with the demeanor of a centipede
you intervene and impede on everything
interpreting what i mean
your sympathy is a foreign thing
i’ve never seen an evil being
be so in touch with what i’m feeling

the paralleled walls
that the spiders dance along
crawling to the song
playing just before the dawn
under the shimmering sneaky sky
eyeballs glaring allow the sun to rise

we beg for change
and then meet it with outrage and anger
we should all be ashamed for the way we behave
never will there be a fight won
when the tides we feel are not *the right ones

the moon orbits around the world
worshipping it, loving it
believing his shine to be her pensive absorption
while the sun has been present since the very beginning
knowing the truth

i thought i would miss you more
finding peace in realizing my independence
left foot still trips on the steps but it’s wet
so i like to pretend it’s coincidence

so what will you do when you're dead
will you find someone else's bed
a softer place to lay your pretty head
a easier way to release a ****** day
or will you make it home again.

my last mistake
will be to make
the women in my life
carry me in casket
to my grave
so that they can let me down one last time

i don't like romantic movies
because i know that the end
isn't really the end

oh, how the floor boards creak
they screeched words like
ooooh this place is either haunted or old
and
yeaah you should be startled
but i'm not
i'm brave
i have the heart of a lion
you're my light in this cave

the sky lights up brilliantly and my eyes right the wrongs written for three weeks. the only piece keeping me on the street is my feet tattooed to the shadows and shoes. the only figure at the same altitude as my head will be my expectations. any doubts about us not wildin' out will be squashed when the bottle starts passing around. voices tell me that my choices will give me hell but my buddy Bud light, he'll yell back too loud to be drown out. senses weakened, we smoke beer and drink cigarettes til we sneak into cemeteries and the ghosts leak into our socks. we speak in shocking dialect that we'll regret when the sun is met by skyline but tonight we shine like the stars that nod their heads to the music of a good ******* weekend and this feeling, i hope i never lose it. love will be our beacon.

i love every stupid joke you tell
all your quirky punch lines
bringing me closer to shore
even the ones i don't get right away
because they soar high above my head

not a single frame of your oak eyes today
the only thought i had was of that song
the one at the end of furious seven
how pathetic am i

at the pinnacle of depression
a man can justify anything
in his own mind, nothing makes sense
but his own my mind.

use those beautiful words
you wield with an expert's precision
to convince this man to convince himself
to take the stairs

we must stage a coup
to free him from this oppressive heart
that has seized control of his actions
there will be violent riots in the veins
and looting in the arteries
we will toss crates of testosterone like tea
into the harbors of the bones in his face
flushed red and full of rust
they have neglected to consider what he needs
and only lust over what he wants
we will break the chain mil armor of adoration
and tear down propaganda named infatuation
and free him from this oppressive heart

if i was a betting man,
seventy seven floor tiles.
doesn't sound like a lot
but you fail to consider
the load you're bearing
and at the end of your journey
there's a cat with an appetite for your tongue

there's a wall, standing alone
at the top of a mountain
eight thousand and one hundred
seventy three polaroids pinned to it
some of them still yet to be developed
you can't teach an old dog new tricks
i'd like to meet the old hopeless quitter who coined that phrase

times winding down
sweat eclipses my brow
he shoots
the buzzer sounds
he misses
that's the game, folks

cheeks flushed red
out of the blue
something so fresh
something so new
without the slightest clue
why.

bright orange illuminates the sky
making an ominous silhouette of the tree line
burning it's fragile frame into my eyes

behind the gleaming in your smile
is where i'd like to sleep for a while

Our love
is the dry sighs at dry jokes
at a high five at five in the morning
lacing dreams and subconscious snoring
no more exploring the subtle scores
if i’m boring, you’re boring
found a little soft sound brown couch cushion.

my biggest fear
right behind clowns and dying alone
is that you would say yes
because you thought you had to

she was the flame that ignited him
from a sapling to a beautiful oak
but when he grows too close to her
he catches the fire she emits
and they both pass impetuously

he knows this is inevitable
so he waits until autumn
and prays his leaves will escape
from her burning passion
and shape the tale taped to their backs

and then it hit me!
like a truck or something that hits hard
you are the fly
a figment of my imagination
manifested through lack of sleep
and surplus of cheap german beer

the question
the answer
that will never change
regardless of how you feel that day
are you okay?
i have been

i only want to hear the words you write
i thumb through this mess of mistaken identity
and spilled guts that i truly appreciate so much
but there's a heart i want to explore inside
and you're the only one

the message received
from mother to me
do you have a girlfriend
i laughed myself to sleep

the list of things i wouldn't do
is shorter than the list of things i would do
to see you happy as a ******* clam

but i will wake up
on my own tomorrow
regretting everything

it's still going
i stopped growing
scabs and started sewing
my wounds shut
she grabs at what
she thinks is love
and when it's not
it's tossed in a ***
with every other
thing she wants to be lost
*she wants to be lost

the airfield is calling
but not before i've fallen gracefully
against my will on and through the hills
of baumholder and dripped every bit
of sweat that wet the night before
we'll sit, love struck punched drunk bored
snoring in a tent while others open vents
not a dollar spent because there's
no where to spend it
yet there's a feeling of something more
a longing that didn't linger before
i hate my job

where asphalt meets paper mache hearts
i'll stand amongst the cattle with a loaded
deck of cards. at the corner of content and 35th
watch me make money off of people who
don't have it and laugh at cabbage patch
kids in their graphic deaths
their parents' massive debts is probably the problem

she moves with the wind
they hold hands and skip
as they dance along the moonlight
they introduce themselves gracefully
to every fallen star and broken heart
handing out rectangular business cards
of condolence and compassion
the essence of what she becomes
when constellations reflect off
the surface of ponds and lakes
can not and should not be
describe simply by words
there's a very special room in hell
for those who even so much
as meet her presence with ill words

what a wonderful afternoon
i stood underneath til fingers began to prune
my name is not being called
and my phone's not vibrating
there's chills down my spine
and my pupils are dilating
my skin soaked wet
as the water met
my sore shoulders
eradicating sweat
i'm not done yet
embracing the stream
i hate this ftx
it was merely a dream

he broke the harsh silence that had
weighed the most recent seconds down
like a ship's anchor and beseeched
why do you keep showing up unannounced?
giggled, shrugged and dispersed
her memory avoided his inquiry

despite how i feel
you're still the one i feel
the fibers sings songs
filled with your name
and memories of it
**** it
**** it
i lie to myself again
void of memories
in which i didn't love
void of memories
in which you did

this night feels like a sigh
the painted sky
reminds me why
i feel so dry
landscape and flora
we were soaring
but the leaves dried

it's like pre - gaming really hard
being way to drunk before you even leave
some people need to throw it all up
get it all out and let you know what they ate
others, perhaps the more important bunch
just need time

there's this place i know
where it snows elegant white
where the graceful glow gallivants
with dangerous defiance in night.
to draft correspondence is criminal
and would force their hand
to eradicate infected people like myself
this place is anywhere you and i
share words and air

home is a funny word
sometimes it sneaks it's way in
unheard but not any less unwanted
i don't want to confuse myself

a diagnosis
fictional british soccer team
i thought it would help
but my teeth don’t feel clean
left on the lamp in the bedroom
swept everything except
what needed to be swept up

you're only as drunk
as other people say you are

everything that comes out your mouth
comes in with autotune and reverb
repeat transmission. again.
i want to hear and believe
it's just hard to conceive
that someone like you could love someone like me

it's crazy
everytime i wake up expecting not to see you
after seven months, i can finally feel you
and maybe in a way i kick myself
this independence day
how was i supposed to know you felt the same
when we were both so good at hide and seek

listen to the pilot
my brain started a riot
violent and vibrant
colliding with the quiet
mind beside me, hiding
lying on the tile
rivalry inside a missile silo
single file through the aisles
all the while you sit and smile
you did it

i feel like it becomes overwhelming
so many of my poems feel hateful
and i hate it

i want to write happy light stuff
about summer days and flowers
and feeling breezes
and skirts blowing
in that breeze