a ruby motive.
pruriently evolving,
to a lotus tree.

I've never liked role models.
I don't like people,
or those who tell me how to be,
or what to do.
Honestly, I'm me,
not you.
"Be a role model, you've got to!"
So I set myself as an example,
of what not to do.
Found myself becoming,
a goal that you shouldn't pursue.
Tattoos,
torn shoes,
and a couple loose screws.
I might not be much to aspire to,
but I don't regret it,
there's nothing I'd undo.

Don't let me go,
I need you to burden me.
Those memories no longer grow.
I needed your roots to feed me, too.
I hid behind every one of your regrets,
So you never said you hated me, but I do.

Dipping beneath a dismal horizon,
The moon slowly deserts the night,

Giving way to the scarlet rays of daybreak,
Blood-like light soaks the dawn sky,
Forebodingly warning of sunrise.

time to waste,
a heart to beat.

a god defaced,
now obsolete.

a faith erased,
believed deceit.

as is death without grace,
to pray is to accept defeat.

Damp aromas arise from the ground.
The morning is almost here.
Smells of fog and drizzling days wasting away,
The dawn is almost here.

Crying skies give birth to a moody guise,
Where melancholy dies, giving in to prying eyes.
It's about time for sunrise,
But through the murky skies, no sun rays shine.

centuries
rhododendrons
smattering
reflection upon a carousel
niacin and restlessness
unsated
should've breakfasted.

I haven't written a poem all day,
That fact makes me a little sad.
Sometimes, I have less to say,
And I guess that isn't all that bad.

I'm stricken with poet's block,
My heart is sickened with a lack of love.
I can't find anyone, with whom to talk,
And that loneliness is helpful, sort of.

-------------------
your sweet, lips,
forming into sick,
kiss.
your brown eyes insist,
on swallowing me into
your abyss.
this,
bliss
is purely just a glitch
surely can't exist,
but it sorely will be missed.
i know, this:
we clearly can't coexist,
no matter how much we resist
no matter how much we wish,
this rift,
just can't be dismissed.
it's not a simple slip
that can easily be fixed,
it's a partnership apocalypse.
we're living in a counterfeit relationship.

you'll try to talk again.
so i can forgive,
and forget, every word you said.

so we can die,
comfortably,
in the crawlspace in my head.

i can't help but think
that you were my missing puzzle piece
nothing lasts, i'll stop to drink
as i wash the blood
from my bathroom sink

i can't help but dream
every night, about some kind of love
drowning in red mud
choking on words once mumbled

i can't help but wish
that i never happened
to you
or you to me
so tonight i'll drink, dream,
rinse, repeat

until my memories lapse
as i collapse, shimmer and sheen
in a tiled room, never dimmer
than within my dreams

I wonder,
What it's like,
To fly.

I tried too hard,
You were often,
Too shy.

And then,
When we met,
I got by.

Even now,
When we part,
I partly die.

I now regret,
The final time,
We said goodbye.

Painted poetry,
All along the hallways.
Hidden in ingenuity,
Your ideas wasted away,
Living in me, almost lucidly.

In my heart I often find,
Sleepless nights and,
Seedless flowers,
Cloudy skies and,
Memories that were ours.

Through this looking glass, opting out,
From this windowed hole, I hope this makes you less sad.
We'll both grow older, as many tend to do,
And move separate ways with thoughts never leaving,
Forever bitter, never regretting, never bitter, never.

I've never wanted to leave.
I've never wanted to come back.
I've never waited to stay here.

You've never wanted to stay.
You've always wanted to come home.
You've always waited to leave, though.

I read a lot of poetry,
and there's a someone,
who's always written about.
Her name is "she",
but who could she be?

Who's she?
She's not a he,
she's definitely not me.
There's hundreds, thousands of poems,
about her, how special could she possibly be?

I wonder what she's like,
do you think she'd like it?
The way that my hair curls on the sides?
Maybe she's beautiful,
or maybe just has a sharp wit?

I wonder if she knows how to ride a bike,
or if she could cook pancakes better than I can (somehow)
Truly, I really wonder what she's like.

he's human.
he's not sane or emotionless.
he's stupid,
and his jokes are hit or miss.
he used to be foolish,
but then he finally found a friend.
she wasn't poetic or aware,
and she smelled of fake confidence.
they mostly got along,
even after bad arguments.
but she was still foolish.,
and thought she could outrun the truth.
and if it wasn't for his truthfulness,
they might've even fallen in love.
but that story is just an overdue eulogy,
of all things that could,
but shouldn't be.

I seem to be overrun with myself.
My thoughts bubble over,
As boiling water from of a ***.
Feelings and phrases bounce about,
Between the walls of my head.
I cannot help but seek an escape,
From lowly emotions,
That make my heart feel dead.

buy yourself a new lie,
you know it's cheap.
bring me to the graveyard
please, don't forget to weep.
then take my heart.
it's yours to keep.

The night sky,
Never fades to black,
As many think their souls do,
It just fades to a darker shade of bright blue.

flaunting verbiage,
with a monkish tint,
hungry and spent.
a mild breath scent, emanating herb and taciturnity.
trundling forthward, draped in a certain verdancy,
certainly burdened with this flirtatiously unhinged uncertainty.
no longer careening, bundling kindling,
suffering kinship, indexing my woolgathering,
to begin the inner mending, expenditure now dwindling.
ontologically building, a great garden in sentience, ascending,
extentless, heaven, now, then, ever present.

Spotted glints,
of lost luster,
in sealed oyster.
Still I obeyed the tape.
Navigating devoid of footholds,
simply stepped to the next petal, and strode.
Sundered squeaks, creaky hinges, floorboards, still,
there are inklings every other instant.
Uncertain of furls in the sail, wrent the rotten rudder from the stern.
Still there are tints in the stitching,
at the fringes. They billow.
The thievery was unintended.

feel the teeth sink in,
rip word from bone,
crush heart and tear through skin.

put down the phone.

let the words sink in.
narrow down the voices in your head,
force yourself to feel alone.

don't let the pain show.

put pen to paper,
let your mind pour out,
from word to world.

inhale-
1 2 3 4

open the back door,
smell the dying plum blossoms.
take a few steps, or try to.

exhale-
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

gaze up at the sky.
do the clouds still look red?
no, but that one looks like a wishbone.

keep walking.

smile at the single dad,
he could use it, you know it.
plus his nirvana t-shirt is pretty rad.

keep smiling.

falling leaves make little ripples,
in the puddles in the road gully.
overcast days always make for the best reflections.

-
this shouldn't need to be routine.

do you remember when you lost it?
when you would take me hostage?
when you turned caustic?
you used my presence as your very own mental whetstone.
you called yourself psychotic,
called our words cautious, hypnotic,
but they were toxic.
they were exhaustive.
talks of the atlantic,
and how i'd cross it.
"don't worry, my flight stops in austin,
and then again in boston, i promise.
honest, i'll even book in august."
but then we tossed it,
there was a line,
and you crossed it.
sometimes you got so reckless, so hostile,
that i felt like your chaperone.
we both had to learn how to grow,
living in time zones of our own.
the air turned cold,
when we let our emotions show.
but i was lonely too,
so at least you weren't alone.
you acted as my bright summer sun,
setting my world aglow.
but every time you said hello,
i remembered how much i missed the snow.

With every piece of toast,
comes the death of bread.

Sad, half-jazz songs.
Smokey table views.
Dimly lit cantering, cigars lit,
Softly droning drums,
Rhythmic, longing-filled voices,
And a silently humming pianist.
All, hard at sloth, least at work.

Take this,
Read that,
Eat this,
Buy that,

Orders issued,
Traps laid,
Information seeded,
Robots made,

Clean you up,
Hold you back,
Dull you down,
Here's another Prozac.

Sit back down,
Wait until dismissed.
Don't worry, don't think,
Ignorance is bliss.

"Cry my a river,"
Whenever you would cry.
Drove out of town,
To drown in that river,
But it ran dry.
So I drove back, singing,
"This won't be that the day that I die."

we laughed together,
like two birds sharing the same feather.
what a tragedy, majesty displayed,
every time we flew, never in fair weather.

maybe you wanted it,
maybe you didn't;
to split.
i tried to keep my hopes hidden,
for a thoughtful misfit,
and a dancer from britain,
to just admit it.
but it seemed so forbidden.
and now they're both sad hypocrites,
so it's been coincidentally omitted.
so i'm done with it,
for the sake of the ransacked
musings on stagnation,
the hex-codes,
and the hopes of damnation.
the things i miss most,
are simply our conversations.
~

I messed up.
I wasted days away, never letting you be.
I never did this, or that, I was never that, or this.
I keep trying to figure it out.
I keep making excuses, I don't know what happened.
I'm trying to figure it out.
Too much distance, never enough for you.
I keep regretting, but nevertheless it was nothing to you.
Never too real, never too serious.
You never truly answered, never not being mysterious.
I write poems to cope, I draw pictures to remember.
From you I lost all my hope, never bitter.
I was never bitter, always despairing.
I was never this, or that. Why, however, is what I wonder.
I'm trying to figure it out.

woke up ill,
almost hope it's terminal.
that's probably a sign.
find the bathroom door,
rummage through the messy medicine drawer,
there's four blue, but only one white pill more,
no luck this time, i need a refill.
i'll head to the store.
the walk's uphill.
typical.

Four figure eights,
Only on the edge, never straight,
Slowly swimming into madness,
Calmly chaotic, never sedate.
Frantic fingers, fumbling for a fix,
For without it, we're ever anxious

when the worst gets the best of me,
the rest of me gets better first.

a pack a day.
feel yourself waste away,
let your teeth decay,
so you can put your addiction on display.

i'm getting tired of it.
not in an angry way,
it's just taxing,
to do this one-sided back and forth.

hope i die.
wish i might,
pass to soul,
and move to light.
toss my heart,
please don't cry.
don't give up on me,
before tonight.

I'm cutting my hands to bone,
Trying to pick them up,
Shattered memories of heart,
That I never wore upon my sleeve.
Quick, painful glances,
No longer longing stares, stealing.
Lost words, shared thoughts and,
Differing views of past futures,
All coiled into a cold noose,
By which I'll enter your world.

anomalous, employing confidence despite artlessness,
effortlessly emending residual callowness.
seldom forgetting to find the time and peace of mind
to wield my puerilism as a social chisel,
avoiding parergies, attempting to carve out a balance
in between conscious frivolity and daily drivel.

Soldiers stand, corralled like sheep,
Peaceful times turn to violence,
Even at night I cannot sleep,
And in this time there is no silence.

Roll the dice, do it twice,
The rules of paradise are never nice.

-
sometimes i get tired of working,
i'd like to be more free.
not spilling paint,
dotting i's or crossing t's.
so i take a walk, make some tea,
stretch my knees and try to breathe.
-
the warmth of this unsteady breeze,
puts me at ease, it could put me to sleep.
i feel at home among these sad, sleeping trees.
i wonder what gets them down,
or maybe they're just having bad dreams.

dear weeping willows,
of what do you dream?
a cold night of lonely moonbeams,
or of dead tiger lilies floating downstream?
i hope you're happier than you seem.
dear dreaming willows,
why do you weep?

time flies by,
when the night sky,
shines so bright,
that my mind's eye goes blind.
i've had far too much wine.

why write,
why lie,
during the depths of nighttime,
when it's always dry,
always read by brown eyes,
under morning skies.