Ex-Girlfriend calls me up on a friends phone,
says to meet her at quicken loans.
I get there and she tells me her and her friends
are "getting food", except they're not.
******* Caucasian zombies rotting away in
get rich doing nothing schemes,
"Peel and orange, beat a coconut"
tell me what class of poor sap you're trying
to pry from a months rent in the name of an
"investment".
I thought I would at least have a conversation
with an old friend, but instead I got forty minutes
of some ******* belly-aching
about being a teenage dirt-dad to
try and get me into "the Elite".

It was a waste of a ******* night.

Took the train home with some loud ******* white people,
and got lost in my own reflection.
The look, that look,
like an animal getting beat by it's owner,
the pain and confusion,
love and betrayal.
I don't want your money, or they're money,
or Donald Trumps money, or easy money.
God, I want to ******* die on a bus
reeking of **** and penniless.

What a ******* waste.

Of course it makes sense, now,
but it disappears; passes between your fingers
like sand, like water, like salt, like blood.
Stains and makes religious connotations,
although I'm a non-believer
and so are you
and so are they;
The ephemeral heroes.
Absent or cloudy minded?

The impossible riddle.
We went searching for gods, devils, angels,etc.,
and instead found an embarrassing truth;
the blunder in centuries of slaughter.

Q: "When is a door not a door?"
A: "Usually you'll hear sirens.
An unusual amount of broken glass,
or a crater, or a statue of a maniac,
or a portal to someplace in time, space,
maybe it was late November,
when you took cash from a woman coughing blood,
12 hours ago the man walking down the street,
screaming, "**** MY MIND. I'M SO ******* STUPID.",
ghosts aren't real, but people are, and we treat them
like they are invisible don't we?
Treat them like windows."

Saw someone drop their phone
and laughed at them.
I'd like to watch the world drop
their stupid/smartphones
and have to look at each others
stupid goat like faces and gazes.

Remind me what heaven looks like,
all I remember is that I'm a scumbag
with moral insensitivity and
you are my nightmares off the page.
Simultaneously a classic,
also a contemporary gore piece.
A landmine seized by epidemic.

Walked away with an insincere
"I'll see you later",
and I responded with a sincere
"Whatever."
Maybe I'm destroying myself in
character slowly but it takes
so ******* long still.
I cheered an old man who crossed the street alone.
I'm getting too close to yelling at a manager,
and losing a job I need to much.
Too close to the edge, but
when I think about it I always am,
and when I think even harder
I hate everything so much.

I didn't know you could read lips,
so I laughed unreasonably hard when
people were telling you their *******
excuses for not being able to
donate money to you
and your family for Christmas.
The irony being I gave a stranger a
roll of quarters the other day
because they asked,
and I'm eager to lose all riches and go insane.

Yelled at my girlfriend for the first time yesterday;
she was frustrated that I wasn't frustrated that
she was upset, so
I banged my head against the wall and screamed
"What am I supposed to do?"
Still have the mark somewhere under this free haircut.
I don't get how we all push people away
and beg for them to chase us.
Never give me a word, but always
want me yearning. Not old yet,
but not from lack of trying.
Not wise, but it's not desired.
Fools make kinder people anyways.

Amen to "I'd rather get ****** and keep giving."
Guess you could say I make it rain on those in need,
but please don't. Don't ever say that to anyone.
Write it down somewhere unspecified and
lock it in a drawer, or light it on fire.
Put it through a shredder,
I'll tell you a little secret,
I'll try to tell you a secret;
Most of us are more selfless than Christ.

Merry Christmas in August.

If you were a flower
I'd drown you in water,
burn you after you died,
and keep the ashes under
my mattress,
then craft a poem
out of your roots,
and toss your soil
into a lake.

I count the seconds till the clock strikes twelve,
The only thing I can count on.
No cakes, no candles, no presents,
No friends expected.
Another year and day about to pass,
The loneliest day of the year.

I know no-one will knock,
But I sit close to the door.
I know no-one will call,
But I have my phone ready.
It is the longest day,
As I wait for them.
It is the shortest day,
As I hope they make it in time.
Nobody knocks,
And nobody calls.

On this day,
I blow out imaginary candles, and wish
With all my heart,
That I didn’t have a birthday.

I’m squeezed like a lemon,
My feelings so sour,
The juice, so acidic,
Burning me within,
It leaves a hole in my stomach,
Expanding into a vacuum,
******* away at my mind,
As false memories of you,
Steal away my sanity.

When we don't talk
Every second
Feels like a minute
Every minute
Feels like an hour
And every hour
Becomes unbearable