If my memory could disintegrate to ash speckles
Expect that a dazzling fire would be set ablaze to the flora of my mind
I'd scatter and pinch the black bits in the nectar of flowers
Watching unsuspecting bees take them away into the spring air
So when others are stung by pesky wasps and buzzing yellow-jackets
Their wounds will swell red with your name
A passing boy will wear your welt while I run on this sunny day
And as I attempt to read it, I'll have unknown gratuity that I can't process it's significance

All life is
Is a nonchalant death trap.

A cigarette after ***
  gets old
when it's the only thing
  burning
in your world.

When Netflix feels like
  family,
you wonder where
  everyone went.

******* feels like
  a cry for help--
So help you God.

Missing your home
  is second
to missing who
  you once were.

Eastern philosophy,
Karl Marx, Rawls--
We don't know
  any ******* thing,
really.

Pretending to be more.
Pretending to be smarter
than we really are.

May holes in our sides
let others see
that we're beating, too--
just not as ferociously
or as honestly.

May we vanish
into the darkness
that best suits us.

If the light is our night,
may we follow it.
Follow it...
Follow it...
Rebel from our frame.

May God grant us
to be more
than losers.

Pictures of dead people I know
are smiling and are so full of life
hanging on my wall
reminding me
to seize this day,
because it's not cliche,
and it won't come again.