plot out distances between freckles
and count the amount of hairs;
in a beauteous analysis
a cold witnessing
of)a featured lifeless gaze
projected onto windows
refracted in time with the pounding
from lost soulless ghouls
in a dank puddled basement
as we stare through keyholes

the length of life waits to rescind
to wash up on the shoreline
anew, once refreshed
with Angina on

wading in cyclic waves
in deposits of reveries
stale orangeade sonatas
and dull area tirades


the purpose
economized

every axiom
americanized

and as your atoms become depersonalized
tension is materialized, in ornate ivory
shattered brass instruments rusted by
novels written to god
in a
fractured light
and range

cramped in a curtailed distance
a brickwall deadend universe
gnashing with frustration
****** yawns of futility

closed viaducts
and vacant lots
deafened eyes, grey
glimmering in retort
to their own expression


blind sight was squandered by the snapback, of all the
strings of the orchestra as they were simultaneously snipped
by sharp prying eyes, listening to the mixing of paint
to smell the music, its arms limp, vivid
wishing to pull you back (in hindsight)
with dreaded, deadened incantations
a dithyrambic liturgy to the drunken thoughtless night
of slurred litanies and unappeasable, irascible deities
lonely and immaculate, all-powerless and deft
in irksome quarrels and arguments
glossed over by the fine print of another
exalting the vainglorious self-inscribed paragons
and revelling every inadmissible mistake

gazing past to a solo star
dumbstruck and dead
from an evaluation
and dehydration

dying to know
forget it.

He's there at airports and doctor's offices
between my love and I and when I'm at work

and when I invite him to come out and stay with my friends
and at family gatherings on holidays he never shows

I say, "Time, you're starting to **** me off."
He replies, "You should see me when I'm wasted."

Enraptured by our sinful freedom,
we worshipped the moment.
The wolves of wisdom at the heels of
our frolicking hares.
They haven't caught up yet,
don't hesitate.
You admitted you love her
but your eyes were flooded with my own.
How could I speak
when my dreams were materializing.
You grabbed me when I had never kissed before.

You stumbled upon me
     when I was down on my knees.
Broken, I told you not to bother,
     but you knelt beside me
     and reached out a hand.
Helping me up slowly,
     you showed me your own
     bruised and ****** body.
And I knew you had been stuck
     down there before too.
So I met your eyes cautiously
     and let you guide me to my feet.

I think if you had stopped there,
     we wouldn't be here today.
But you weren't content
     with just setting me on my feet.
You gave me a step up,
     then another,
          and another,
until you had me on a pedestal
     I never wanted.
I was never meant to be
     the princess in the tower.
I can't live up to that.
Heights scare me,
     and the air suffocates up there.
So with the pressure pushing in,
     I did the only thing I could
     to free myself from the fearful view.
                                                           ­           I jumped.

I wake up on a yogibo. It's comfy, but,
I'm in what is now just
My room.
It feels empty.

All the clutter
That made it look lived in
Is in the three empty
Sock and underwear drawers
That used to be:
Hers.

All the pictures of us
and half the nerdy posters
were removed from the walls.
Half of the games,
movies,
books,
Magic the Gathering cards,
Are all gone, so the shelves look bare.
Half the closet is empty.

I walk into the hallway and pass three doors
The first door leads to a bathroom,
The second a closet.
The third is what I now call a "guest bedroom".
The only things in it are an
Empty dresser covered in
Princess stickers...
And a bed frame.

I try not to leave that door open.

Go Down stairs
Sink into car,
Turn on Spotify
Crank the volume to 24
So I can't hear my own thoughts.

Drive to work.

Belt all of the lyrics and jam to "The one" and "Whoa whoa whoa" and "sloppy seconds".
By Watsky.
Clock in,
Apron up,
Shout: "Morning, family!"

How am I doing? "I'm awesome! how are you?"
How am I doing? "I'm wonderful! what brings you to freeport?"
How am I doing? "I'm fantastic, peak or dark roast?"

How's my daughter?

"Well actually... I
Broke up with her mom
And I
...
Wasn't the biological father
so I don't get to see her anymore.
My manager said that customers are getting
Uncomfortable around me
because I am too open so that's the
Scripted version I have to tell you."

Even though I'd love to tell you
that I don't know how she's doing,
and it kills me.
How I told her mom that even though she didn't have any
Compassion left for me,
And she lied to me,
Tortured me more than any human
on this earth and was slowly draining the
Life and sanity out of my body
like a leech, that I
Knew what I was signing up for
when I started to call myself
Daddy.
That I was leaving her,
so we could both get
Better, but I was not leaving that little girl.
And if she would let me
Love her, or
Watch her, or
Buy her birthday presents,
I would,
because she was the best thing to ever happen to me.

when you ask me how she's doing
All I can think about
is how I earned that first "I
love you,
dada."

How I made her laugh more times than her
Mother made her
Cry. How I tucked her in
and she made me read her
"Oh The Places You'll Go", over and
Over and
Over.
Screaming when I said she'd go
On through the hakken kraks howl, and
Giggling when I said she'd move mountains.
I raised her for three years and she called me
Daddy.
But her mother said
that because I wasn't the biological father
I don't have any right to see her.

"How am I doing? I'm awesome."
"How am I doing? I'm wonderful."
"How am I doing? I'm waking up."

Your heart has empty corners;
You'll never know I'm there.
I just need a place
to rest my weary bones.

the moon tipped over
and it spilled out all of
its contents.
an empty bowl
knocked carelessly
like the stars in the sky
were the mess it had made.
just a lovely mess

I was the crescent moon
I had been tipped over.
you knocked me carelessly
and i fell helplessly
all of my contents spilling out of me
revealing to you my galaxies
and i became nothing more than
just
a lovely
mess

The devil carves his name into my skin
The blood reads: *disgusting

I am in love with people I have never met
        homesick for places I have never been
        I have memories of experiences I have never known
Leaving me with the broken hearts of strangers
        I have never had the chance to love
And the strong arms
        that have never held me
Yet those arms are my home, my recluse
        those broken hearts weigh heavy on mine
        those experiences are my
                compass leading me through the
                twists and turns of life
                on blind faith alone
And those people, those lovers unknown
        light up my sky like the stars at midnight
        always there
        countless and beyond reach
        waiting to be loved
                and give love in return