Drugs that will keep you awake
or make you sleep tight,
drugs that will give you
a ******* all night,
drugs that will open the doors
to illusion,
drugs for confusion.

Happy?
take drugs
Sad?
take drugs.

Let's give a big cheer for
the chemical freer.

Drugs that will bind you,
drugs that will blind you
drugs that you find in the
back of the drawer.

For future reference
my drug of preference
is you.

you know what,
at one point
he probably did
love you back
but he was just
a boy
lacking courage,
inferior to pride,
silent of words,
and
stagnant with change,
both too afraid
to embark on opportunity,
to embrace life.
so life flew by
and together you died
while alone
you lived.

i.
every night
before i sleep
i pray that tomorrow’s forecast
will be cloudy.
you know,
when the sky is a clear blue
it’s most painful for me
because it reminds me
too much of your eyes

ii.
our love was not illicit
but you sure as hell made it feel that way
when you touched me like i was paraphernalia
and not person

iii.
i’m beginning to think
that i was some sort of mental illness
in your mind
because you never mentioned me
to other people

iv.
you know that feeling
when you can't remember
if something actually happened
or you just dreamed it?
that's what it felt like
the first time you said you loved me

v.
when you promised me the world
i shouldn’t have expected anything more
than a miniature globe

vi.
math always told me
that two negatives
make a positive
but i think
the two of us
may have proved
that theory wrong

vii.
i hope the sky
is not as clearly blue
as i am tomorrow

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

do not
forget the
boy who
broke your
heart too
quickly
because
like an
eraser
rubbing
out a
spelling
mistake
in haste
it will
leave
a stain
so grey
another
boy
won't
ever
take his
place.

Her hair spills across her shoulders,
Her eyes fry my brain,
Her skin is porcelain, snow white and spotless.

Her moans are soft,
Her cries are saintly,
She writhes beneath me, hot breath like flame.

She says my name,
Now I'm 17 again,
She's copying my science paper again for finals.

It's been 10 years since then,
I've been thinking about her ever since,
I see her at Starbucks and my heart bursts.

We met at a bar,
I recognized her and she pretends that she doesn't know me,
It's only after she finds out about my divorce that she remembers who I am.

The drinks go to my head,
I tell her that I work at the local bank, she tells me that she's between jobs,
She asks to sleep on my couch.

This is all of my high school fantasies,
She is everything I need her to be,
I've never been happier.

She's gone when I wake up,
The money has disappeared from the table,
I had only paid for the night.

All
            my old scars have faded away, requiring a prolonged glance
            to distinguish the results of my past anguishes.
            My weapon of choice unavailable, I sidle into the kitchen
            and looked for a suitable substitute.
I
            sit on the floor, tracing over the places I
know
            they hide with the tip of a knife held gently in my hands.
            My mind sputters along slowly, trying to engage my heart.
            But once I’ve reached the point of seeking
pain
            directed outward, my emotions have dissipated,
            and my personality flat-lines.