Sorry.
I want to apologize for that last one.
Maybe I lost my temper a bit and that's not cool.

I just find lately when I sit down and put my hands on the keyboard,
with everything going on I just get so angry.

Angry at myself.
Angry at the world we live in.

Before you write that obnoxious ill-informed thought on twitter-
go **** yourself instead. and have a great day

Poetry is dead
Let's bury it in pages

Our misguided conclusions
Prejudice assumptions
Thoughts on love, lies, and isolation
(So many ******* poems about love can you stop writing poems about love? For like 5 ******* seconds no one cares about this love story that you think is so sad or romantic or whatever ****
No, I'm sorry that's mean
but it's a real thought I have sometimes
I guess I'm a bad person)
Vane photography
Images of *******
Subscription packages
2-day delivery
Telling other people how they are wrong
How we are right
And how we don't have to explain ourselves
While explaining ourselves every day in great detail
Applauding each other for our mediocrity
Great ******* job y'all
Every thought from every person
That has access to a wifi router

Meaning is dead
and it continues to die
Are you confused
Well so am I

Here's to the moments
Where your shadow holds more weight
And all you can do is stare at the blank wall

When did this sadness become so much bigger?
Something with sharp tooth and malicious jaw,
Biting as though nothing were even there.

To be truthful,
Sometimes I toss my heart away, like garbage.
Even though, I know it's all I've got.

For there's this thing inside me,
And it is something more than sadness.

Each poem I write is written.
Yes they know, that's very good.
Each poem by a different person.
Don't think that was understood.

With a unique mask
I'll hide behind
This same body
But a different mind

Love is
Like a sharp twinkling crystal
Beautiful in its aspects
And wondrous to consider

But it's a funny thing holding on to and the brighter it gets the tighter you'll want your grip

And you may bleed
If the edges cut too deep
And then you might drop it
Shattering on the floor

Even in shards and pieces
It still twinkles
But not the same

You're only as good as your last thought
your last word
seconds going by
there is no past or future

An atoms existence
on a ball of dust
this next move is a must
do or die or go bust
stop feeling lust
for the past
or pains for the future

Take this present
put every cell in the moment
that's who you are
and you'll be gone in a second.

*******,
you cookie-cutter *******

Fur of bat
toad-like grin
eyes of lazy gold
green in sin

Sitting on the edge of forever
croaking sweet lullabies
a tendril tongue spanning galaxies
devouring worlds like tiny flies

A slothful gluttony so boundless
a privilege to slip down his amphibian throat
let's spend eternity inside him
together churning, wailing, floating in the acid moat

Life's just one big long misconception when you think about it
I highly doubt anyone really knows what's going on
They'll tell you they do
They'll nod persistently
Glowing faces
The fools

Yes I saw the fools
The cherries waiting to be picked in the field
Hypocrites with blank stares to the sky
Couldn't even point a star out past a cloud
What a joke
I highly doubt that anyone knows
With so many misconceptions flying high
Like frispies and greeding dogs
Weeding bark bark

And yet we keep rowing these oars to a shore no one knows
What a joke our race is
Honestly
And yet what else is there
Do we know?

Old room, old habits, old house
Maybe today will be grand
Dust cobwebs off of sleeping eyes
Let's find a reason to stand

A never-ending parade of insects applying sunscreen to their shells and moulting for beach season.

Ripe Mother Earth was violated by American sandals from China
and not even Black Death could stop them.

A tight lipped smile below faded eyes
Shades of grey displaying the spectrum of colour

The teeth shine but there's no heart in it

The moment after It
all colour drains from the world

I realise I am empty
I was chasing a lie

everything is grey
it was always grey
I was just high on It
because I thought It was a rainbow
It wasn't

existence is suffocating in moments like these

and very soon I'll choose to return to It
that's the sad part

Sometimes you anime scream too much,
and then you taste blood on your tongue.
Your throat tingles,
like the betrayal of kings.

I am lost
in silent echoes without description

I fall throughout
like a rabbit in a hole of subconsciousness

I have the void
no one sees laughing from inside

I am synapses shocks and electric nerve jazz
lullabies so smooth you will never understand

Oh...
Oh how I wish...
I had been a longer chapter in the story of your life.

Possibilities of love I didn't fully take in
Falling memories like stars they fall
Unspoken

And now just...

The empty bed
The scentless sheets

The repetitive nature of loneliness
That same void like a breath of a lover brushing neck hairs
Remember how it sent shivers down spine

I must fall asleep with it next to me
now
in the darkness
alone

Sometimes it just hits you all at once.

A sad refrain rings his ears,
The rude drunk demands another
And another and another.
He laughs
Spitting years in the sawdust.

You're sitting in the room alone, comfortable in yourself.
That's when someone else walks in,
and now you're someone else.

Goodness leapt off the page which left a bad taste in the ink well.

Sometimes I fear where the bad words go when we don't write them down.

but even so
the good words will come back soon you know.

You are right where you need to be,
Even if sometimes you tell yourself otherwise.

I got a poem in the cereal box this morning
And it was very nutritious for my soul
And another thing
No sugar

I am so tired of being myself
Day in and day out
Could I be someone else
Someone sure that does not doubt

I am sorry I do not want to talk to you
I just feel sick inside
It is not cold and it is not the flu
There is just nowhere to run, nowhere to hide

And now you ask me if I am okay
As I begin to smile
If I tell you the truth I will ruin your day
So I will carry this burden another mile

the air coming off it,
if it is cold
then you are warm
and the two
meet in your hand

how are your toes,
does the carpet
feel like sand

seen enough of the sky
to be certain
when pulling the trigger

you reflect what you believe in
so does the bullet
so does your finger

you thought you saw
the sky more clearly
when you closed your eyes
on a sunny day

a message can be passed with a word
or a gun
and you did not delay.

the poet steps up to the podium
they turn to the page that is marked
grin at the crowd
and begin
by recalling how to breathe

"Are they choking?"

"Is this part of it?"

"No, I think that they are actually choking."

"No couldn't be, it's part of the show, relax."

the crowd applauds
with many a cheer and shout

then retreating to the exit signs
with a body on the floor

if anyone asks

it's too late,
the poet has died

choking on ideas.

"What were they choking on?"

"No idea."

if i
could understand
this grain of sand
my problems
would go

i just want some quiet
and to stop running from things

want to know what it's like
to hold on to something
for more than seven seconds

“old”
they called him
shriveled up
a lime

Eternity had spoken
and given birth
to time

his final breath
the air escaped
calm and pleasant
as a rhyme

the words exhaled
to his children
“not a single one a dime”.

****
i don’t know
find a way to do something
get out of bed
good for you

i’m tired of
nothing and
my hair is thick as weeds
it trails off where
my mind meets the edge of
nothing

what was i supposed to do
it’s gone now
oh well

**** tastes sweeter than wine when
regurgitated lovingly from
        a centipede’s stomach
used to it so crawl
        back for more
ring the bell
line up

the english language

ever try
to perform a ballet
inside a tractor?

And so the poem goes
left
to
right.

Your eyes try to follow
as words enter your veins
through to the heart.
A key to universal questions
you unlock cages married in riddles.

The floor inches away
your feet are weightless.
Toes wiggling in delight
like a new love
making contact with the eye.

The sun gets brighter
as your breath gets shorter
and you cry.

With the full scope of life
joy to sorrow and back again,
this poem of simple words
captures you
and sets you free.

And so the poem ends
left
to
right.

And your toes come down
to tickle grass.

A bullet in the chamber
is a wealth so small.
Bullet whispers,
tempts
and triggers.
One in the chamber,
a bullet in your thoughts
to shatter popsicle memories.
From a dream to a nightmare
one bullet
into bed tucked
goodnight.
Please
complete my silver grin
with an accent of red.
The future churns to dust
as bodies fill up my shed.

I cut into your heart like a juicy steak.
You stabbed mine back,
as we bled our mistake.

We left each other for good.
I had missed you,
then I didn't.
Time found the wound
and sealed it up.

Love is fearless
Except for time.
If someone you know has a broken heart
go to a store
and buy them a clock.

Say less say more.

Say less
say more.

Say
less
say
more.

Say
less say more

Say less say
more.

Ugly
smudges on mirror
sleepless
bags
tangled hair
I carry yesterday's mistakes into the shower.
Water dripping
with heat
suds
naked skin
buried in my knees
I cry till the water shuts off.
Tears drip
on a
towel as
I smile at the mirror
and dress myself in lies.

Hello.
Goodbye.
Hello turned to ash in my mouth
So I kept on walking.
Someday I will cry
For all the friendly strangers
Mistook for ash in my eye.

And then, it comes back,
Life ain’t forever.
But I wanna know,
Can we still chill when I’m dead?

Addiction comes again,
Cogitation fuels the yearner,
A soaked rag petting skin
As a bellow stokes ember.

Endorphins, tastes tripping on the tongue
Just a little,
Wet lips cracking with electric spume
For a piffling sip of ambrosia.

Want needs emptiness
When it is full of gluttony.
A ***** drop falls
rippling in the blood of energy.

Racing, flipping, falling through pages to the darker side of your emotions and it eats away at the better part of yourself until you're all but sand.

Sand left desiccated and burning
for a cold withdrawal of the tide.

Lone your stupor sits.
What reverie
you declare,
ambrosia never stang like this
since last the rain came stinging.

Ah but puddles my dear,
what fun!
I'll watch your splish splash
but let us not forget
the protection glass affords.

I fear large numbers.
I  confess,
it's true.
It's not the hands per se,
rather the eyelashes
and how they remind me of teeth.
They chew me up
with a glance.

Still, what good
could one decimal eyelash hope for
faced with Napoleon's specters.
I'd wager on scarce.

Even so, eyelashes chewed through
my thatcher.
I'll have to buy
a new one.
One that isn't so fond of how the Swiss
process milk.

Not that it's desired
but it's still nice to have a tally
in the loner's column,
now and again.

Poetry
Infected me
With flecks of ink
Asymmetrically.

Not impossible,
Inevitable.

Fu-
Fudge!

Remember Red,                                            
originality is not Remembered or Respected in Regards to art.

i’ll Reward you,
when you stick yourself in the photocopier.