Should I be good?
I know I should
but at the same time
these people wade through nightmares like babies
and they can't handles the red and black of this world
doors opening on scenes of horror
but it's what we are used to
the endless sound of knuckles on cheek bones
the sound of fist meeting flesh
violence, danger, rage
we're all hooked on a non familial story
and we eat it up like fish eat bait.
all I'm saying is once the sun descends
carry a tight visage of toughness with you
because once the night time creatures come out to play,
you're never safe

have you ever given your life to the ethereal?
shapes and faces forming in the night time hours
you don't know their names
nor their stories
but you know they are people who make you feel good
their stories level out the chaos of yours
they are from far away places
they are the people with far away problems
that make yours seem so finite
they dance beneath the glowing full moon
they dance until their bodies tire desperately
they say your name like a holy entity
they breathe out the sighs you breathe out in pain
they text you in the dead hours
hey, how're ya doin?
and you reply
better now
and that is all there is to it
to the choreographed dance of humanity

so there's a girl
***** her name
that matters to me,
but not you
she's my best friend's girl
but she's great
we click just like how I can't snap
She's a good chick
and I never say chick
but she's cool
she makes him happier
but she makes me happier

when it becomes more about
how ****** up can we get
how far away from sober can we fall or rise
when the see saw always has the neighborhood fat kid sitting at the other end
then it might be time to evaluate your life
but,
then again,
there's still a half case of PBR in the fridge
and marijuana's hiding behind every single corner
exciting until it gets too boring
then you can always search for that gateway they prattled on about so much in health class
walking down a straight edge only leaves you with ****** feet
and you need those suckers for running,
right?

High school was a breeze
I mean forget the braces years
and the glasses and the acne and the bone crushing awkwardness
it was a breeze
rolling around in Mark's beat up VW hippie van
Smoke trailing behind us as we tore through suburban Richmond
worrying about Mom 'n Pop's more than the DEA and Cops
and finding empty houses to drink what we thought was good alcohol
if no houses were available
we'd just wait for the parentals to fall asleep
singing pop punk at the top of every lung
rapping along to gangster rap
hopelessly Caucasian
class was a joke
homework a no go
and we'd worry about the consequences later
talking about how we couldn't wait to be grown
well I'm growing now
and I can tell you
no bed time is awesome
but it isn't all it's always cracked up to be

I know that the ego is dangerous
everybody sends out warnings for me to **** it
but **** it man, I love that side of me
the side that needs validation from drunk strangers
who take me to their home in the early hours of whatever day it is
or the laughter from a good joke at work
likes and views and comments on these poems
yeah ego is dangerous
but I'll be ****** if it isn't fun

Got a job waiting tables
put the two weeks in at the car wash
tomorrow's my day off
It's November,
but the sun still thinks it's September
filtering through the dead leaves on bare limbs the color of nostalgia
at a cool seventy degrees
a last hurrah for sundresses and short shorts
fine by me
I'm writing a poem by my open window
letting the dusty, smoky room breathe for once
sure, things could be better
but they sure as hell could be worse