can no longer supply safety
there is only room to roam
the negative spaces of your brain

each characteristic taken away
from the natural tone of your lips
to the shine behind your eyes
good luck on your way out
the road you chose
is up in smoke

but you don't have the pictures
and that's what makes me miss you

pages of past happiness
taunt me
haunt me
into thinking you're sorry

but I know that you're not
and I know that you don't
have a single nice bone in your body

though you didn't think so
I knew what you meant
about not being able to fake
a friendship
or feeling
a complete lack of connection
in most interactions.
and when it isn't real
there is no desire to try
or pretend to enjoy
the company given.

so much less pressure
weathering it alone.

constant company,
to me anyways,
seems to mean insecurity
or a desperate need for attention
especially that of one
impacting on others negatively.

to reach,
or even begin to know,
your full potential
you must give time to yourself
with yourself
for yourself
and yourself alone.

days dangling
persisting mists keep paralysis
locked upon these lips
priority checklists insist
there is much more to live for than this

but a pack of 20 is gone long before
the night arrives
to heighten my hollow feining core
eagerly willing to endure more
if it brings an end to the internal war

then moved onto 100's
it's the percentage of how certain I am
that all corruption
is never ending

these invented coping methods
-lists of pros and cons with cigarettes-
are not getting me any closer
to blending
only extending
the mending process
of which I wish I was commencing

I bet instead
I'll keep pretending
that this demise is intended for me
still I know I'm only guessing
and growing further away from
social structure
that has been made,
but made to rupture

the things I would do
just to have a chance to renew
my emotional palette

if I could I would take the past
and create a masterpiece

full of shapes I'll never see again
all those blurred lines
and dark hues
that led me to
my permanent shade of blue

I'd hang it high up on the wall
and each time I pass I'd be sure
to see and not relive my past views

it is happening less and less
nights where I can't help but miss
you're irresistible indifference

darling, you're undeniably vile
in the way you knowingly slap
a sheepish smile onto my face

how dare you carelessly caress my neck
some futile attempt to ******
after you've duped me?

no

I see only a lonely puppeteer
dangling all his past lovers in view

1 a.m. and I'm in
2 deep because it's
3 strike outs and
4 the first time it's
5 times harder than I ever expected when

1 time it all seemed
2 good to be true hearing those
3 words that were
4 me and only me but
5 thousand times apparently loses luster, still I miss the

1 love that brought us
2 gether for those long
3 years going strong
4 each other but
5 months was much too long to wait without

1 last chance
2 make everything
3 hundred times better than ever be-
4 I now would have to drive
5 hours just to look you in the eyes instead of
6 minutes through the old neighborhood to
7 Valleywood Drive where we
8 tortellini in the rain and by
9 p.m. each night we've already forgot-
10 the demons of the day in each others arms

like a droplet of rain
rushes to Earth's surface
women flock
like migrating birds
heading south for the winter
and if it's only for a minute or two
they'd all arrive early
just to be wooed by you

I know I leave a dent in your pillow
and strands of hair in your bed
but what remnants of me
if any
are left in your head?
am I solely erogenous flesh
that rests beside you
until awakened for pleasure
or more?
I don't wish to burn holes in your clothes
or rip tears through your sheets
but I'd like to know,
if not at least worth meeting,
worth more than a well kept secret

is the trigger
a pill is the switch
you are the engineer
encapsulating power to control
which way it is flicked
rewiring nature
so chemicals
are now rendered necessary
to feel
and in their absence
you are only a spoke
without the wheel

feigning flesh
pressed up against
stripped skin

cannot mesh lips
hard
enough
cannot touch limbs
soft
enough

a fleeting ripple in this vicious whirlpool
the liquid quickly relocates
all who dare to linger too long in its path
its wrath is relentless
never seizing for a needed breath
flows uncontrollably
until the day of death

nowadays
there is no substance
aside from the ones I inhale
no core, no passion
pseudo-people have prevailed
no possible way to unveil
the food of truth has long gone stale

fine with fair weather friends
content as a loner
the donor of awkward moments

but at 3 in the morning
when thoughts carve tunnels
through my skull
all that is real is a feeling,
an urge
to ask him how he's been

like children playing
basking in all that is unspoken
like the magic of laughter
or a nightmares decay

watching our faces change
sculpting them like clay
our lip corners linger upward
a metaphoric embrace

endorphins rushing
filling us freely
euphoric bliss has found it's way

the roots from which
i'd like to grow
now known for sure
no longer reliant on stunted malnourishment
or the flick of a tongue that spits lie after lie
consumption as a vice will **** you

inside of anybody who inhales
is always a spec of death
knowing with each breath
you get closer
and closer
it's unconscious suicide in retrospect

heat lets you drip into the backdrop
without notice
and melt into thick liquid air
alone

coldness knows its importance
a nurturing slap in the face
a playful bite whispers,
"wake up"

layers can always be added
but you cannot take off your skin

bored with the third dimension
growth and decay
go hand in hand lately
on a daily basis
we hardly pay attention

at what point do we bloom,
then begin our descent?
in essence I'm guessing
it makes no difference
we all reach the end eventually

keep ******* filters
popping capsules
downing poison
slipping tongues in

there will always be acts
to prohibit living
why don't we focus on what fills us?
instead of giving into
what kills us

"Renunciation is realizing that nostalgia for samsara is full of ****"*

-Trungpa Rinpoche

no longer filled with longing,
no longer safe,
no longer sacred,
is instead solely a barricade  
that we've created equally
made to keep our unscripted hearts at bay
getting better by the day
easier now to keep a distance
that puts arms length to shame

I erase you
Over and over
Word after word
Then start again
Unhealthily
With the other end
Of the pencil
The only thing
I know I don't need
Is the only thing
I know I'll never leave
The only thing
I know I need
Is for the pencil
To run out of lead

we eat we sleep we breathe

not mechanical
but biological

we grow we love we feel

we'd be wise to learn from trees

no self loathe
no flaws

if we look long enough
we're free - to understand & see
a reflection of ourselves

something about a face
with eyes of blue
makes it easy to assume
what the mouth says is true
calming color
quick to soothe you
but makes you blind
to what's consumed you

never have nor will I ever
know another woman
more certified than her
at alluring

makes no difference
if it is prey or play
I can assure you
she's magnetic
both positive and negative poles
have been perfected
to make it seem
like you're the opposite end

resistance to change is consistent
with the unknown comes
the anxiety, the fear
imbedded in human nature
found at the corner of each turn yet
refused at each glance

I feel the whisky stains
on both of my cheeks sitting in 1B
he gave me my shot in a martini glass
apparently on Wednesdays at 10 am
people have better things to do
he figured I was afraid of heights
the irony of alcoholism

with the trillions of micro thoughts
and subconscious nonsense
realness sometimes squeezes through
mostly things like
tall grass in the wind
even at the center of a runway
will make me feel at home
more than anything else could
just for a fraction of a second
why can't that be enough?
for a fraction of a second
it is