Nearly three months since my fingers have hit keys
in hope of creating something more than just
a message to a friend.

This is my message,
not to a friend
but something greater than just a quick hello.

Good bye

Hm

Creeping out of my head
they're sprawled across the floor
all hopes are dead
and laying there.

I have no want to go back to school,
although knowledge has always been my passion.
I can't even recall facts that I used to know,
like the creases on the back of my hand,

Music would radiate from my room
Either the guitar
the record player
or my computer would blast ballads
of love and of hate
but I can't even remember a single song
by the Foo Fighters.

And I used to know them all.

There is no love of knowing like there used to be
no drive for novels
short stories or poems,
I don't know how I am going to manage
the creativity that my life
will desire from my brain.

every desire to trip on acid
or philosophize like
Carl Sagan and Sigmund Freud...
or both

Dead as letters on this keyboard.

I used to be bright, long haired and free
I knew just about everything
and would be up to try anything,
but something happened and now
its flowing through the cracks,

I wanted to be cool
I wanted to be new
a smart boy,
with secrets of which
only some knew.

brain dead and sad
all my life draining
and I don't know what to do.
Now I'm a corpse
in a shallow grave,
if two feet above the my dreams
and queen sized
is shallow

I am only breathing
and thinking thoughts
because I maintain at least one
of my three beautiful vices:

One, keeping my heart full of love
for my pale-skinned sweetheart.

Two, maintaining a full mind
of thoughts for the future.

Three, making sure my glass
stays empty of anything stronger than
green tea, and my lungs clear of anything
darker than a campfire's exhaust.

It's late
and my thoughts are becoming gelatin.
All the little individual grains of
this and that
are melting and mixing into one humongous beast of an idea.

A monster, seeping into every crevice of thought
and corner of consciousness
a grey goo filling my cranium.

a magic
is present
in the ever present
number three.

Triangles

Years ago
I wore anything that came my way.
The oldest hand-me-downs
to the $20 shirts with stupid faces.  
Old cargo shorts fill my drawers a
and stupid hooded jackets
infest every corner of my wardrobe.

Years ago
I talked to anyone that would
give me two seconds.
A new friend
or an emerging acquaintance
every single day.

I feel like a child in those clothes now
those shirts and shorts
make me feel infantile.

I can count my closest companions on my hands
because who would talk
to me?