handrail, wall, ceiling, stair
tumbled down the whole flight
by mistaking the door
for the staircase as the door
for the bathroom
as doom loomed near
nothing had been more clear
I've been falling down stairs
my whole life
bruising, aquiring contusions,
bleeding, clotting, bones snapping,
regrowing,
I'll be okay, I'll be okay
if I can just manage to crawl
back up to the party
to the... party
to the...
to...


**blackout

I've gotten so good at being alone
now it's a great time on the couch
surfing the web on my phone
singing with a wide mouth
letting random melodies pour out
throw in a shout or a laugh
chilling with myself like a *******
but it's fun, acting exactly how I
want to act, patting my own back
I'm glad I didn't let myself as a best friend
slip through the cracks.

I was thinking about adding links to audio of the poems that I wrote specifically to be read allowed (Memory Loss, Made Me Dance). If any one thinks they would enjoy that let me know and I will do so!

All my stuff
in         boxes
 I         guess
this is it

Today I realized that I
am one of those people
you see characterized on shows
that just wants to sit outside
and smoke
I have been on my porch
watching my plants
and the sun trot across the sky
hell I'll probably sit out here
well into the
night

They babble of shine
long lifed friendship
sharing shakes and
fries
But one mention of tires
and the babble
dries up and
dies

Sit back, relax, these cravings make this couch feel like rehab
out of reach of my stash, feel like I'm crashin' but I already crashed
been here since work an' I can't feel my feet, crap!
Sit up, and remember everything that you tried to keep from thinkin' of
your account, the amount, dropping like doves
in these times of war, no heroes just ******, nerdin' out on the game of life
trying step it up on the score boards, tryin' ta live like lords in this world
that has no law, why not be an outlaw, tough cuffed, straight jaw
dealin' out pain like a war god, Kratos, dime bags is small tomatos
when you could push yayo, one call to my man and I could get a crateful.
****** if I ain't a salesman, slanging nuns chewy doobies on the side, call me satan
and I'm the king of this world, it's hell, try escapin', I could have it
in the palm a' my hand if I made a move but then I gotta choose, play my luck
trust my ******* gut to keep from getting cut, like it's my only homie but he only knows
me cause I was pushing dro with the stonies.
I don't want a knife in my back, a run in with the feds or getting popped by the caps
tryin' ta dodge traps laid by cats that is jealous of my stacks,
I want a paradise where we all make racks, blast our music, blaze it fat, and all rap
sleep with both eyes closed, no need to watch our back,
too bad we were born in a world ruled by cash,
ain't never gonna have a globe like that...

20
seems like the end of the line
to me.
Car crashes, bad habits, white rabbits
will reduce me down to just a spec of debris
chillin' in a petri
                               magnified
                           by                   a giant
                        eye        st           aring
                             wi                 th
                                   disdain.
"Helicopter pilot? Yeah right"
hit me like the last thing through a bug's mind
when it splats.
                           Its own ***.
Switched my postion from
                                                s
              ­                                  t
                             ­                   r
                                                a
              ­                                  i
                             ­                   g
                                            ­    h
                                                t
A student

                                 p
to drop out flying u
Eyes down. Laying          to keep on track
                                  low
blinded, cataract, stepped out in traffic
                       splat
like that bug again
or maybe more like promotion
Brand New Adventure
                                                I've seen the way the world
                                                turns
     ­                                                      I don't want any p a r t

She told me
I reminded her of LSD.
I always changed her world
but it was guaranteed that
I would leave.

I feel air currents
in my muscular system,
heart revving like
twin jet engines.
Cloud flurries
breeze down axons
but my body is buried
under thousands of tons
of *****, dead presidents,
eternal residents
anchoring my bird-like
being.

I think
I'm a
coward

Posted in a dispensery
Coffee, magazine
"Politics of ****"
Dyed hair, smiles
hippie home
SC

Serotonin
Dopamine
Acetylcholine
             Religion failed
but drugs have
        saved
           me

I wrote a piece for class and had it critiqued, all about how
I can't remember Eddie's voice
and can't ask his parents for videos
to keep from digging up their pain.
Today I found a flash drive, one I can't place in mind. Popped it in, and tears leaked to my chin because there sat
video file after video file of Jake, Dennis, Eddie, and me on birthdays and outings, at the archery range. It's strange that the voices are young but I can hear him, I can hear him, I can remember

wake up with a hangover charm
not grumpy but maybe five yards from
being up beat
lazy strums on my old guitar
didn't bother with pants or
socks on my feet
only had the nerve to
brush the left half of my teeth
I make breakfast in my boxers
at a quarter past five
finally a touch of feeling alive
by still too wounded to go for a drive
stay inside sounds more like the ticket
stay awake too late with all of the crickets
take my pick, lick it and stick it
won't do the body no harm
have a goodnight beer
to give me another morning
of my hangover charm

God I love you
your truth and lies
I wish I could *******
looking in your inky I's

Yet alas, it's undoable
But I'll touch you
manipulate you
bite you

and even though you can be
cruel, you are my tool.
Please never ever ever
ever ever
leave me

a long brown hair
pulled from a coat pocket
must have been yours
laying in there like a mine
then a shorter but still long
red strand poked out of
the knot in a blanket
still yours, but more fake
later an almost black hair
came from inside my pillow case
it was hers, stirred emotions
just a little too late
finally a turquoise one
belonging to a friend
but the kind that ended up
naked in my bed
and left questions
do you miss me?
was it just to get frisky?
does it matter?

My comfiest sweater.
My most relaxing t-shirt.
That one cap, that belt.
These things I can't take back,
stolen from past loves
at the exact moment we began to cry.
I starve for the chance
to wash them in smoke,
douse them in beer
so these clothes are no longer theirs
but mine.

My hands have scars now
darkened splotches etched
in skin, flush against my eyes.
I got them but I don't know how,
because pain no longer sends
signals up my spinal chord.
My shoulder is tight from a
near death moped crash
not long past, but faded
like the lines on my thighs
or the blue of my eyes.
The only things left that are bright
and fresh are the
scars on my hands.

I always end up listening to
Red Red Wine
Wether I'm sober, ******,
or on acid
I think I've come to find
that when I sing along
I'm not speaking to wine at all
I'm speaking to the woman
who I am yet
to meet

Cap and tassel,
diploma,
freedom from academia.
A swift, ****** birth
as I'm shoved through to real life,
supposedly born grown,
a bright smile and a firm hand shake,
along with a list of accomplishments.
I have none, my resume made
completely of Diablo Rock Gym
and Chipotle.
Great.
Maybe I can still fail a class,
tell the professor I copied
my A paper, get expelled
and start all over!
Or fade away quick,
sink fast before anyone notices.
I'll slide into some forgotten swamp,
survive on worms,
and my own words,
                                    my own words,
             my            own                 wo,
my                   own            w
                                 my                      own
                                               my          ow
                   my
            m                                                   y
   m
               .

It's been awhile
since jasmine or
some soft, pastel
scent has graced
my senses
and the thawing
touch that
accompanies
things afore  
mentioned