shirtless and drinking my six dollar sangria from a measuring cup.
never has the formula been so close to be solved. the exact moment when we can say we have made it.

twenty four onces in and my neighbor seems to be a little put off.
this same man comes outside once a day to ask me about college without even putting pants over his underwear so tonight I figure indifference is key.

Summer is a gross mess, even when your doing nothing you find yourself pouring sweat through your white button ups, you looked fine leaving and now that your here doing your best to sound interesting to girl at the bookstore you just look slightly sadder and fatter than before.

thirty six ounces and red teeth tell me that we have made it.

Why does it seem that men are scared of intelligent women.
of course this is a generalization.
She was going to work in the private sector, or maybe in state politics.
she was five two and everyone of those sixty two inches were gorgeous, she grew up dangerously close to the plaza and to Brookside and to all the quaint coffee houses and local eateries. men much more beautiful than myself had spent a pretty dollar showing her a good Saturday night.

I am sure the dinner was just as exciting as the movie, but antiquated action films and overpriced Italian food makes me uneasy. always will.

our hill was perfect and her dress moved in every way in which I pictured it would. I moved frail bits of hair away from her cheek and I kissed her mid sentence, we made moderately decent love and she left a blanket in my backseat.  

Poor plaza boys can never seem to keep their books out of the red.

I have myself a interest in smooth edges, subtle features.
she wore a dress.
I lost my self in monday mixers and beautiful creatures.
I couldnt find my keys.
she loved my work, poets could make the best teachers.


we kissed outside of a bar beside a man much older.
his smoke in her face
beer makes the night warm and her body much colder.
share my desire to die slow.
I couldnt let go of my girlfriend but she still wanted space for me to holder.

my mistake,

Most love poems bore me, mostly in the same way as nature photography and pictures of my latte art does.
being hipster bores me, you cant get by these days with a side buzz and a fascination with the theremin with out getting yourself lumped in.
this all coming from the same girl that is wearing white converse with the classic red stripe right below her yoga's,
at least her boyfriend with the Eric Hosmer hair cut seems nice.  

anyways, I probably should not be so cruel. we all get hurt from time to time, I just wish there were more original was to express it.

I really cant say what it is about these girls that get me so indifferent.
maybe it is their presence. I am well to understand how ****** that is.
You would have to understand the mind of a long standing womanizer that never had the luck of women.
now, grown and accepted I do not find myself caring nearly as much as one would think.
the lovely blonde from forty minutes away spent the night last week but I couldnt recall the day and still have yet to find a way to accept that I have gotten this far without knowing her last name.
How is this the future that I had envisioned in school, wanting love from a lovely person just to push lovely people away once they showed themselves.
I guess there is not much to complain about, wine is six dollars a gallon and lee summit is only forty minutes away.

I remember when I was much better then I currently am.
Last summer was I opened up, let my self be taken from without feeling like I had lost much, to this day i would still say not much from that summer is missing.

She and the winter kicked my ***. There is reasons why people break, lose trust and forget to love.
You can’t always bounce back the same.
I remember when I wanted to be how I was in the winter.
This summer was supposed to open up to me. She would lay in my bed looking up at me. Good god how she was so pretty.
Parts of her were almost unrecognizable to me. She had fire in her eyes before me and I couldn’t look back with the same passion.
Instead I looked at the wall.
I remember when I used to be much better than I currently am.
I couldn’t please her or myself. I couldn’t find anytime to which it matters but she and several others were still there.
I looked at the water days before thinking how I didn’t have time for another person, and in the next hour I had sent for messages asking for some space in my queen sized.
Broken pieces cannot be fixed by other broken pieces and we cannot pretend that broken pieces are meant to carry out time like they are fixed.
The time never seems to go by fast enough,
I look forward to the day when I can remember who I was and accept what I have become.

I made my retreat back to the bedroom where she had been laying. Naked and on her side, her eyes saying some cool and provocative phrase. This did not happen to often so I could say I was a little taken back. After we had made love I layed naked on my side feeling I had made the wrong choice. I should have grabbed the letter that I was headed back for originally, layed it on her counter and walked out. She was trying to save the dying and I had written a letter of sympathy. The letter reads much colder now that she is on the deathbed.