A false hope
of belonging

shaded by disappointed lectures
by an idolized puppeteer of authority

shameless
we toss our ideals on the roots below
to gain one free moment
from thought

look back on that body
think of the grunting
sweating
pouring ink onto pillows
secreting through stretched pores
letting the dreamer sleep,
and the others dream
on these brightest nights

no more possessive pronouns
no one wonders
like we used to
no greater power is knocking

we're convicts of our own convictions

a paradox
air gets hard to swallow
hide under your quilt
of disdain and guilt

keep me afloat
but never show me how

a sexed up nighttime walker
click clack
down empty streets
full to the brim
with disgusting dreams

I photograph the secrets of the city
stealing your fondest darkness
and publishing the shameful lust
for them all to see
the vultures
hunting with talons of words so sharp
teeth bared, dripping ink
onto the forehead of the dreamer

toss turning on rough,
pure, delinquent ambition
what you taste after years
of restless sleep

I've ignored endless regrets
but not one about opening a ming
brilliantly high
choose a new poison
and slip into a sense of entitlement.

Bruised hips and lips
dragging themselves desperately
endless sensual friction
*******
smacking
crude, raw

stay true
to the muse of our generation
we were never taught
to share what we're given
precious garbage
spewed out of consumation
a spiral of artistic fury
the scratch of losing your voice
the voice that once
harmonized with lies

washed out external flame
burn bridges you've never crossed
for fear of humiliation
embers branding sin
into skin

slick like sticky fingers
groping bodies for a grip
to pull yourselves out
of the hell
called introspection

you are a moonlit chaotic mind
on the roots
forming roads to that which we lost

I've held my muse
kissed the lips that mumble
my melodic lullaby

you just don't grasp
I can't get it through your skull
but I'm not even allowed to be angry

frustration
deliberation

**** your indecisive mind
and your lack of opinion
the way you ***** me over
just because you forget that I'm fragile

but I'm not even allowed to be mad

I can't even scream

so I'm left with all this pent up hell
and the sweetest kiss on the cheek

My fingers tremble
unable to keep them still
I attempt to create something

a second glance

maybe a reason to smile

they trace your perfect shape
your hills and valleys
the dips of your spine
raising your nerves

and on my neck
I feel the warmth of your breath
calming mine

its almost as if
this moment
could carry on
infinite

my fingers dance gently
down your back
barely making contact
but still we touch

like if I can
outline your entire being
and capture this moment

maybe then you'll stay

forever

like we were too scared to say

I bring my fingers to your lips
and below your jaw
and I see the reflection of my dreams in your eyes

I promise
promise

promise

that we can be
infinite

narcissistic thought
introspective questions
philosophy
and solid facts

please get out of my head
I'd honestly rather be dead
or at least sleeping
than searching my soul
or creating some ******* identity

this isn't a poem
you've been fooled
this is a comatose rant

this is cigarette ashes
blowing in the air
it smells like **** and gasoline

this is the scratch of a strangers beard
and his alcoholic breath
and his secrets that he's drinking away

this is failure at the end of a movie
this is disappointment
without a hiccough of glorious relief

only empty
yet overflowing
words
strung together with teenage angst
and a yearning for someone
to tell me that I'm not the only one
who sees this world
this frail sense of humanity

this is uncomfortable, sweaty bedsheets
this is tossing and turning
this is sleep with no rest

this is a stubbed toe after a breakup
this is my grey matter
attempting to produce something worth typing
and failing

but I'm too stubborn to give up.
I'm sorry.

lean your heavy head
on the rough, cool brick
like an unknown mother's breast
tired lungs with your habitual breath
an invisible history
you've become a shadow
in busy streets

feel the complexity
of tired lover's steps
on this worn down
moonlit street

from the shadows you glance
at the click clack noise
and the creature connected
to those hurried feet

she looks up at your movement
startled and tense
eyes full of fear

what does she expect?
(not kindness)

if only she knew
it was all you had left to offer.