I write far too many
*******
run of the mill
every day
emo poems

But guess what?
I follow in the footsteps of Andy Warhol,
a hero of my city.
You want this crap?
Okidoke!

Little bird
his back turned down in his cage
the fluffy down beneath the feathers
reminding me he was once a chick
and not so long ago
(though far away in bird years).
The stillness of him seems
like it should dash away soon
and he will flip himself back up
and start fluttering
and calling in that way
that zebra finches do
saying "hey, hey, hey, hey"
As his feathers fall into place, though,
the stillness sets in
slowly
like pouring syrup on your pancakes
Death, sickly sweet
crystallizing over his beak and legs
orange and stiff
like hard candies my great gramma used to eat.
And suddenly, even the movement of death stops
and there is nothing left but death.
Frozen as a candied bird
Oh, little bird
I'll be there soon

He just broke
right
down
Lips pushed up against the speaker
leaning up against my heart
I tried to crawl into the phone
but the holes were too small
and here we are now
feeling like we both went through a cheese grater
and no body said 'when'
when the waiter came.

It spreads, it pops,
and the blister hangs dry
stinging like a *****
so you can't quite put your foot down
Well, neither can I
so let's tie our ankles together
and we'll wander on like kid foot races
lean on me
lean on you
lean on me
lean on you
see, we'll make it forward
that shining city is just three years away
we'll be together
just remember
the first aid kit