foggy images invade my sleep
I groggily creep into a new day
then fade, transparent, shade
flirting from bed to bus
bus to desk and back again
am I like the crew seen
by the Mariner in his Rime?
Has the flow of sublime powers
slipped like a frog to water
left me feeling, further and
further?

Seething in me
troubles aggravate
so irate
******* A
now I want nothing more
than to be no where at all
ditch this town
give the finger to Long Beach
be a ******* ***
under an over pass
the last stop on a bus
going abso-*******-lootly
no where

the staircase wails
at the weight
when I ascend
my feet boulders
blocking any pearly gate
the sheets rend
as I toss and turn
cigarette burns on my forearm
someone snipped the yarn
that kept me connected
I'm not sure I plan
to fix it

I feel like I repeat myself
over and over when I write
each poem becomes about
staying up at night
wondering about my lack
of friends and my
heading toward a dead end
but I really can't understand
why I've lived here for three months
and have met no one
besides my two roommates
No one relates or sees that
I'm good company
and it's not like I don't try
I do, I sit next to people and
try and get to know them
I smile, I joke
I be me
but I'm so, so
lonely
it's suffocating
it's heart breaking
it's devastating
when I can't pick up my phone
and call someone to just
kick it
I used to think that
I had to learn to like being alone
I did
now alone time is all I get
what the ****
what the ****
what the ****
what the ****
what
the
****

Loneliness rests in my chest
garbed in drab grey
breathing salt water into my blood

In an hour and quarter
I'll be officially older than you

I miss all my old friends

I'm a wreck
it feels so real
in a facade
It's like breathing underwater

Tonight I hope to dream
of riding fog
out to the sea
where the waves will
greet me
swell up
accept me to the deep

been alone a lot lately
no new friends to keep me company
maybe when school starts
I'll open up and touch a few hearts
but right now it's just me,
my mind, and my body
which I'm working on every day
you know what they say
look good, feel good
burning calories like fire wood
sweating out toxins like
I know I should

Bukowski gets me
ham on rye with a little bit
of wanting to be nothing
cheap wine in a trashed hotel
a permanent spell on my
self control
all this time I thought I loved me
but I'm sinking
everything I write is a repeat
**** my novel dreams
**** my poetic schemes
I think it's time to sleep
for about five years
so I can wake up with no fears
and disappear
like each season

hacking coughs rack my body
forcing sleep to evade me
just give me some loving company
please
please
please

i just want to write
pour out this feeling in my gut
I can't keep it stomached
but a good line
I can't seem to make up

one of my roommates
is very similar to a mom
except he doesn't nag to help
he bags when things aren't his way
I gotta say
it annoys the **** out of me
like, he lives with two other people
it requires bending
compromising
learning
not constant complaining
or telling me how to do dishes
despite the fact that I never leave
dishes in the sink
(It's him and the other guy)
plus I worked in a restraunt
I've done a thousand dishes
and I do them better
ugh
I'm just hung over
and complaining
but ******* A
let me be

I'm a wreck
I'm ******
I stare in the mirror wishing it was
a truck
I want the headlights
in my blue eyes
I want to sleep with her
in my arms tonight
******* it this *****
I'm friendless here
I'm drunk here
I'm faded and jaded
misplaced and disgraced
I want a fresh start
I want a new brain
With less thoughts and feelings
less staring at the ceiling
Lately all I can imagine is Eddie
and Ryan and Alyssa
she hung herself
Ryan ODed
Eddie in a car crash
Grandpa Jerry in surgery
Grandma Cherry in her sleep
Grandpa Con soon after Eddie's retreat
Come on Death, give me a break
or give me a grave
or give me another beer
so I can disappear

The barking dog, disappearing, driving,
ashes, Eddie, Jake,
divorce, holes in souls, constellations,
I don't know, I am Arturo Bandini,
I am the sweatshirt that hugged her arms,
Stolen sweatshirt, smokey sweatshirt,
apologies, broken necklace,
whatever

I got to PolySci
a little too high
dark glasses over eyes
even though eye drops
were applied
I tried to reach out
find a friend, maybe two
but nothing came
who knew that the
"You'll make friends quickly" Dan
would fail so miserably
now it's "back of the bus music up"
Dan
who plays guitar four hours a day
and doesn't even care where his phone
is because no one here
will text me
anyway

I drove today, down black and yellow
snakes, houses lined the banks
of the concrete river the snake
slithered into,
children played and parents watched,
I was revving and gunning and lost,
not on the streets, in sheets that smelled like someone
far behind me, in eye water and lilacs,
or two lips,
Then I parked the car,
shut the door,
and fell to a puddle on my
bedroom floor,
I am great, I am hollow,
I am wretched, I am hollow,
Let me evaporate
Let me evaporate,
please,
Let me evaporate

on the cusp of being Vegas bound
with a car full of old friends, howling like hounds
yet somehow it hangs heavy on my heart
as if this is the last time that things will feel
almost like the used to back in highschool
and ever after the sounds of our laughter
will fade further and further
as we drift apart
like leaves resting
on water

Roused from sleep by the sound of sobbing,
I reached out for my sweet,
wondering over the wetness in her eyes.
Her cries filled the dark room
as she shook.
"His face, his face," she mutters into her hands.
That crook, that fiend,
that stain on society.
He is unconcerned, free, happy,
while she has terrors, anxiety.
I want to tell her that one day
he will get what's comin' to him,
that, inside, he knows he is ****,
that he will suffer in some way.
maybe today, maybe tomorrow,
maybe next year,

But then, my heart crumples in fear,
because there is no guarantee.
Instead I mumble.
"If we see him,
I will punch him in the face."
Violence with violence,
is there any other way?

Fine sand grains coat my toes
as pure, crystal waves break,
playful, ancient, against the shore.

The swaying plink of reggae guitar
bounces over the sand,
lulling a laze in my core
then emanates out across the beach,
past the break,
and out to sea.

Drift wood fences
protected the garden
complete with iron gate
and a little man
whose whole life is to wait.
The frame, sleeping against
the fence
has an empty mind
much like mine
kept safe with ivory fences
and organic gates
envious of the Waiter
who gets to stay here forever
and
                            wait...

It hangs from my shoulders,
not torturous, but not forgiving,
my camping chair groans
under our combined weight
in the evening,
quite the opposite of merriment
it is never fleeting
a constant cloak
partially soaked with choked words,
a strikingly dissonant chord
accompanied by a melody
"It's high time to hit the road again
it's high time you leave."

My heart is a watering can
with patched up holes.
There is rust around its edges
but it's full to the brim.
I've poured it out
over dry dirt;
nothing ever sprouted
save a few shoots that soon shriveled.
I refilled it each time, trying a new.
Finally, I've tipped it,
sprinkling over my love for you,
and to my deepest delight
a garden grew.

this last week
has me toasted and beat
sweatpants, same **** sweat shirt,
untied shoes on my feet
I dreaded every time I had go out
and cried with joy
each time I was back
in my
sheets

The wind howled after the divorce,
debris flew about in hordes
and I simply couldn't hold my myself in place.
Sure, I learned to navigate treacherous terrain
with sure-footed grace,
Everyone around weathered the winds
with the same style, same half smile,
all saying, "It will just be just a little longer."
Years after I'd given up, become numb to the rain,
you walked by with an umbrella,
on your way somewhere, seeking more permanent shelter.
You stopped and offered for me to join you
under the umbrella's cover,
even though it was a tight squeeze for two.
Gentle, powerful, miniscule, monumentous,
I love you.

A rocky, wavy buffet
served out on the water today.
Waiting on the whales,
but their hiding,
or sleeping,
or swimming away.
In the misty distance waits Diamond Head,
looking out on us,
unassuming.
Take a dive
in the Hawaii ocean.

I should see a foot doctor.
My knees ache,
and it ain't like I've been
standing up for myself too much
or sitting down too long.
But they sing their song of pain
again, and again, and again.

I don't pen anything anymore,
maybe a jot there or a line here,
so am I a writer?
How long does it take a "while"
to become a "used to"?
I'm no Du Fu.
I'm no Li Bai.
I should say goodbye,
smile and wave as writing
passes me by.

Numb nostrils,
jittery tongues,
swarming the cutting board.
Sharks, whose blood lust
shot off the charts
with the sight of one little baggie,
gnash their teeth
"Pour it out! Line it up!"
"Here's yours!"
"I can't feel my teeth!"
all caught on the reef
thrashing for another dose.
Who am I to judge with this
white gold
in my nose.

It's all about that
                                                                ­               Whump!
It shakes the chest so
hard you can't catch your
                                                            ­                    Whump!
breath
Yup, that's it I flew the nest
                                                            ­                    Whump!
Making my own plans but
I can't pull away from that
                                                            ­                    Whump!
I'm an alien on a spaceship
charging up that engine
                                                          ­                      Whump!
Steering straight toward that sound like
                                                            ­                    Whump!
I hunger for that sub noise
rumbling, I'm addicted to that
                                                            ­                     Whump!