Under the water,
the blackness spreads to my soul,
The lilies can't help.

That’s not accurate.
I don’t hate love.

I hate love poems.
And I hate myself
Because I keep on
Writing love poems.

I don’t want to.
I don’t try to.
But I still do.

But that doesn’t matter.
Not for this poem.
Is it a poem?
Stream of consciousness.

I hate love poems.
Predictable.
Cliche.
Worshipping.

Maybe that’s it.
The worship part.
That might be it.
I’m atheist you see.

But so often they,
Love poems,
Rely on description.
And they flop.

“Your eyes are the moon.
Full and bright.”
Give it a rest.
Don’t cop a bad description.
Especially when it’s overused.

Get some originality.
Don’t try to make us *****.
That’s not a good look
Even if you’re in love.

But I guess you aren’t me.
So you don’t have to listen.
But if you are,
Listening that is,
Please no.

If you’re gonna do it
Do it right.
Cause I bet you wouldn’t dare
To half *** your love effort.

Mango. A mango.
Mm, I love the taste.
There's nothing better than when the juice runs down my face.
Mango, sweet mango.
Better than baby ruth.
I love me some mango, to satisfy my sweet tooth.

Football > Uninvited guest
Shortbreads > ***
In-laws < Morning black coffee
Gossip < Nap
Ocean views > Idle chatter
Fried chicken > Fancy recipes
Salad forks < Finger food
Colorful autumn > Steamy June

Respiratory chambers inhale the frigid air
And distorts its inner peace
Visions flounder and loud noises
As the water carresses its surface

The water retracts yet the peace remained violated
Simultaneously being unexposed to the change

I exhale but frail air merely makes me meek
To the fumes of an alternate similarity

Call me a Tiger (a restless stud, I think)
I've got stripes around my shoulders, though
Connie Pommegan probably thought I had stripes everywhere
and I reminded him of drippy Fruit Stripe gum, I guess
and yeah my sergeant's stripes in ROTC
Come right now
like a tiger
like Tabien said
I guess I think I'm a tiger
literally (how dumb) with
Smokey the Bear thrown in
Tony the Tiger
roars.
This is probably a bore
Why a tiger
and a cartoon character -
I guess 'cause I think
I'm some sort of lovable
tomcat -
I don't know?
This poem went nowhere.

White Doves,
Fly out of her
Broken Heart..

your hair looks like dirt,
she said.
i laid in her lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, and for me
it was
i didnt love her.
i was never under the illusion of loving her, just
the idea
that maybe i could love her
that maybe she could love me

he walks around with her heart in a glass, doesnt even notice
when it rattles and threatens to
break