hey buddy did u know that under a powerful microscope a wood chip resembles our universe just let that sink in

we are so small we are so fricking small ok u hav to make yrself known or else u'll forever be nothing but a tiny floating speck

is that what u want to be for the rest of yr life??? a **** fricking speck no i dont think so

thats some horton hears a who type **** ok thats not ok

u know what else

no matter how known u make yrself u will always be just a tiny little speck but hey u know what

some specks can be bigger than other specks and this is not always physical

sometimes the traces u leave behind are bigger than u will ever be

so make a **** impact

voice yr stupid dumb beautiful opinions and voice them loud

be the tiniest speck and climb up as high as u can get and fricking shout at the top of ur little speck lungs

we are here were r here we r here and all that good jazz u kno

did i just write a poem about horton hears a who *******

shoutout to dr. suess for being a radass motherhecker thats some deep crap right there ****

I've come by, she says, to tell you
that this is it. I'm not kidding, it's
over. this is it.
I sit on the couch watching her arrange
her long red hair before my bedroom
mirror.
she pulls her hair up and
piles it on top of her head-
she lets her eyes look at
my eyes-
then she drops her hair and
lets it fall down in front of her face.
we go to bed and I hold her
speechlessly from the back
my arm around her neck
I touch her wrists and hands
feel up to
her elbows
no further.
she gets up.
this is it, she says,
this will do. well,
I'm going.
I get up and walk her
to the door
just as she leaves
she says,
I want you to buy me
some high-heeled shoes
with tall thin spikes,
black high-heeled shoes.
no, I want them
red.
I watch her walk down the cement walk
under the trees
she walks all right and
as the pointsettas drip in the sun
I close the door.

after the alcohol
rots our insides and
the morning sunrise
stings our eyes and
the fact that we didn't die
today, after all of that, there's still
smiles to see and
similies to say and
hope that the weather'll change and
the gusty wind won't blow our thoughts away.

well anyway.

i had a dream we were holding hands in a blockbuster video store.

everything was made of wood.

i had a dream we drove across country
and stopped at a bridge to stare at the sky.

your hair was brown. your hair was draped over the passenger seat.

you held my hand again like you meant it.

i was a window for your fingers.

i was something else while you pointed at an airplane
and stretched your body to it.

you thought you’d never get so far.

i hung out in a mall parking lot while you became the stars.

when i woke up the longing still wasn’t gone.

today is the first page of a blank 365 page book. you hold the pen-- it's yours. make it good.

I could write you poems with flowery language and fancy words
Or I could write you a song
But no amount of words can possibly describe how I feel about you
It's really vague and I'm very unsure
And a spark can turn into a flame which would most probably end in a catastrophe
That is why I choose to ignore the electrical signals transmitting in my neurones
I choose to ignore the feelings you're making me feel