i thought i wrote you another poem
but really i just went empty for 3 hours
and dreamed of hammering nails into my forearm
(but now i guess i'm writing you a poem)

i like you

Can
       you
              please
                        turn
           ­                  out
                        the
                 lights
         when
    you
go?

I was going to write a poem today,
About love and loss,
Sin and gin,
But the motion was buried
By the question of how to drown myself
In the puddles outside my window.

I ******* ****
at making conversation
and being anything but boring
(you know it, I know it, stop pretending
stop pretending I'm interesting)

driving 90 mph on the freeway with the windows down and the storm makes the sky look like the bruise your teeth left on my neck when we made love on my white sheets with the fan on full blast

2. waking up in a cold sweat from some type of horrific nightmare and staring at the moon in the black night wishing you were right there next to me telling me it is all going to be okay even when I fear it won't be

3. jumping off of rocks into the river with a slight intention of never resurfacing only to realize how cold and dark it is at the bottom and I find myself reaching for the light and gasping for air