We popped ourselves up to the ideas of pop culture
and adopted the looks of orphans
spray paint and swear words
too loud overcrowded mischief
the misgivings of being too young
children throwing tantrums over ice cream
calendars fell and the montage ended
we were flung across the globe as dandelion seeds
weeds to be weeded
I was playing tight rope on the fence
and fell on the side with no safety net
skinned knees and black eyes
the stoners the dropouts the thugs and **** ups
***** and *******
******* and *******
these were just words
deactivated model replicas pointed at the head
college student with a chip on the shoulder
and the one they called the jester
and the one they called the king
with return addresses tattooed on arms
the awake became the living dream
no time for nights of nightmares
enough scare to go around
pack another GB and cry some more
my blood is ink dripping from the pen
yours drips from thighs and forearms
you want to be the new thing
you forgot what the original means
and burned all of your dictionaries a while ago
check my *** cheek
the origin is there
UK/USA
now all the lights are off
and the moon hangs fat, sacrificial in the sky
do you want the moon? That’s what I’ll do. I’ll give you the moon.

My **** is in anonymous
kisses of some unknown shore
where the tide undulates to it’s own exotic rhythm
you can call it lust
when playing with fire becomes a necessity
working in the fields towards a better crop
in the age of reckless apathy everybody knows how to smile
having fun because it’s all that is left to do
I am caught in a vice grip
so roll up another because this room is starting to seem real
the sky is either orange or purple or something else
and my cup is far from full
you have to know yourself otherwise
when high tide rolls through you will lose yourself
to pretty cheerleaders and too many consequences
that you let slide
she isn’t very good with directions
which explains how she found herself here
laughing and saying pretty things
as the last light bulb burns out
leaving me in another self-inflicted dark room
whispering my secrets to the moon

She is a double dare
Laughing like the air in the room was running low
Eyes like the open road
With hints of a sharp s turn ahead
She said sometimes you have to be spontaneous
She said why don't you?
Waiting in the dark trying to break through the blur of the squint
As faces passed by like mile markers
A hurricane of zebra print sorority crap
I didn't mind dry in the safe eye
Gasping in silence
Eyes closed tight
Nails on flesh
Screeching against the edge
Bedrock shifting in vibrations
As the world carried on outside
Careless but anything other than apathetic
Fire fighting off the inevitable dark
Beating drums
Peace against a chaos of war
And when it was all over
And sleep crept in
I woke up feeling renewed
More than a human being

cracked out
humble with heaps of pride
braggadocio Pinocchio
I haven’t slept in days
so watch the hours turn into haze
blown out of barely open windows
hide me from the world
I’m making a pristine machine - unbreakable
foreseeable as a weapon of poor taste
chasing wasted with chasers
are you shaking?
only with excitement
rage
hunger
My dad says get a job, get an education
so I chose a dead vocation with no hopes of vacations
and everybody is talking about the future as if it exists
it only exists in clenched fists and endless lists
of all the wrong turns you made on the journey
from then to now
I’m eating sacred cow meat - medium rare please
coming up with ways to scare these dumb ******* kids away from apathy
to put the shield over their hearts and the rifle in their hands
but wah wah nobody understands blah blah blah
shut the **** up for once
act like you actually have a pair of *****
even if you don’t
back in the day when we used to rob neighborhood garages of beer
and played with pills like candy
nobody threw tantrums about how unfair it all is
so you think the world owes you something?
the only thing it owes you is one death
so why are you wasting all of our time with your I could have saved the world
cry baby *******
I’m looking for slutty girls
pearl necklace on her checklist
so I can slam her on page verse
me versus the world, right?
left out by all the cool kids
drinking boohoo flavored kool-aid
so I made myself a parody of pretension
cunning, coming, *******
you are the joke so I guess that makes me a punchline
I’m running sprints from the baseline until I’m throwing up the right choices
so continue with all of that angsty impotent sadness
so long as you stay out of my part of town

they are taking all of the ideas which once worked
and are forcing them into the corpses of dead horses
kids are slitting each others’ throats for the clothes on their backs
or are in charity stores stealing from the poor
the tension in the air at the dinner party has half of us
leaning on lean towards outlawdom and fifty dollar eighths
a spark of flint in the dark gives away your position on the wrong side of tracks
with eyeballs and ears waiting around every single ******* corner
so now private is ******* and they are ******* with fury
the constant race with fake identities until we find one that is safe
we caught a glimpse of the earth turning lazily on its axis
and realized how far away we all are from hand holding kumbaya camp fires
the tribes of black and metal and steel and concrete and blood are tearing through the land
and they don’t tend to take prisoners
we kept on churning out the same ******* and then got confused when they all stopped eating
so now they hunt for new witches to scapegoat
burning them on crosses and pyres until all the screaming ceases
all we can do is find a little inch of free ground
and defend it with all we have got

Sleep on me like memory foam
never forget like September eleven
snow flurries are the forecast today
with a little bit of hopelessness
a new nasa study which I read on facebook suggests
that modern civilization will crumble upon itself within the next two decades
so the cold wind blows across the dusty plains
and the litter strewn streets rest easily like guerrilla militants
pay homage to the blazing skies
another day waiting for the bite to come
another day praying like mad men
the nostalgic characters we created are haunting us
we are all being called home
supper is getting cold
and we are all in need of a solid night’s sleep
before what is to come

You are getting nosebleeds at all the wrong times
the tears welling up behind your eyes to track down  your
pale, pockmarked cheek
and that bulging in your throat constricting the airflow
let’s you know that fast can be too fast
you thrive with the sunlight
but like flowers standing tall against the oncoming winter
you wilt with day’s last breath
what time did you get home this morning?
hair all matted and stood up
smelling like a sorority party massacre
glitter, wine, tequila, coke, and anonymous ****
take another adderall
******* for the bored children
feel the electrical signals pulse from your brain
to snap your pupils to attention
wash the ***** out of your hair sweet heart
the boys back home never talked to you the way these city boys do
“girl, *****, chick, ****, ***** -”
“oh her? yeah she’s a sure ****
her legs are like seven eleven
they’re not always doing business, but they’re always open…”
So forget the night ever happened
each day brings new opportunities
but they all want you
they all want one thing from you
and you don’t want to say no
don’t want to make them mad,
be a tease, a *****, frigid
and you like the way they make you feel special and beautiful
until the next morning
with the nosebleeds and the dry heaving in strange toilets
and you are waiting for Prince Charming, huh?
as if he will jump out of cheesy romcoms and magazines to hold you steady
well Prince charming is dead weight slowly spinning beneath a frayed, twisted rope
in a dark closet next to the nameless stranger and the noble outlaw
so go ahead and smash those mirrors sweetheart
what’s seven years more bad luck?

The jester is weeping - locked in the bathroom, not coming out
the jester is weeping like a girl stag on prom night
each fetal rock accompanied by a jingle of bells
he painted a picture of perfect only to find the paint dry
the ugly makeup is running down his face
and his suit is tattered with grit
a clown is a last straw to clutch when the world is burning
“yeah, but at least it’s funny”
his drink spilling down his chin
watch as he makes a balloon noose
so the children can play hangman with his wavering decisions
his pants are full of candy
call it a painata
you can laugh and laugh and laugh
until it all sounds like wailing
the jester, weeping like the fool he plays
the crown’s court pleased with their pet
obnoxious explosions of ignorant, blissful cackles
the jester is tired
he has to go to sleep now
and the once they lose the laughter
they will see the brutal realities
they will be cannibalized by their fear
God, save the Jester
he’s all we’ve got

My roommate is vacuuming the apartment
I'm thinking about distances
past to present,
empty to overflowing,
shattered to whole
doctor your wounds are bleeding again
and I don't have the proper training
we toil and toil beneath the gaze of an oblivion
too much sweat on the brow to take the time to ask why
my heart is a runaway train
my brain the penny on the tracks
there's no such thing as non-civilian casualties
hungry is as hungry does
it's just the nature of these lives
our carrot on a string
I thought I caught a taste once
only to bite my own finger
It hurts, but the pain is just motivation
to keep on living
and all of those lessons and truths
she whispered in your ear on dreaming nights
are still the reason your heart beats the way it now does
wake the hell up
perfect does not exist
and you are going to be fine
fix the roof
you are going to be fine

He had no name to call his own
no true home either
he had been following his footsteps into unknown
for an unknown amount of time
days, weeks, months, years?
the convalescent bond he shares with his heart and his gut and his spine
meander around and through his humanity
tributaries of some God sized river
when the night comes around
he hunkers down in a suitable place
and drifts off to restless sleep
his legs twitching with excitement like an old dog’s dreams
he is a biblical figure in a non-biblical world
he drinks too much and vomits up cringe inducing truths
let’s things slip
but all in the name of honesty
all in the name of passion
all in the name of the nameless father who cast him out from Eden
he roams with the cold, the hungry, the tired, the poor
he roams through crack deals on Y street
and date rapes on Laurel
he roams and roams and roams until sneakers become slippers become bare feet
riddled with blisters turned callous
he roams with the forever sleepy drunks who murmur nothings at nobody
he has a harmonica and he plays a song called love
sleeping under the divine sanctity of cathedral steps
smelling like the James River
Norfolk salt in his hair
and a tan that only comes with those who have a pinch of Southern Soil in their blood
he roams seeking out the answers that we didn’t have the time or courage
to pursue

Walking past businesses with their doors wide open
letting the spring air permeate the room and vanquish
the lingering taste of winter
I’ll have what I always have - only make it iced
an ice cream cone is melting in the gutter
and I can almost hear the five year old girl crying for another
all of the colors of this worldly palette now so vibrant
take the blinders off of my eyes
and let my heart dance to rythym of far off shores
I’m smiling because the birds stopped shrieking and started singing
I write the same five or six poems over and over and over again
but I dress them up in different costumes
I’ve always loved acting the noble fool of endearment
I have to move my car in 40 to avoid the ticket
but I might just see how far that ***** little hatchback can take me
to avoid my roots going so deep they dry up
listen to love
listen to rage
listen to petulant cries for warped justice
listen to lust
and listen to depressed realizations
listen to all of the ******* we can come up with
we love to talk but not to listen
blah blah blah
shut up
it’s sunny outside
so take of all of your clothes
and dance in your nakedness
in the middle of midday broad street
unlock all the cages
let the light in
it’s a great day for living
so quit your death march

With great power comes the shirking of great responsibilities
I am the super zero
so **** justice and right and wrong
the track is stuck on a loop
and it sounds like insanity feels on fingertips
in our hedonistic heathenism we tore the palace walls down
only to make room for something far more beautiful
she taught me that
behind closed eyelids we all look the same
and the floor rising up to meet us
feels more like flying than a crippling fall
our time here is flying out the window by the second
like paper debris in a car going sixty with the windows down in the summer
my source of most frustration stemming from my own warped principles
let them all go
because we’ve all got life left to live and as nice as dreams are
the concrete of the pavement outside is always real
always there
consistently mundane
so make an adventure out of macaroni paintings
and smash all of the clocks and wristwatches
let’s act as stupid as we did in middle school
lets burn our caution at the stake
and say ***** to your paranoid thoughts
the paint has to dry before it can chip away
charity the most prototypical example of how self-serving
and alms aren’t always mutually exclusive
so keep on driving outraged fist into the metaphoric faces of all of your excuses
and keep on burning at your own fiery temperature
you owe us to try and shape this world into a painting of pure beauty
and **** all of the other irrelevances
she taught me that

You were trying to cover your footprints in the sand
and only ended up leaving more
a spiral of your perfectionism
look over there -
over the beach houses on stilts
and the fauna - scrap metal bushes and dry, lonely trees -
see how the sun’s kiss sets the sky on fire?
the water is licking our heels with an icy, arctic tongue
we could walk westwards until our silhouettes are vaporized
but the sand is relaxed and this beach is empty
the acoustic guitar is talking in its sleep
ADD children are doing backflips in the backyard

Night crashes and crashes and recedes into the horizon
we climbed atop one another with visions of lunar satisfaction
time slows down and each drop of condensation on the window
contains the secrets of this muggy southeastern air
the strangers are encroaching too thick to think
warped monstrous faces ripe with desire
we couldn’t answer the questions so we burned the test
tinder to our fire so we could ward off the predators for another night
but the ground is growing smaller day by day

Mr. Demon do not deviate from this round of double dutch
my shoelaces are tied together
and I am hopelessly drunk off of your ideas on romance
that mix of sunscreen, sweat, perfume, and your breath
as my fingers prune
we mistook the blinking jet engine for morse code from the stars
once the clouds part we will have an escape route
taking flight with the startled panic of street birds
the earth will shake, the seas boil over, and the clouds will applaud
with wings made of coat hangers, brown paper bags, and masking tape
we will arr through the sky
like fireworks

Have You Found God?

priestess you have found me shameful in my wanting
my sin, your stubbed toe
you curse me
in ways I have never heard -
but I found God -
I found God in the silence of quiet night time street
and the bathroom floor
God came into the restaurant once
he didn’t tip
but he did turn all the water into wine
God sleeps by the bus shelter
and asks for cigarettes
God is an old insane man in the halfway house
he sells me his piano CD’s for five bucks a pop
I read his libretto once, it was alright
God is a family man - a father
but every Friday night around 630 PM
you can find him at the bar, because a guy has to cut loose sometimes
God asked me for directions to the Garden of Eden
and sleeps with a night light
Oh priestess, I know you lament your long lost husband
in long forgotten altars to the old world
just know he’s out there
always in the last place you look

I downloaded my honest expression of feelings for you
but it came as a zip file
and I’m hardly tech savvy
so It sits in my hardrive with the other long lost files
like that first bike ride without training wheels
and christmas back before it all got so painfully awkward
two spaces above it
is the memory of being chased by angry farmers on tractors
and the file I edited last
was my self-image profile picture

I want you.
but sometimes wires don’t connect and the connection tends to
falter - lag
so I sent my mind to the pornographic district
where the lights flicker so red, like your favorite shade of lipstick
and for a few minutes there I committed biblical abomination
which is a fancy ******* way of saying I jacked off
before checking my local news site for the five day forecast
rain, rain, rain, rain, but a hint of sunshine

Woah! That’s a risky site! Are you sure you still want to continue?
not really. But last time I checked I never asked you for anything
so I’m buying the ingredients for happiness on ebay
two parts forty ounces of malt liquor
three parts resin stained smoking apparatus
two parts the wrong crowd
and ten parts stupid *** decisions
now I’m stumbling upon locked door keyholes
to see bootleg copies of your next summer blockbuster
they’re worth the ten dollars a pop - I’m just broke

I tried to upload a **** shaming video of you to youtube
but it was taking too **** long to process
so instead I tweeted all 140 of the characters I have played
and wrote you a bittersweet, scathing review
4.5 stars out of 5 - would not recommend
#FuckYou
I would still swipe right to your front door on silent nights
smelling like a bad rock and roll cliche
saying the same one liners over and over again

I listened to your swan song on spotify
and yeah, I’ll admit, It had me swaying
but that might just be the new “Twenty dollar a week diet”
I was forwarded online
so skype with my self-esteem
and IM me your holy of holies
and I’ll pretend whichever God you follow is up there somewhere
maybe I am just a post on your blog
maybe I’m just the virus causing you to curse at low speed internet
but I think you should leave your ISP a nasty voicemail
because this headspace is corrupted
and this computer is crashing towards an eternal shutdown

On the first Friday of every month
the Arts District of Richmond VA
becomes alive at night with the buzz of artists
local artists of almost every medium
galleries which are only open for ten hours a month
suddenly filled with leather shoes
plaid shirts, skinny jeans, beards, and holes in earlobes
they walk around crowding the streets
coaxing families who made the trip from all the way uptown
to listen to the poets and painters and photographers and sculptors
prattle on about what sets them apart
they all clap each other on the back for being so **** original
I’m walking through the parted sepia sea
avoiding gazes of strangers cast in iron
I marvel at their work
which for this one night is the subject of a city
more or less, anyways
we were high on life. We were high off of too much ***
and all of the local talent
high on validation and pretension
the Mormons accosted us
their attempts to save our souls from damnation
really geeked us out
we took their lemonade, but not their word
“Incarceration: the art of captivity”
an installation by some kid who has never seen a shade of true blue
through the lens of his iPhone
if we all believe really hard -
then maybe when the sky opens up
to **** us all into the hungry sky -
all of this art will save us

You said that satire is not your favorite flavor ice cream
well sweetheart that is too **** bad
the broken clock on my wall
is right more than you’d think
and this broken record may make you seasick
but I wouldn’t trade it for all the pretty girl smiles in the world
you said I dress like a poor man when really I’m a smiling white faced teen
well you dress like one of my wet dreams
so who’s really winning?
so my lines are played out? Washed up? Dried up? Flat?
So my howl is more of a yawn? My leaves of grass more like turf?
well crucify me to your canvas little miss art
I look good in red and blue
you said I take things too personally
or not at all
you said that apathy isn’t really that attractive
well neither is *******, but somehow you pull it off
you said you think we’ve still got a few weeks of winter left
so how come I can feel the clouds beginning to break over head?
you’re right. I am wrong. You are wrong. I am wrong. You are right.
would you pass me the ashtray please
I think I may have gotten ahead of myself
this headache is too large for advil to tame
and my throat is itching again
so, just for a while, I think I’m going to put you on hold

The coffee is brewing in the kitchen
God that line is played
but it is true
black drop after black drop
you are in bed still
I have not been much of a sleeper as of late
up by 830 down by 330
so I am brewing us a whole *** of coffee
which the *** says is twelve cups
but it is really six
even numbers are good like that
and now you dream in unmade bed
of things I wish I could drag kicking and screaming
into this reality
twelve(six) cups takes a little bit of time
so I’m writing you bleary eyed poetry
by the open window as winter’s last breath chills so nice
what are we going to do today?
get breakfast? go for a drive? I’ve got no work today
are we going to fight
cat and dogs and all that other crap?
oh we are?
then It’s a good job the coffee’s ready

crushing on your better state of mind
and the curves beneath those clothes
thrown on so haphazardly
eyelashes tickling my common interests
eyes like the characters in the comics I used to read
have you ever known somebody to hide from sunshine?
You drew little doodles on my forearm
and the scratches and smudges of ballpoint ink
still rest in my flesh’s memory - hazy as all hell -
but still there
these lines don’t stack up much in comparison
to the notes which you emit
my not so secret secret love bird
If I hadn’t lost the key to the cage
I’d shoot you my arrow straight at the sun
to see you spread wings in dazzling flight
watching the children straining their arms to touch you
but you’ve always said I hang around with the wrong kids
and I can’t deny it - but you’ve gotta see that you make that cut
mine were always the stoners and the drop outs
too young to be quite so lost in the big bad city
we pretended to be wolves and went off on our lonesome
I found you there
dire in your attempts to shrug off a world of lesser cares
you said you’d adopted a puppy in wolf’s clothing
so my bark is worse than my bite, so what?
know that I’ll be the annoying neighborhood dog
waking you up every morning at six AM
the dog that you’ll miss when you get the hell out of this town

When all the magic is gone
we will crawl from checkpoint to checkpoint
with dull great white eyes
always hungry
always starving ourselves
gotta look good for the summer
when all the magic is gone
we will howl out for sacrifice
it’s shoe harvesting season
and you’ve gotta cop some of this crop
when all the magic is gone
the national anthem will change with top 100
and when the air is stale
the prophets and poets will be driven out of town
to test their mettle in uncaring wilderness
when the magic is gone
we will hail the president on bended knee - blindfolded
when the magic is gone
everything will be trending
and nobody will give a ****
so get your abra kadabras in now
you don’t know how much magic we have left

Give me **** kicking string pickers
give me harmonica headgear
and bluegrass heroines
Give me the Southeastern porch nights
beneath stars which flicker like wind burdened candles
Give me you - swaying lazily to the rhythm of cicadas
toss me to Atlantic shores
the geography of this passion knows no borders
Give me your flaws to toss as skipping stones
the sun outside bears down on us like
infinite overzealous mothers
but the ground is nothing but black ice
slowly melting into midday
by this time tomorrow the trees will dance with life
rainbows spouting from lonely buds clinging to long dead limbs
Give me the picturesque green lawns of academia
reaching out to caress the breeze
Give me overcrowded coffee tables
and long talks about nothing with good friends
Just know - that if you could give me Christmas
I’d spend 12 days writing you 12 thank you notes
each one more genuine than the last
Give me all of this
Give me none of this
either way I will give you
as much of myself as I can

David was waiting. Always waiting.
David did not know for what.
He didn’t speak until three years of age -
regardless of the speech therapists.
School came and school went
David the underachiever
who always got good grades
his mind wandered
and he spent most of his time inside of day dreams
he moved around a lot
always friends with the outsiders
punk rock, heavy metal, hip-hop
skate boards and ink
comic books and stand up comedy
one summer he met drugs and alcohol
and fell in love for the first time
with altered perceptions and thoughts
all the while -
David was always waiting,
but now, he was searching
searching for something -
******* anything which would bring it all full circle
whether he was shy or reserved is up for debate
but he always sought solace behind the locked door
notebooks began stacking up under beds
and thoughts began finding their way out of the nest
until the day he graduated high school with honors
He came upon the realization
that the time for waiting is over
the waiting - but never the searching
and David is out there - somewhere
looking for answers that he might never find
but at least he took the leap

can you taste the iron on your lips?
acid reflux creeping up your tongue
as you swallow another soul whole
sweat stains on a pillow
all of this surrounds us
time will tell us as legends or monsters
we aren’t in control of the wheel
tirelessly we maraude the alcoves and nooks
of an indifferent planet
they call the thing we’re looking for love
we call it whatever gets us through today
but if this shriek of pain sets your teeth on edge
just know that it should
just know that even the smallest island
is connected to the most landlocked country
through an underground railroad of humanity and history
the bedrock is constantly shifting and warping
but it’s key elements remain eternal
tattoo my address on your forearm
should you ever find me lost you’ll know what to do
with the baggage I carry like heartbeats in a ribcage
do not burn the bridges
regardless of how rundown they might become
do not convert drift wood into an idol of the sun
because time is relative but the moon will always have it’s moments
eclipse your protests with apathetic motor oil
manifesting the robotic machinations of another man shackled
tethered to anchors which set out not to drown him
but to keep him on the precipice of high tide
all of the great words in the world couldn’t paint a picture
of what this all means
so why do we try so ceaselessly
to see the face of God

got a new health system for the new wealth victims
take it on good good faith
why try communicate
when the fake and faceless
don't seek illumination
all across the nation
we've got nothing except teenagers coughing
racing each other to the coffin
dear God will this globe stop spinning long enough
for me to tough out these spins
I'm sweating on the bathroom floor
losing all the words I could never ignore
and yeah I like to live in the similes and metaphors
but I'm just looking for a ***** of Babylonia
moaning on the phone as again as I **** my paper n' pen
give me an acoustic mariachi quartet in the morning
urge me from snoring dreams of soaring
because rent is due
and I'm way too broke to waste so much time
sitting here writing for dimes and nickel spots
fraudulent paychecks not enough to cut it
no room left to say **** it
something has to put a stop to this
we've been playing chicken for too long
with your favorite song on repeat on my radio
the flowers are now in bloom
until another winter brings their doom
and we ally say it's too soon
so pour another tall drink into the kitchen sink
and make some time to think
if we keep treading water like this
eventually we'll all sink

I'm on my way to see you. Sailing through the in between parts of our state. Hay bales and horses. small town auto shops. Men and women with tired eyes. I'm on my way to see you. Open up the box wine. Open up the *****. I'm on my way to see you. Remember all those times that I never measured up? I track my progress by the path of raindrops. You are the only person I think about on a daily basis. The only person to have ever left me tongue tied to the train tracks. Play me my favorite song. Sing me to relief. If I had the courage to be everything you wanted - believe me I would. But day fades into night just as I fade into my many costumes. I've never felt less than the sum of my parts, but you are the missing piece to the jigsaw I've been slotting together since puberty. I come on strong. Only because I need the warmth of your bravery. Generally, I avoid the mushy stuff. However - I'd be just as mushy as you want. This rant doesn't come close to the thought left under lock and key. And yeah I do want to get into your pants, and yeah I do want to get under your skin, but I'd be the parasite you wouldn't be without. I'm on my way to see you, and I don't want tonight to find the full stop.

for the people who made my days
the people who perked their ears up
when my unattended fire hose
started to spray bile like rainbows in the sky
for the people who put their word behind my name
the silent friends who never knew it
for every single person who took the time
to define the way my mind unwinds
the people who had advice to give
the people who had nothing but adoration
these words sometimes fall flat
and my mood can be at rock bottom
but I never stop thinking of you all
the ones who pulled me up
when I was all but ready to give up
a simple thank you is order
thank you.

Inside my head at all times
I slowly begin to believe
that all of these poems
are self-serving servings of selfishness
can I accept that for what it is?
self-acceptance is accepted as the way to go
but improvement sounds just like superficial small talk
I smell like pickles and meat sauce at any given time
but these ink stained fingers
know no bias based on heart beats
Hysteria in the streets
watch the ants swarm over the abandoned picnic
watch the ants lose their **** over mixed chemical signals
Mary is calling me home to her embrace
and I'm too nice to say no
but if I could just get a small lead
I'd open up the highway and discover Eden
regardless of how many times God ***** his teeth
blood is blue until it meets oxygen
and the blues were stolen from a people who truly knew them
but hey - whatever sells, right?
put the bullet in my head
should I ever become one of them

fade away from sunlight
the dogs are keeping the neighbors up
a shadow is cast from God's smiting hands
it looks like heaven
Watch me slowly drip down the storm drain
one nerve ending at a time
I saw a crib in an alleyway
by the big green dumpster
and the story behind it
is too terrible for me to ruminate on
cracked brickwork reveals the ****** history of these streets
Monroe Park Campus used to be all nightclubs
and crack spots
the coke was good - I hear
I'm snorting up lines of cigarette ash
high on hypocrisy
high on self-loathing masochism
and mirror checking narcissism
megalomaniac with a chip on his shoulder
watch all the pins line themselves up
only to wave at the gutterball
motive? intent?
these words don't concern me
I'm just trying to keep this fire alive tonight
so I can ward off all the moonlight predators  
these stars will be long dead
by the time I reach them

what is the definition of us?
you beat the crap out of me
and I come crawling back
they just don’t know you like I do
they just don’t see love like I do
nobody understands
and I’ve always lived to spite
so I keep on keeping on with our swan song
and yeah I could go without you
if I really wanted to
but I was raised to not quit
plus - every time I see you again
you look better than last time
I mean ******* is that lingerie or a ballgown?
and we never get out of bed
which I like
but I never get out of bed
which I hate
You tell me
never change
so I walk around town in sweatpants
and four day stubble
hair always greasy and wild
and the beautiful people I make eye contact with
look at me like a raving homeless lunatic
which wouldn’t **** me off so much -
if they weren’t so close to the truth
but you are a full time job
and I’m getting overtime
dot my eyes again
we both know I deserve it
we both know we deserve each other

the same toothless chatter heard always
bruised biceps scratched with defensive wounds
too hungover for spanish class
so it’s a bowl of kief for the remedy
I’m singing in the rain
only it’s sunny out
and the toads are all escaping
hop up on another high
and scrape up against a new low
are we there yet?
Rock Bottom looks a lot like your apartment
forge filigreed with fools gold
black eyes and sore knees
soaking wet sleeping in a doorway
so long as the DMT is purple and not orange
then we’ll soon be biblical prophets
touched by God so that we could better understand
that the dishes aren’t going to do themselves
ever tried to pronounce psilocybin when you’re tripping?
cough medicine has another meaning
it’s just like the music videos
only my heart is exploding
my chest caving in
and the hurricane inside my head is blind
spark up another sweet
and pour another glass of sour
be well rested
tomorrow you’ve got another spanish class to not go to  

I just took too much
all of these walls are still spinning
******* I’m high

Go ahead and paint a picture of perfect
time slips between our fingers
like my tongue slipped between my lips
to say something stupid
politicians are sleeping soundly atop the knife
metal to the floor
pick up speed
pick up bad habits
linoleum is easy enough to clean
but khakis stain like a *****
but if you want to sell me your deepest darkest dream
I’ll haggle with you all night long
we give birth to Cobras and give them to the hungry mongoose
put me on the blacklist
my white flag is stained with blood and grey matter
but everybody in their right mind wants to get a chance
to walk through wrong altered perceptions
I stole your dream catcher
and I’m writing novels about your hopes
and faults and I track your arteries
along the fault lines of imaginary continents
is this insanity?
it’s easier said than done
play chicken with my train of thought
spine is steel is cowardice is machismo
put me under your microscope
tell me what’s wrong
I’ll give you a doodle on the back of a napkin
and a shoddily put together love poem

All of the Richmond Hipsters
and time killing smokers are killing me
The hobos with broken thumbs
They just barely catch the bus
Late nights under the eastern stars
The City of almost-angels
beards and gauges and butts
Tatted up art chicks with more skin than clothing
Invite me over your threshold
Make me some supper, the coffee is in the ***
River tides carrying away the used condoms of the confused
Liquor breath, joints and e-cigs
Poets, painters, photographers
The air reeks of art and death
fist meets face meets pavement meets God
The good times are killing you, and I’m showering until the water runs cold
cough up my phlegm, it tastes like love
grinding against a stranger’s *** all night long - like it was all we knew
We couldn’t feel so we tried to touch
we fell short and drank from the puddles with gasoline rainbows
The bricks and cobblestones all have names that I will never know
Does anybody ever actually listen?
Life versus fun versus life versus death versus boring
Stack them up like tetris
The sun is sick with stories, the moon full of lies
And all the graffiti in the world won’t change that
snow sun rain sun blank canvases
hear the thunder of arrhythmic heartbeats
sweat drips and it tastes like ****
Black eyes on Bowe, black eyes on Goshen
Mad houses filled with gifted pianists
Ghetto driven dreams of another shot
Play that same acoustic guitar tune I like so much
I lost my harmonica in a storm drain
I lost my Mind in Richmond

I take coffee with my sugar and milk
I take air with my smoke
I take water with my beer
I take one too many steps towards the edge
falling now
letting go of a life too fogged up to control
**** my phone who needs the apps
friends fuckbuddies and pretentious awful photographs
I don’t think I’ve been awake for the last two years
because this all feels like a dream
and the glove fits no matter how many times
I run it through the drier
nobody ever changes - they only come into their own
I’m trying to get rid of these Russian Nesting Dolls
please oh please like my ******* poems
please oh please stroke my ego
please oh please tell me you aren’t wearing any *******
the blue sky is collapsing on us
and it feels incredible to see heaven brought down to our level
the people on the corner must’ve been right after all
the end is nigh and the devil is white
I look at my reflection as it warps like a crazy carnival
a little less false prophet and a little more anti-christ
I’m just sitting here like
“just be honest dude,
the solution to any writing problem is writing”
and now I’m over there like
“Stay the ******* my lawn”
bitter is an acquired taste
but if I am being honest I couldn’t care less about taste
so long as I get you drunk
so tweet that
put that on your blog
I’m not ready to leave the assembly line gig yet
and neither are you

no longer am I afraid of my own ignorance
nor am I afraid to lie
every single ******* poem
has to be so **** enigmatic
that I tire of reading
the same whiskey stained, cigarette smelling
blocks of text
I hate poetry
and I hate poets
I hate myself
and I hate you
so sue me
pretentious young people so concerned with life
pretentious young people all looking for a crack at the limelight
me oh me oh me oh my
read my pain drenched musing
feel the depth of my soul
because I have no other hopes
of ******* above my weight class
Me so touched and artistic
Me drunk and high -
a raving mess of hormones and emotions
where do we go from here?
which breakthrough is waiting to be made?
are we doomed to ape the beats and Bukowski
until the day that writing is made obsolete by tweeting?
**** oh **** oh **** oh ****
see? I’m edgy, couldn’t care less about P.C. and good taste
I’m wearing the same black shirt
as everybody else
but mine is different - see?
why be  a poet
when you can be anything else?
who chooses the bullet to the head
over the winning lottery ticket?

None of it really matters anymore
the amount of time I spent contemplating time
is maddening
I gave it a shot
the good life
but all I got were nicotine stained fingers
and a few shreds a few loosely remembered good stories
we’re all dead now anyways
just waiting for the boatman to come
calling our names
as we pay the toll of clocking out
I have senoritis
I have writer’s block
I have ****** stumps instead of fingertips
you have your own life now
your own looking glass to pass through
and this sigh
says infinitely more
than I ever could

The world had just rolled out of bed
remember the time I woke your mother up
with my sentimental talk and Kamel 100’s?
I do. I remember. Things like love and happiness
passion, *****, ****, and blood
the sounds the walls made against the bustling of life
we were inebriated on the endless possibilities
we didn’t want to see the trap looming above
until it was already upon us
Isn’t it silly to think of that now?
Drunk breakfast at three AM
coffee which kept us up longer than fragile moon beams
rinse and repeat
green paper envelopes
a citation for living without fear
we could’ve made the world stop in its tracks
if only we hadn’t ****** it all up
so badly

The rain fell in buckets that night
hair slicked to weary faces
and gazes which condemned the stars for shining
the gaping maw of it’s almost over now
is rapidly approaching
and we chew the cud of *****
until we ***** all over ourselves
arms ending at the wrist in ****** stumps
which spurt arterial confetti
so that the stray cats which wail at the moon
can stay fed for another day or two
how dare the sun burn so bright
in the face of such darkness
snub out the smiling masses
and cover them in soot and crude oil
the man behind the clock is laughing
between a pair of ******* aching with regret
but maybe after just one more run at it
we can pull ourselves free of salvation

You are the storm which ushered in the summer
bare limbed trees swaying in panic
straining against the anchored weight of their roots
with war drums constantly pounding against rib cages
hangovers and lactic acid induced cramps
a pack a day for every mistake made out of cowardice
slip in the oil slick of too little too late
we live only for continuity’s sake
these dreams are being swept away by a river of blood
diluted with poison
so break the cameras
keep on avoiding sidewalk cracks
keep on looking for escape at the bottom of the toilet
these cold tiles feel like childhood
this ***** feels like love
this costume feels like respect
and all of this ****
tastes like your kiss

Brain cells fading into haze
the sky is all topsy-turvy
we were walking through the stars
with our heads swollen to the size
of planets
we drank the leftover nectar of Olympus
and our strides brought tears to the eyes wilted flowers
the moon reflected from the broken forty ounce
told stories older than darkness
and we ate that **** up
with brown and amber and green
and street lamps bled crimson eternal
the four of us in an old hippie van
those were the days
when the plastic bottle was a key
and our face the beaten path
that I walked in rural childhood daydreams
simplicity is beauty is art is pretension
we spoke of sliding into Alice’s Wonderland
love is scary but ******* feels as good
as getting away with fake sick days
so we dressed like magazines and music videos
and lived like spotlight
until all of the wool knit scarves unraveled
and all the old wounds scabbed over

Buy yourself a masochistic combo meal
for the loose change and buttons in your pocket
the fish are thirsty
and the dogs won’t stop barking
I’ve got this itch and It’s just out of reach
would you mind?
I fell in love with your nightmares
and stole glances of you through the rain drops
string theory seamstress
running wild with jungle cats
you’ve got a little me in your teeth
white supremacist **** heads live ten blocks away
but they mostly stick to themselves
do you feel the paranoia closing in?
the sun sets behind a skyline made of fire
all of the fire hydrants in the world wouldn’t be enough
to sooth these burns
nothing makes sense anymore
so let’s just say **** the world and be done with it all
I’d rather walk down aimless avenue
than check into the jaws of life motel
for every drop swallowed
there are three of four dead children
we don’t take them for granted anymore
because we know they’re waiting for us
waiting to catch us when we inevitably fall

Cherubs wrestle animals to death
and shoot arcing arrows across the sky
it’s a love poem
about love
aww
every car parked on the street
has an owner
and that owner walks around the same city streets
looking for the same answers
standing on rained out rooftops
cherishing the brief respite from the grind
another person
whose fingers intertwine with their own
so perfectly
they must’ve been conjoined twins
separated at birth by chance
I could ramble on about the look of innocence
in a child’s eyes, but spare me the gushy stuff
it’s more about the chase than the checkered flag
and we’re all in the race
and there’s no such thing as last place
just those who take it at their own pace
so enjoy it
you’ll be dead within seventy-five years

The angels are playing their instruments
as the ship goes down
lifeboats made of billboards float through
the riptide of endlessly mundane adventures
icebreaking the callous apathy
one of these days the sun will tire of
dancing with the moon in the celestial ballroom
and one will fall
down on one knee
whatever the opposite of a proposal is
we ride this rock but don’t listen
when they tell us to keep our arms and legs
inside the car during the duration
the young smolder until they are quenched
or suffocated
and we all worship the first tree to flower in the spring
the line between ADD and stopping to look at all of these miracles
is as blurry as **** on the tv
but feed us with pills, pop-psychology, and poetry
stenciled on the bottoms of bridges
by wandering beaten down heroes
of St. Paul, San Fran, Richmond
Planet Earth
the to-do list consists of
find some paper and a pen
and something to do
country folk with straw in their mouth
a good hard day’s work
But I just rolled out of bed
and the world is flirting with me too much today
to simply ignore it

I used to pray a lot
knees to carpet
elbows on the edge of my bed
hands in the humble position
Dear God,
say hi to Granddad for me,
I hope he’s doing okay up there
waiting for us
I’ve been doing good
but I would really love it
if you could give me super powers -
I swear to use them right -
thanks God
-Harry

God never favorited any of my tweets
never liked any of my pictures
never poked me back
but that doesn’t mean much
in the ways of existence
I think He just doesn’t like to be bothered
and I never heard back about my Granddad
and I still have no super powers
but I am still here
and the weather outside
is ******* magical

I’m drowning in all the irony

Thrift store clerks with beards of

iron wool *****

and tattoos of the monsters under my bed



It goes coffee shop coffee shop camera store

bicycle vendor, corner store, coffee shop

parking deck, gas station, thrift shop



I have a pocket full of compliments

and a face full of stolen sunglasses and dental floss

and if I walk long enough

down broad, main, or grace

then maybe I can find the secret

the secret of how not drown

in all of the girls with their yoga pants and plaids

Can I learn to swim

when I’m already this far out?



I saw a homeless man eating a dead magpie

it was ******* weird

I was walking down one too many toward the intersection

of marijuana and spirits

already spinning myself a web of a night of discomfort

but the neon lights shone upon me

making me think it was the cops

so I ran and ran and ran until my shoes flapped worn

only to fall and skin my knee on the punchline

It’s hard to live in Atlantis

without a passport

or gills.

Mr. *******,
Mr. Oh here comes another pretentious cry for attention
I know self-deprecation babydoll
like you know his bedroom ceiling
Mr. International
jetted out from UK to the land of the silent heroes
where the grass isn’t green enough
and everybody was seemingly either
addicted to donuts, bacon, and cheese
or 5K’s, yoga, and weights
they don’t sell **** by the ten pack either
Mr. Liar Liar pants on fire
masochistic almost autistic
Mr. High or Drunk
Caffeinated thrift shop hipster
loves the girls until he has them
scrooge McDuck
I do believe misanthrope is the word
but always first to crack the whip of jokes in bad taste
if he were homeless he’d hang a sign around his neck
it would read:
Will somebody, for the love of God, please Validate me!?!
Mr. Rational thought secretly praying in the back room
Mr. Intellectual Dropout
don’t judge me judger
Mr. I’m brave for doing this
Jesus I am terrified
Mr. I could be great
if I could just find a ******* desk chair comfy enough

The sun shines through my bedroom window, catching all the dust
According to my weather app -
the real feel is hotter than the temperature -
beautiful
Wake up coffee work smoke repeat
what’s the problem?
I find the time to laugh
and to write poetry
and I’m not dead yet
and it will be spring soon

I almost ran over a rolling hub cap the other day
the other driver didn’t even notice
and yeah I got high last night
and spent all of my money on pizza
so sue me,
I pay my bills on time
working for dollars getting paid in change
but I’m not dead yet
and the children are getting out of school soon

Yeah yeah - the good buzz did turn into a whole handle
I blacked out and fell in the snow
tried to sleep in the doorway of the musical equipment store
and my friends did have to drag me home
we laugh about it now
sitting in my dark living room
looking at a dead TV
dripping wet
I’m not dead yet
and it’s all going to be fine

She had wine colored lips
probably because she was drunk off of wine
her eyes were the color of tears
but she had just been crying
she looked good, **** good
but then again, I was drunk and on a dry streak
whatever, it’s valentines night
and I don’t think she has ever even heard of self-esteem
plus, it’s too dark in here to really see anybody
amorphous shadows trying desperately to get laid
it’s all fun and games until it isn’t
but that’s tomorrow morning
and for now -
consequences do not exist
I was watching the TV
so I could find out which ****
the worthless **** of the week
was sitting on
you know,
conversation topics
she was watching the rain wash away the snow
you know,
wishful thinking

people operate under the wild belief that
survivors are strong by nature
strong is a weak word
adaptable is better
The meek shall inherit the earth
the strong will die trying to save it
Me? I’m a survivor
an actor master of disguise
playing the part of a self-righteous anti-hero
but when the bombs start falling
you aren’t coming in my bomb shelter
hell no
and when the mobs are chasing us
I’m tripping you for a few more precious seconds
too stubborn to die quite yet
but don’t worry
when the dust has settled
and the cults have left their caves
to repopulate this rock
I’ll tell the story of your heroic sacrifice

alright kid, listen up. They’ve been calling you ****** for too long. Ignoring your humanity for too long. The first thing you need to do is study up on your state’s gun laws. Waiting period? Hand guns? Age restrictions? You might be from the south - in which case you are in luck. A neighbor will have a rifle or shotgun, probably not locked away too well either. If you still can’t get your hands on a piece there is always the gun show loophole. Everything is legal if you buy it at a gun show. Now you’ve got your hands on a weapon you’re going to need some ammo. How mad are you? Remember to account for human error. Now you need to work on concealment. They’ll see the weird little *** with a cop killer from a mile away. Trench coats don’t work. Who the hell wears trench coats nowadays, you’ve gotta think. The night before you should sketch out a birds eye floor plan of the school. Mark the exits and choke points. You’ve seen 300 right? Make sure to leave a copy of your manifesto for a perfect utopia on your bedside and eat a good dinner. Get your eight hours. Tomorrow is the big day. Getting shot only hurts for the seconds it takes you to hit the ground.

The school yard was quiet. First period slowly meandering along. Outside the sky is grey and the birds perch atop telephone lines in judgement. It goes Bang, Bang, and Bang then silence. Then screaming. Ears ringing and sweat dripping.

This just in. A shooting at could’ve been you high school has left thirteen dead and six injured. Let’s shove the camera in their face and ask them to relive how awful it all was. That’ll get ratings for sure. The shooter was sixteen year old could be the weird kid in your neighborhood. He got a gun from insert political belief here and brought it to school that morning. He opened fire in the middle of shut up and listen class. Now we are going to show you every page of his crazed manifesto on repeat for the rest of day. You can also find it online on our website or on Amazon.

Death came quicker than he thought it would. Suicide by a police officer is honestly very efficient. with each bullet unloaded on him it was like slipping into a dream. No more eating lunch alone with his crippling social anxiety. No more name calling. No more absentee parents. No more PE classes getting hammered in touch football. No more loneliness or anonymity. At least now they would all remember his name. The feeling of getting punched in the chest and the taste of iron on his lips were his best memory to date. Darkness now.

We make monsters
and don’t go to their funerals
everybody living with survivors guilt
I was never mean to him
who saw that coming?
everybody wants love
but nobody wants to give it
so instead we capitalize on tragedy
and lament our own foolish ways
too little way too ******* late

time keeps on slipping through the seams
as worn out as a pair of work jeans
fade away and stay insane
who can we trust?
all the industries rust
as we stand beneath them
waiting to catch debris
to sell off at pawn shops
for a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread
suns down
so the pradators prowl the town
see how their fangs glint with motor oil
turmoil in the soul the sole reason for this lack of control
deeper we spiral
everybody just wants to go viral like small pox
drive the check through the box
the list of mistakes you still want to make
break through the shake up of rubble
and start some real trouble, burst their bubbles
visible from the hubble teloscope
we **** hope and call it dope
no more sirens in rearview mirrors
pen the next great thriller and bring it into reality
point out their logical fallicies
and make another casualty in the war
of left versus right
north south east and west
and we think one is the best
jesters playing guessing games in the crown’s court
but we always seem to fall short - straying off course
and of course it isn’t fair
we’ve all had our share of heartbreaks
but we claimed a stake of this land
pioneers of the yeah yeah yeah
but we multiply until we all die
leaving seeds on the front lawn
of the dawning of time