you left sinkholes
in my head
large enough
to ensnare my
wildest, unfiltered
dreams. they're
now trapped in my
mind and lost in the
grey matter.

ashes to serotonin
norepinephrine to dust
ex nihilo nihil fit

the guitar yells at me for not picking him up
the bass hides in the closet, feeling neglected
the drums are hollow and dull now, forgotten
the voice has left my throat, hiding somewhere
the poem disappeared under the weight of words
the paint evaporated much quicker than dried
the thoughts vacated before they ever moved in
the words were lost before even I was founded
the the the the the the the the the the the the the
the art is abandoned by those who can't follow
the lost sounds, ideas, pictures, and madness.

there's a hippie girl waiting for me
in a coffee shop a few blocks up the road.
she has no idea im not coming.

it's fun pretending to be someone else entirely
assuming a new role, backstory, character development
it's like being an actor, except there's no camera capturing
my performance, no crew writing my perfect li[n]es.

so there's a hippie girl in a coffee shop,
and i'll meet her there in a few minutes
and she'll believe that she's met the real me.

meanwhile, that coward can be found hiding.
don't ask where- I'm still looking for him myself.

the best part of being near-sighted
is the way street lights shimmer
late at night.

looking out my bedroom window
abandoning my glasses and lenses
and watching the lights pulse and
dance.

it's a simple pleasure I've done my whole life.
it's also a great metaphor for my ignorance.

I woke up on the bus today.
for the first time in two months
I actually felt awake, alive, atlast.

So my little orange bottle plummets
from my third story window, into the
gutter, and out of my head.

I'll face my problems myself, thanks.
starting with this poem.
ending with this person.

she tells me:
no other boy
has met the bar
that you set in the past.

she tells me:
now that you
know that your
ego will fatten off it.

I shrug it off.
It's like accepting
compliments on a symphony
from a man who's been deaf
his whole life

stop me if you've heard this one before.
actually, don't. don't stop me at all.
let me fall. let me slide down from
my lofty position in my own ego
let me be a common beggar to
my own self. I'm sick of my own
need to be superior or elevated.
let the mountain of myself topple
into the great abyss below.
in it's place, help me build a
massive tower to you. I'll haul
up all my humbleness and respect,
my love and my gratitude.
let that stand instead.
I'll just be at the bottom,
casually smoking a cigarette
and waiting for you to notice.