would you be offended
if I compared you to an alarm clock?
because you make me
wake the hell up
and maybe that ****** me off
a born seeker of silence
but i know
that if you hadn't
there would be so much
that I would miss
and to be honest
when you don't wake me up
a beautiful song
just the wrong place, right time
I miss you

Poetry taught me ******* myself
poetry taught me why I shouldn’t
poetry taught me that sometimes
a laugh is a whole lot more than a laugh
and poetry helped me get back in touch
with all of my long lost tears
poetry taught me that girls at a party
love a poet
but girls at a party
don’t know a ****** thing about poetry
poetry taught me that that doesn’t matter
I’ve got a **** and we’re all just animals
poetry taught me how to talk to girls
poetry taught me that I’m the type of guy
who strikes out way less on the page
Ermmm… yeah. Do ya like music?
poetry taught me that getting high
results in crashing lows
and it’s the ascent/descent which breeds art
passion comes from the destinations
poetry taught me honesty
and how to make a lie sound truthful
poetry taught me life and death
and made nihilism seem hip
poetry taught me that my Mum is on occasion
a crazy woman
and that my Dad is more like me than I’d like to admit
poetry taught me that that is all okay
poetry taught me how to be okay in the passenger seat
but also when to take the steering wheel by force
poetry taught me how to make the glint of
a neon sign reflected by a broken forty ounce bottle
into a dazzling beam of lunar light
poetry has taught me a lot
and I’m eager to learn

You walk in the door
Immediately you are aware of the competition
13 or 14 other guys
Who you imagine
Slobbering and panting
Over one of the few
Available females in the place
An you get mad
Jealous even
Over something
You were no where near having
This party *****
A total sausage fest
We should roll out
I'm sure,
the next party will be different
What are we
Always celebrating?

reach out to a rubber band snap
the strain on the brain, the unfortunate sap
who weaves his way through the shades of gray
lost without his map
and you were so far away
like no way near arms reach
and his scribble soul starts to spray
poetic driftwood washed up on the beach
but he carries on chasing
like you're his white rabbit
brain racing heart pacing
his favorite bad habit,
because he's a total addict
and whenever you're away
he sweats and he shakes
and drinks away the day
and through the night
waking up's always too bright
and it ain't right
no matter how much he fights
he won't win this bout
until he learns how to reach out

forgotten hunger
the echo of dull aches
crawl out of my stomach
and erupt neglected into the big wide world
they scream "FEED ME"
over and over again
"the last maniac I was with
wouldn't listen"
I walk around with a hole
instead of a stomach
light headed
every poem I write
is another hole
knifed into my belt
but it's one less distraction
and if i keep it up
maybe I can disappear entirely
and wouldn't that be nice

I used to love all of the drama
all of the *******
I was never a part of it
always off in the corner
watching,
observing,
unknown
the "struggles" my friends encountered
"My boyfriend is a ******"
oh no, please tell me more,
"He likes other girls"
you don't say
"My best friend didn't pay,
for the **** I loaned him"
what a *****
you should probably fight him
go ahead,
feed me what I need,
I won't tell
I have always been best at
being a blank canvas

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?

Oh Mr. Orwell
why did you have to write
that book
you know, the 1984 one,
the depressing one,
because you exposed them
and they knew you had
so Big Brother was taken
back to the drawing board
and they started from scratch
It was the best trick in the world
Instead of watching us
we watch him
instead of thought police
they just steal our thoughts
there is still a box in every home
and it shows episodes
of two and a half men
or the sucker free countdown
and jersey shore
I mean Jesus
they even managed
to trivialize reality
Oh Mr. Orwell
couldn't you have just
lived long enough
to topple this tower block
of spiritual silence

Duck beach
Drinking on the the sand
Fleeing corolla
With 30 beers
Finished before we made it back to duck
Thrown in cop cars
Blowing over a .2
Not getting arrested
Living like champions
Tattoos on the 4th
Which will last forever
Experiences with strangers
Nothing better

Do you know how lucky you are
I know that it is sometimes ****** to hear
to hear that your problems aren't the problems
you think they are
trust me
I had the worst year of my life
and today
I knew it had to change
so I changed it
the only thing you need to know
you are capable
of making the whole world stop in its tracks
so the next time
the annoying voice in your head
tells you you aren't good enough
or some other *******
remind yourself
Harry says we are all ******* awesome
with unlimited potential
the world is a ball of clay in your hands
do us all a favor
and make it something
absolutely ******* awesome

you took the words of wise men on a whim
dug yourself out a nice shiny foxhole
to shelter from the ricochets of words best left unsaid
but your maw aches
and those wise words
fall fat and useless
so ******* anyways
I'll find my own wisdom
I'll be laughing in kingdoms of never more
once I find the right word

I met Jack and James in the 9th grade
a Tennessee farm boy and an Irish *******
they were wild
they didn't listen to parents
or teachers
or me
they knew how to destroy and dismantle
and from the rubble they made their nests
they showed me good times
backed me up in bad
even introduced me to girls
like Mary,
in her sweatpants and poncho
no make up
talking about the universe
we first kissed the summer before 10th grade
everything was so ******* rosy
Me, Jack, James, and Mary versus the world
we were going to do big things
and ***** anybody who said no
we weren't the type to take any ****
but years went by
them sleeping on my floor
my couch
my bed
using my bathroom
my money
Jack and James started the fights
I got the bruises
While Mary sits on the couch
eating potato chips
and talking about her next great idea to change the world
I got the bills
I told them,
enough is enough
but that is never the case
now I sleep in a grave
they were kind enough to dig
with friends like these,
who has time for enemies?

you sit there
in that desk chair
or at your table
at the coffee shop
day after day
hour after hour
because it's all you know
past present future
the world outside
is growing bleaker and bleaker
but that's why they made blinds
close yourself in
remove from your life
everything except this
no school
no job
no money
no contact
just you
and a desk
and a head full of things
you don't completely understand
the road isn't always pretty
in fact most of the time
it's down right ugly
and maybe it will do the same to you
but in the end
after all of the flowers wilt
and the tears stop coming
people will talk about you
"**** that boy really went
all the way"

I thought about you last night
And it's not what you're thinking
I mean more like day dreaming
More like a storyline
Playing out in my head
With ups and downs
And it was so perfect
I wrote it down
And realized
I might love my fictionalized version of you
More than the real you
I guess that's always the case
But it made me realise
What I love so much
About writing
It's the closest I've ever felt
To god

I can not call myself a poet
with any good faith
I respect it too much
the raw words which shred out of me
come from a place
which I don't know
I didn't put them there
and though you don't know it
I'm pretty sure
that you wrote all of my poems
it just so happens
that the pen was clutched in my hand
the keyboard just happened
to be within my reach
but you're more than a muse
transcending language
you are a well
of emotional explanations
my guardian angel
pulling my strings from behind the scenes
if my poems are beautiful
it is only because you are too
if they are ugly, pointless, obscene, *****
it is because that's how you make me feel
you are a cathedral
which I can't besmirch
I hesitate to attach my name to this
what's a name anyway?
you are a poet
and you don't know it
you wrote this

She was just sitting there
over on the curb
looking lovely
and beat up
and tired and hungry
too perfectly imperfect
to pass up.

So I walk on over
trying to think of the best line
I've got
but I've always been better
off the top of my head
when I can find it
so I said to her

listen up sweet heart
I'm the kinda guy
who keeps his cigarettes
close to his chest
You listening?
because I'm the kinda guy
whose heart beats
and gut growls
all for you
so how about
you and I
go back to my place
and wait for tomorrow to wake up?

So things were good
for a while there
Maybe even great
but years of strong loving
only led to
scar tissue
and more scar tissue
all of it so bitter
she(I) went nuts
throwing plates
Now,
no eats
no sleep
breath won't keep
beer though
so It's all good
because If I keep on
drinking like I drink
and smoking like I smoke
living like I live
then I'll be dead by sixty five

so when you go out looking for love
be careful,
because I found mine
and she killed me

Don't let your kids grow up to be poets
because poets are a messy bunch
poets are the worst influences
they live in the thick of things
suspended in their own minds
and they are by a very large percentage
worth less than the clothes on their back
and they are all crazy
they all have to be
these mentally unstable babblers
they'd talk at anybody who'd listen
more like drunken tramps
than artists
so for the love of God
please don't let your kids grow up to be poets
because it's a rough time
you'd be better off keeping them in academia
that being said
upon reflection
would I have done it any differently?
not a ******* chance

You said I was the best,
no really,
you said that
As you drunkenly horse pet my face
then I said something
nowhere near as funny as I thought it was
but you laughed anyway
laughed as I told you I wanted to see your face on the other side of that glass pane
oh but you'll come visit me right?
of course I will say I'll visit you
but between you and me
plane tickets are expensive and I've always been a man of leisure
No lazy is not the right word
it's definitely leisure
you were scared
God knows why
as scared as I am when the time comes when I see you in person
a moving statue to the things I hold close
you said I was the best,
believe it or not,
as you drunkenly horse pet my face
and I said
only when it comes to you

don't give me clouds
and pearly gates
apple cheeked cherubs
and glorious holy bugles
give me warm white sand
as far as the eye can see
give me me sapphire oceans
give me tiki torches
and string me up a hammock
give me life sculpted around peace
give me her
give her me
make it so her eyes
are the first thing I see
and her closed eyelids
the last
on a daily basis
give me an audience
who I can try to show
how even the ugliest things
have enough beauty
to steal your very oxygen
to make your heart
take a moment to observe
hot passionate blood
standing still
in the vessels of your story
this is all I ask
of an afterlife

treat this as a warning label
stop, warning, harmful, toxic substance
this won't be a fruitful endeavor
turn around, and don't look back
running from a pillar of salt

It would be foolish to think
that i'm not selfish
people just don't understand
the difference between
nice and selfless
But I would swallow you whole
most comfortable when we
are not comfortable
when the ceiling is crumbling
I'm at my best

I will take you
and claim your humanity
for my own
using it greedily
turning it into words
packaging it
and shipping it off
to millions of fast thought
word joints

warning, explicit content
harmful if swallowed
too far regressed
a stubborn child
in need of saving
too proud to be saved
the Surgeon General recommends
not even taking the time
Just turn around
truly not worth it

When I was a young(er) kid
I was asked to play a lead role
in the high school play
The only kid my age
and dreams of fame
and Hollywood
crept tantalizing into my skull
And when I got on that stage
all of the nerves melted away
and I know I'm supposed to be modest
but I ******* killed it
the school gave me a drama award
and took all of the award winners
to a book store
with a one free book coupon
and that was the first time I fell in love

I picked up a book by Darren Shan
it was for teenagers
but I devoured it
cover to cover
in one sitting
It was an addiction
and every time I got a new book
I also got the old warning
"Don't read it all at once this time Harry"
Not a ******* chance woman
I'm tweaking out over here
It all became very clear
It wasn't the acting I wanted
It was the audience
and with acting
I was always telling
somebody else's stories
but my words
were certainly mine and mine alone
Until I decide to give it to you
the audience
the only people I've ever wanted to impress
or help
or move
or even just make them crack a smile
**** the money
the women
the food
the real world
They would all come in the end
if they were meant to
So to everyone who has read
my throwaway little thoughts
Thank you
and I am so sorry

I feel strongly
on the left hand a heart pumps love to every girl who smiled at me at some point
on the right hand a motor smokes toxic hate in clouds over the people who won't wake up from being awake
duality
yin to a yang
black to white
but never grey
small government
but stop telling people who they should ****
left brain fights right brain in a no holds barred cage match
and I'm pulled apart at the seams

Baby, let me be your puppeteer
pulling at those strings we both know so well
jerking you to make you do the things I like
I'll tell you I love you
if that's the sorta thing you're interested in
me, I'm more of a instant self gratification kind of guy
so light daddy's cig
and maybe take that pretty little mouth downstairs
tell yourself you're doing it because I love you and you love me back
go ahead doll face, now wear those shorts I like
he doesn't hate women. He just really really loves them
sure thing sweet heart, whatever gets you going
tell yourself I cut those strings a while ago
go ahead
but remember to get my blood flowing
boiling over
in the morning I won't want to remember your face
dance for me puppet
before I put you back in that closed box

Beach week
so we were just there
in they eyes of parents
to drink, drug, and ****
and we were
but there's more to it than that
it was a goodbye
a send off
to the times when we were allowed to be kids
so every grain of North Carolinian sand
was like a moment in time we spent
innocent like a memory
and we bask in the sun
the sand mixing with sunscreen on our backs
and we start drinking every day
at 2 pm
as if we actually had something to celebrate
we ate special brownies
and threw all of the chairs in the pool
and spent a good twenty minutes
laughing our ***** off
and to the sound
of generic radio music
hips and ***** grind against crotches
in hopes of kindling
that high school romance
that we never had the courage to pursue
and the day we left
at the end of the week
felt like a funeral
as if,
even if we did see each other again
we wouldn't be looking at the same person
we're all just growing up
moment after moment
and I don't want to

I am in the wild
a world not of nature
but the nurturing of ambitious men
and blood thirsty predators
The Wild
where you can walk
desperate mile after desperate mile
without seeing another human face
only the twisted visage
of a wounded, snarling beast
In the distance I hear the
pounding of drums as
black smoke sails across the sky
declaring war on anything
which looks like it might belong
I am in the wild
and am not yet ready to return

My mother was a catholic
until her mother died
she said she fell out with God
and sitting through surgeries
and a harsh childhood
stole God from my father
And that leaves me
sitting in an empty church
listening to the rallying calls
the crusades never ended
but the holy land has changed
the human mind
told to fear difference
but nobody cares
if I wear a shirt of poly-cotton blend
I think it's time for a new bible
after all
the current one is pretty old
gathering dust on my bed side table
papal imagery ****** in my face
they should have stopped writing it
after they penned the golden rule
and tossed out the rest

A taste for being inebriated
The sense of dissolving completely
Into the silence of night
I learned how to spot a spinning room
For a cheap carnival, parlor trick
I can't tell birds apart by their chirp
But I can appreciate a beautiful day
Even when everything feels lost
Poetry gave me a voice
And taught me when to shut the **** up
It showed me to see the angels
Trapped inside of everybody
Begging to come out
But it also showed me
When to be wary of a lost cause
Poetry gave me a way to vent
When I could feel the chaos I life
Crawling up my throat
Poetry gave me vision and a fresh perspective
Poetry have happiness
And self discovery
And love
And for all the bruises I carry
I wouldn't trade it in for anything in the world

Me - “My Mum’s getting worried” skinny
You - “God I want you right now” beautiful
Us - “Are they hanging a painting up?” loud
It’s release kindled with belief
that you could find that corresponding jigsaw piece
and I’m a corner piece - easy
and you are an outdoor cat - hardly tame
in that pair of black workout pants
and that flowing dark hair
You are like Spanish
beautiful, strange thing I can’t get my tongue around
I’m like somebody lmaoing on a chat room
efficient with my lack of substance
laying on the bed watching you get dressed
I drag on my imaginary post-******
because I know you hate the smell of the real thing
unless its staleness is imprinted deep in my clothes
this disease has no known cure
the way the images slideshow their way behind my eyes
the way my blood is rerouted
every time I catch a smell of your sweat
or a memory of your taste
like faces on passing trains -
eyes locked momentarily
I went from student to drop out to student to lover of life
if life were a metaphor for the way you move those hips
you said you don’t know how to dance
well your tongue must’ve been taking night classes
maybe one day I’ll ask your last name
maybe one night you’ll say mine like a confession
but until then, special little stranger, keep bringing that *** over to my place

I got drunk last night
Celebrating my birthday
One friend
Hospitalized
Another almost arrested
Another sick as a dog
Another hanging out the window

The next day
Apathy struck
The will to live
All but gone
Eating ******
College cafeteria food
And discussing
Our lives,
We came to two conclusions
Our lives were bad
And that didn't matter
Because nothing matters

back leaning against the tub
forehead resting in forearms
on the toilet seat
just waiting for the ***** to come
but ******* wouldn't you know
it's taking its **** time
the cold of the tiles
feels good
on the bare skin of the thighs
and the sweats come out
bucket after bucket
Lean further into the tub
wouldn't it be nice to sleep there?
to wrap up in a blanket
a taco of heart racing
too drunkenness
hoping to find a land
where they could finally be free
hoping to find a land
with the comfort of
a bathroom floor

The sun is shining today,
it feels as if it's the first time in weeks
I'm sitting outside of a cafe
just taking it all in.
It's spring break for the public high and middle schools
and seeing children running around downtown
unsupervised and smiling
makes me miss the simplicity
of just being a kid,
but try as I might,
I'm not a kid anymore
around this time next year
I will be twenty years old
which is pretty unbelievable

I sit in the midst of a sea of people
they ebb and flow like the tides
men on their breaks from work
their shirts opened down to their chest
a casual sunshine fashion statement
and the pretty art girls
with their pretty faces
and pretty dresses
walk on by
and I can't help but look at them
and smile to myself
like an utter idiot,
but I don't care
If you can't smile on a sunny day
when can you?

I left the windows in my apartment wide open
turned on the fans
and in an effort to symbolize
my victory over the winter
I turned the heating off
When I get home
I think,
that I will sit at my desk
and write
and be inspired by the sounds of the city
which ring out in a beautiful cacophony
of car horns, construction, laughter, and birds
it's sunny today
and no matter what happens
it will be a good day

And they were lost
among the TV commercials
and among reality TV
commercially it wasn't perfect
but it raked in enough
she felt out of place
in a world meant for less
he wished she wouldn't
wished she could understand
the need to experience
the others
the hurt
the broken
the lost
they were lost
in the pits
of the Minotaur
unsure of when
their yarn would run out
they were lost
in catacombs
built for great
Egyptian kings
They were lost
just like everybody else

There's this small diner
across the street from my apartment
a small segment of culture
suspended outside of time
they serve good coffee there
by the ***
and they serve cheap breakfast food
which is greasy enough
to absorb even the sharpest of hangovers
I was in there
the other morning
sitting at the bar
spending my last spare change
on that old diner coffee
and the people around,
the beautiful strangers
they talked and laughed or read from paper backs,
the man next to me at the bar
ordered a Budweiser in a glass
at ten in the morning
and you just don't see that as much anymore,
the waitresses had a strut about them
like they were straight out of an old New York movie
and the cooks in the back could be heard
laughing rambunctiously over the sounds of the kitchen,
it's a small diner
suspended outside of time
and it is a place you could get lost in
a place you don't want to ever leave

Thunder clap alarm clocks
keeping you up at night
your fingers and feet
keeping rhythm with the patter of rain
against your dusty window
the nights are of an unimaginable blackness
and the days are as grey as the endless stretch of city blocks
gravity is trying to hold your feet to the fire
and you cannot feel a thing
the answer isn’t in the lock and key
the answer is what you are willing to do
to open Pandora’s box
love is not something you can find on a page or screen
love is the moon following the sun
until the time comes again where they can meet
a beautiful eclipse
life isn’t a roadmap route with point A and point B
life is the story of how that map came to be
so torn, wrinkled, and stained
and the weeds fighting their way through gaps in thee concrete
lust isn’t a sin, only a way to cling to childhood selfishness
peace isn’t achieved through self-torment
peace is befriending the voice inside of your head
so that the thunderstorms might fade
to reveal a picturesque summer day
and you have to be willing to sit through the show
to see what’s behind the curtains
and I truly hope you have the patience

it's a curse
it's a blessing
unlike any other
to be so all alone
solitude is the key
and it is also the cell
given enough time
to work with ourselves
the visage shatters
and in each reflective fragment
we see the face of strangers
and old friends
flames past future and present
and oh,
now would you look at that
it appears as if human company
seems desirable,
no,
a necessity
but there's no way out of here
you signed your deal
a key
and a cell
right?
so you just go on
being alone
until you no longer have to

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

It was 5:30 when he woke up
a text message alarm clock
vibrated into consciousness
"still on for the beach?"
is what it read
but he wasn't sure
if his head was still on
yesterday clings to today
but promises are promises
made to be broken

so he met Kyle
at the beach house
down the road
they got beach chairs
and enough cigarettes
to make his mother faint

They walked to the beach
not another soul
as far as their eyes would take them
the sun bounced off the ocean
stabbing their eyes
discarded useless sunglasses
he climbed into the water
green liquid ice
virginal purity
which washed the slate clean
a long list of forgotten memories

I took a semester of college
the words of the professor hung limp
like dead fish on the river bank
for everything I was glad to learn
there were ten ******* credit lectures
and I never felt smarter
only more tired
and exacerbated at the world
I didn't gain life lessons
or wisdom
but I did drink and smoke a lot
so as a warning
make sure that college
is the right choice for you
and not just
a monetary drain
on the pragmatic western spirit

it's all alright
quit worrying so much
for just one second
you did everything they asked on the app
wrote your essay
brought it to the lady at the front desk who irked you so when she asked,
"You've never been abroad?"
you'll get in
walk through the door onto that plane
maybe a 767
maybe some other form of human packaging
mixing elbows and hips with everyone else bound for the country I once called home
it'll be about seven hours of careening through the air
seven hours an angel
Heathrow is crowded and a wave of people threatens to take you in their riptide
but you'll be better than fine
in the middle of all of those great buildings
I mean,
****,
it's London:
one of the greatest cities in the world
and if anybody should be there
it's you
and you might get lost over there
in all of the faces of strangers and opportunity
and that makes me happy
it really does
but at the same time
I'll be here in Richmond
good old Richmond
our Richmond
doing my best to be supportive
doing my best to walk the straight edge
between waiting and living
doing my best to get your face out from behind closed eyes
You're going to London
and I'm going crazy

on the hook
dropped the book
a series of blank slates
with the memories of tomorrow's yesterday erased
running in place
always away from the sins of self
dusty bottles sit on the shelf
lungs too tired to ask for help
waiting
stating
obvious choices
made out in torn voices
circle the drain
until you can make your pain
the name of the game

what if the story
of how Jesus
turned all that
water into wine
was actually incorrect?
What if Jesus
could drink wine
like it was water?
what if Jesus was
a total tank?
a typical wino?
the wine would explain
all the talk about love
and it would explain
all of his miracles
talking to voices in the sky
walking on water
sure you did Jesus

What if Jesus only
flipped the gambling tables
in the church
after he was already way down?
What if Jesus was a sore loser?
It would explain the coming back
after he was already executed
What if Jesus was just like all of us?
It would explain
the what would Jesus do
wrist bands

Hot ****
would you just
look at her
She walks with a strut
which seems to say
"Just ******* try me"
and she looks like she's
seen her fair share
of chaotic emotional explosions
and ugly violent church choirs
and there's something about her eyes
maybe an electric charge
but I can't look away
and I'm afraid to look into them
No make up
because why the hell would she wear any?
Not objectively perfect
but a perfect object to this subject
Strong females
just draw me in
because they got strong
after they were broken
beaten bruised and ******
only to get back up
and spit in life's face
overtly toxic venom
the way her hips sway with each step
her shoulders behind her
chin raised
I'd like to ask for her name
maybe her digits
but she'd tell me her name is
Unclaimed
and she has never owned a cell phone
but maybe tomorrow
I'll see her again
walking past me on Broad
or across from me on Grace
swaggering her way
into my heart
so she can stomp on it
with her stiletto heels
that would be pretty nice

her mouth
was a mouth
full of apologies
her forearms
are bruised
with misunderstandings
her mascara runs
with storm cloud rain drops
her brain
echoes over and over
you made me do this
Oh Daddy,
these dark rooms
can't hide me from you
her friends all just think she's clumsy
nobody thought to ask
nobody dreamed of it
she found an old .38
in a shoe box
under the stairs
it was cold and heavy
like every single breath taken
she couldn't **** him
she loved him
which is more than she could say
for herself
with a gun metal click
the calm before the storm
before the end
of all things
bang bang
she's dead
a lone bullet in her head
no more apologies
or misunderstandings
no more sad thunder storms
she was no more

The thing about growing up is
you never asked to be a grown up
in fact
you never asked to be anything
not even to be born
and yeah yeah yeah
I know
your parents gave you a life with potential
a roof
and three square meals maybe
but they also gave you
expectations to avoid resentment
to burn brighter
and maybe you prefer the dark
or to spark up whatever drug you can get your hands on
they would really like it if you were responsible
but it is that possible when the thought of letting people down
has you not getting out of bed until 1pm
I'd rather see you smile than frown
but this clown is running out of jokes about how patience kind of sounds like patients
and this bottle isn't doing the trick
and the tricks I work to make this all come together
now seems a whole lot less important
the apathy can sneak up on you
guerrilla commando trekking through the jungle of your doubts
it was one hundred degrees when I went to work
and storming when I left
****, did I forget to close the windows on my car?
are my phone, cigs, and lighter still breathing?
am I?

poetry started out as venting
became something more
something fingers can never quite grasp
the word always on the tip of my tongue
so I always lose the plot halfway through
and end up rambling like the drunk closing down the corner stool
do my words fall on deaf ears
or do they spark the ignition of emotional explosions
so big they measure on the Richter scale?
Time will tell
I only hope that by the time
time catches up with me to tell me
I will be gone
far away
off on my next big thing

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

Where are you going
walking down the street
as the sun struggles
to find a reason to rise
and trash skitters along the asphalt
being blown by the winds of wonder
I wonder when you will realize
realize that the second hand
is spinning too fast
and that one day
the clocks will all break
and one night
the bottle will run empty
and the mirrors won't break
and the knife won't cut
the gun won't ****
hammer
pull
so where are you going
we all say the road less traveled
but truth be told
that road doesn't exist anymore
and truth be told
we're too lazy to raise a fist anymore
and truth be told
I don't tell the truth
I just make you believe lies
but isn't that the same thing?

the change has been decided
I'm burned out
from too much ultraviolet rays
and hazy days
can't see for the smoke
that I'm going insane
I forgot my name
to escape from any pain
and I don't tell my loved ones
what's wrong
I just it put on the page
The change has been decided
it's time to climb out that pit
and get a grip
before I resort to something violent

because I'd rather be smiling
than waking up hungover
with a mouth like a fire pit
I'd rather be sober
but my head is split
I usually do the opposite
and end up doing dumb ****
The days last forever
I'm too bored to appreciate nice weather
and I've skipped all my classes
glued to my mattress
sometimes I move slower than mollasses
smelling like I need a shower
one too many night cap glasses
a classic addict
all my friends say
"It's just college habits"
it's tragic
but I'm trying to change my ways
turning all my lazy days
into work
I don't want to be the ****
who throws his entire life away
who needs it anyways?
not me,
the change has been decided

Drinking whiskey neat
ends up with sloppy drunk
sloppy moments
splashed out across our history
like paint brush splatters
everybody is high
because they are so low
and the room starts spinning
and spinning                     and spinning
  and spinning        and spinning
         and spinning
until
everythingblursintoeverything
and the night doesn't end with a bang
or a whimper
but with a jump cut
to a hung over next morning
like life is a movie

The mind is conflict
the human mind
is incapable
of truly grasping
the concept
of infinity
and yet
within the mind
the imagination
is endless
so people who say
they really know themselves
are liars

it's too late to call for help
once you're already underwater
it's too late to miss somebody
once the tide has already gone out