The kids chemically induced Reduced to ego threnody.
Amidst chaos he possessed influence. Would disregard coincidence And curse at the omnipotent. Known as lonely pessimist Could laugh at their own ignorance. Pops was drunk. Waved goodbye to any kind of innocence. Patronized Sympathized Irrelevant Sunk below the sediment. If humans could be celibate This death would have ended it Instead of only him.
There is sickness. Subtle insecurity in the tallest tree. Pride in roots that try and wont break free. Stabbed propped up shadows behind the kindest smile trying the hardest. Men leaving nothing in death but souls. Cliche communications speaking in color. Gray paths never make sense. Never. And death is but not without life. There is sickness. Curving straight lines trying to make a point.
As the spirit wanes the form appears. Well bukowski said it, i never met him. So i wont capitalize his name. I romanticized his stories when i was young. Whatever young means. Whatever romance means. I am not writing a poem I was taught not to use I or We or You In a poem. This is Zach, this is unbiased 10/10 bass line. This is you clicking back because you didnt know Hank either or you didnt believe me.
I am human. I think too hard too often. I judge others. I am judged. I need as much help as I want to give. I am self conscience about confidence. I feel like I am no different. I fear I am different. I am love sick. I question my worth. Wonder if I have what someone doesn't. I play humble as much as I like to hear praise. I falsely praise. I see beauty in people they can not see in themselves. I falsely praise. I am loyal and devious. I am worn down by lack of results. I don't know what I like to do. I lack a teacher. I require guidance. I will help what I love, nothing else. I want one girls forgiveness. I want her to know I hurt for her. I need a partner. I desperately want to give and take.
Simple words wrapped around stagnant constitutions written for half *** revolution. There will be no more Zach and Sineigh. No more Signature graveyards. No more Percocet 30. A real lose, lose. Shame in what I miss most.
Square one. Basic education on top middle class foundation. Teased by a girl eating off China. Rules enforced by the best case scenario.
Education sat beaten Between smoke banana walls in the southwest corner Of a building bubbling nonsense I sat proud and tense Eager Clutching at some no name chance To lurk and let down I gained your attention and lost purpose managing to tiptoe Into sincerity
I have crushed bugs. Not for science. No need for class or placement. What makes better? What is broken? Right and wrong, left and leaving. existence. In the palm of your hand. Waiting and waiting. To cross territory uncharted. Clawing at the what if! Clawing and waiting To be squished.
I am the emotional ostrich that you have made. You have bred me to hate To trust no one of flesh. Vain outlets you will never read. The sun will never see itself rise. You are a list of let downs And post-its of false promise. Compulsive like the moon Spinning through everything and nothing. You are the core of my being And remain the sand in my ears.
Go ahead take a good look. Go on breathe it in. I have a gap in my two front teeth. Still get the occasional acne And male pattern baldness Well I need that like a real dad. Really I don't. Look at my finger nails. I barely have them. It's called stress, maybe anxiety. We put labels on juice. Why not emotion?
Some things words will not say unusual is the subtle speechless man Uncomfortable is the sound of life Not unfortunate. Who says bleak moons turning sons to sun all before 0600 is a good thing.
Any feeling that I have comes from my throat but it's brewed in my heart and buried in my soul. A bitter ale beyond red tail and Mendocino swells. The grapes in all the wrath of fall and stories that we tell.
You are sand. You find a way into everything. Everything I touch. Everything I eat. Everything I see. Everything is sand. Keep your hands. Worry about your own glass. I'll be doing the same. Waiting to be more like you.
Learn to keep your head above water. Enough to watch all the ships sail off. Wading or conditioning, know you will never build a boat. Sensitivity is the boot on your head drowning you. Always feeling light enough to carry. Its drowning you. Just in time to miss the ships, swallowed in sunsets and blue deserts. But maybe you find Atlantis.
And it all amounts to nothing. It starts where it ended. Never known for what but for who. A bike made for two. Road alone and long In the crack you shouldn't have and the space you never fill. Its teaming. Flowing and running and going never stopping like emotion not rational. Freestyle what they see they are society. They are what they say you shouldn't. You want to be what you wont accept.
It's five in the morning. Dogs are kicking there legs. Your friends are sleeping Or trying to. Youth stale as drinks left over night and wasted. A lot like your friends Except no one cares as much.