She told me I was too cute
to smoke cigarettes
I told her she was too pretty to lie
I can see it in her eyes
she doesn't want me
just a passing fancy
like a stranger on the street.
I'm easy to love
but I'm easier to leave
that's why I'd rather it
be just me
'cause it's better
in my head
than laying in a bed
with a liar

There is nothing
worse
than smoking a stoge alone
knowing the white paper wrapped
around leaves is a Hearse.
Dying slowly with a friend
feels almost alright
but when the smoke
billows out at night
a locomotive with no incentive
you get pensive
and wish that cancer would develope
dropping you in an early grave.
The stench of burning bodies
isn't a story
with a life lived next to a crematory
the sizzle of the cigarette
akin to the sound of
bacon cooking in the morning.
No warning signs
from a petered out mind
cracked spine causing
an acid flash back
fluorescent butterflies
peek over the guitar strings
stinging like beautiful bees
while the trees take deep breaths
singing
"Breathe child...breathe"

Pulsating ache from my heels,
don't hesitate to collapse
and peel off my clothes
wrapped up
used up
bruised up

Waves crash
standing tall like
Poseidon's staff
mountain of gold
fog cleared
and worries
disappeared.

The gesso splashed
on my flowing arms
and flew through the air.
Not noticing I ran
my paintbrush fingers
through my hair.
The chemical smell hung
in the room
not looming but welcoming
helping to soften
this mind of stone
right smack in the studio,
it's been five years
since I've felt this way
like I'm finally
home.

Barefooted
long dress
glasses
artist and formed like
a work of some famous
painter.
Sat down next to me
borrowed scissors
to cut out colors from a
magazine.
Cerulean blue, pthalo green,
just a subtle gesture
but could it be
I held some interest
for a creature
like her?

The elegant curve
of the Hpnotiq bottle
slowly cleared from blue to pale
as the contents were swallowed.
but even after one fifth
I found my sociability
just as stiff.
Tony and I smoked
a cig
then left
like we did
when we were
kids

One time
in the midst of pouring
my life juice over
the dried out grass,
after pops left,
he came and set my soul
at rest
but now he is dead
forcing me to grow
old,
to embrace the cold
of an empty bed.
I'm so sorry Ed
that I'm nothing more
than a college drop out
I never meant to let you down
but I've never lived
for myself
always for
someone
else.

The click, flick
resounding from two sticks
to summon forth flame
that crackles across green
which dulls reaction times
and entices the brain
has reached an end

Synapses have been deceived
sun up, sun down
excited unnaturally
in attempt to blanket
the fear of future pressures

Now the absence of substances
has left the
levers, switches, cogs, and wheels
free to spin at top notch speeds
accelerating realizations
that I should no longer
be afraid to be
me

Fear looms from the ceiling
dangling its wretched mobile
of possible mistakes

Scabs are always
peeled, ripped, chipped
off early
because
fresh, pink, fragile
skin and scars
hold
beauty, stories, emotions
over plain
flesh.

Does my name
still fall from your lips?
And if it doesn't,
do you miss
its
structure?

Strong
opinionated
but I'm glad you see
and agree
with my reason
to be
alive.

I'm sick of liars and cheats,
past roommates who
don't know how to be responsible
kicking me in the teeth
with bills that built up a year ago, when
I wasn't even living there,
to pay
that **** isn't my responsibility
did you think energy was free?
And do you think my minimum wage job
leaves me with the room
to throw around money and
cover your *******?
I can barely pay for my own classes
let alone your mistakes.
A day ago a friend tried to off himself,
that hits hard cause I've tried to **** myself
and I know where he is at
I can't do much
I've said my piece, tried to be there
tried to hold so many people's heads up
my arms are getting weak.
I've been keeping my car together
with duct tape
just last week I was this close
to getting *****,
followed up by six days of work
where half the people don't pull
their weight
and I just got enough dough
to put food on my plate.
I once said
"it's never that hard to escape"
I was wrong
I'm so mad I could scream my lungs
dry and ******
and so sad I could collapse
and cry with my nose runny.
I just want someone honest
to hold me, they wouldn't even
need to say anything
just let me fall asleep next to them.
This ******* pen that I put
so much of my heart in
doesn't stop the hurt
just puts it in words
so I can read them on repeat.
Hell I don't expect anyone to like this
it's a mess
a mirror image of me
my reflection in a sense
and I realize we all have problems
and none of us can stop them
fine, I'm going to drive until
I run out of gas
or crash
anything to make all this ****
in the past.

Isla Vista
twisted you
like a warped Twizzler.
You miss her,
but the Xanex and K-pins,
the fifth of gin
that brought you to your knees,
spinning in the throws
of ODing,
kills everyone,
not just yourself.
Maybe your first breath
after being an inch from death
tasted brand new,
I can only hope
that support from us all
will keep another bottle of pills
from disappearing
down
your
throat
.

Food is finally
a possibility

Orion's Belt
burns through the midnight quilt,
imaginary lines
like the scars on my thigh
and the one near my eye.
The doctor said I was lucky
to still have the ***** of sight
but I feel like it was lost
for I am
blind.

You yelled at me
for lying, rightfully
but you made it seem
like you'd never done
the same
and the night of my recital
if I hadn't begged you
you wouldn't have come,
we even left halfway through
to see a movie
and I can't remember the title.
Support was what you claimed
but you never dropped everything
to see me
though I did so time after time .
It scared you when I didn't say
"I love you"
back when you said it for the first
but what's worse
is that you clearly didn't mean it.
Your lips spoke of forever,
your kiss didn't agree
I was already ******* myself
for forgetting to bring you tea,
two years I gave my all
but I see now
I was the only half of the whole
that took the fall.

The few moments
that the electric pulses
in my neurons
link to you
I am the dark side
of the moon,
the dirt in my wounds,
the tremble in your hands.
I can barely stand myself
or what I did
when we were kids.
Since then I've been in and out
of euphoria,
seen death,
lost and gained,
so know that I've had my
fair share of bad Karma,
and can't stand
that it was you
that I
played.

I guess
I'll be the guy
that pounds on the walls
to get my neighbor
to shut the **** up
.

Worn wheels rattle
over chipped concrete,
scarred wood lathered
in black sandpaper,
slaps against hole-y shoed feet.
Seconds after the pop, the board
slams to a stop
throwing me to the street,
blood pouring from elbows and knees,
try, try, try again
to kick flip in hopes
of being
freed.

What's the ******* deal
Karma
even when blood leaves my veins
for a honorable cause it ends in vain
even when I stay vigilante on my ****
it's like my ***** are getting kicked
and all I hear is
"Keep your head up, things get better
good things come to good people"
then where's the ******* good?
I'm broke, can't get classes, can't afford food
and I'm not spending on a whim
I budget, I save
but here I am a wage slave
**** it Karma
you are just like all the fake religions
follow their opinions and end in heaven
just like lucky number seven
or wishing on a shooting star
last time I did that I wished for
"All my friends and family to be safe and happy"
a week later Eddie died in a car
My faith is gone, just like my happiness
put out, shut down, left to rot
and to think I thought
being a hardworking, noble person
got you somewhere

Situation crystal
clear, sharp, and out of my price range
I can't give in just a little
it's bone dry or the whole **** thing,
head first, can't catch a breath
diving through this party scene
bring me a drink
cause I'm broke and I'm thirsty
I can't pitch in, but I can show you a good time
I'm not a dime, no where close to a ten
but looks don't matter when
your in a crystal situation

This triple time heart beat
is tapping the breaks,
throwing in a rest,
it's a twist, a shake.
Feelings duck back and forth,
is this compass pointing North?
Is that your direction?
My maps are all ******* up,
drenched in the oceans,
my vessel in locomotion
turned about.
Sink and shout
"Hit me when I'm down
as long as you do it all night long!"

Pit...pit...patter,pitter,patter
standing in water
poured from the sky

My first memory
has set my life course
Great Grandpa down the hall
whistling
and Great Grandma
speaking to a ghost,
making a charm to keep me safe,
but to this day I feel
presences flitting here and there
I can't tell if I'm mentally ill
or if I really sense spirits
drifting through the air...

It would drift by
on the airstream,
created by a stranger somewhere,
soft and sweet.
I'd stumble in the subtle
shades of the scent
till it dropped me at you,
the trigger pulled on a bottle
of perfume.
But my nose hasn't
gobbled up those particles
for quite some time,
your aroma
no longer on my mind.

Only a week and three days
till I get paid
and the fridge light
will have something to shine on,
the acid in my stomach
will have something to digest,
the knives in the drawers
will come alive
while the stove flame
will be burnin' bright
heating the single pan,
these are the thoughts
of a hungry
man

I feel like
I say it with
every word
and it tastes stale
on my tongue,
it sits at my doorstep
hanging from the handrails,
scratches at the window pane
keeping me up at night
despite my weary lids,
it lays in the empty space
next to me
weighing like a stone,
permeates my walls
telling me over
and over
a single word

Alone

These hardwood floors
are cold against my feet
like a chilly kiss
laid to rest on my cheek

Cars cruise by
red, green, white
who knows why,
but their headlights
remind me that
you are dead.

My generation
has been taught
to hate the hero
and cheer on the villain
but maybe we were just given
the wrong heroes...

I worry
because I've been alive
twenty years
and still don't fully like
who I am,
how long will it take
for someone else
to love me?

I can't tell
if having options
for handwriting styles
is odd or not
but I finally chose one
I dig a whole lot.

A little to the left
then a little to the right
I love the fact that
I can now arrange my life
how I like.

Her name is like four-leafed clovers
because pure luck put her
climbing out of the apartment window
to tip toe through the rain
and remind me that it's never that hard
to
escape

I care about
every one
of my friends
more than I care
for me,
so when you say
I don't give a ****
I get offended.
I'm tempted to show you
what not giving a ****
actually looks like.

The spots I'm seeing connect,
forming an image through my cold sweats.
I feel like a jest but nobody's laughing,
it's silent like the inside of a coffin
at the graveyard, only sounds are
the footsteps of the drunken night guard
playing cards with the dead.

I sleep
with my feet pointing
toward the door
and my arms
wrapped around a pillow,
bent like a willow,
till I'm sleepy enough
to see it as
you

My confidence's throat
has been hanging wide, slit
for a quick minute
but today, a receipt that
offered two dollars off at
Starbucks, gifted on a whim,
sowed it up just a little bit,
and left me with a
grin.

I haven't bought a pack of stoges
in four whole days,
that's saying something
when a full pack
could get choked down
in one,
80 sticks
of burning leaves
that didn't let me breathe
ain't it strange, but I feel...

relieved?

I'm more solo
than a red plastic cup
people don't use me
just to throw me away
hell, they don't even pick me up
in the first place.
I'm the toy at the bottom
of the toy chest
the one that gets sent
to Good Will
and still gets passed in the isle.
The workers keep me awhile
then chuck me out
with the other useless
things, right on the
trash pile.

I wondered
how floored I'd be
if I looked out my passenger side
window
and saw the glow off your skin
and that white cardigan
blow
in the wind.
to my surprise, I realized,
I would probably laugh
just a little,
give the volume a little fiddle
to crank it up, and ride on by
cause I wouldn't
give
a
****

I tried to use
the sound of the shower water
to meditate and calm my waters
instead fell further
into the waters
of my
head

This acne stuff is painful
can't even show my face at work
without feeling shameful
cause people are nice, yeah, but you still know
the first thought in there is, "Whoa
that one's real red and that one's two!"
but I swear there's a clean mug under
these red dudes.
From sweat or stress,
but they add to my stress and make
my face a bigger mess
I'd rather always have a runny nose
than deal with this,
I'd just get addicted to nasal spray
if that's all it takes then okay
sign me up and let the process
take way!

I smoked a stoge
with a homeless bloke
and as I took drags
he spun tales of signs
coming from a tiny silver dolphin
laying in the parking lot
my aura was pure white, he saw
because he sees these things
and when the words
jumped off his
drunken breath
my blood
f
r
o
z
e

These beats
have stirred up
deep thoughts
long drained and dragged
like empty lakes
for goodness sake
I thought I laid you
all to rest...

If I try
to make art my life
I'll end up homeless