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

Let's be honest people
I write too many of these **** things
for all of them to be any good
I know that the notifications from Harry J Baxter can get annoying
the only thing is
I'm not whole yet
and each poem I write
****** or great
removes a piece of me which is deemed
unessential
Pain is weakness leaving the body
*******
pain is the body leaving the idea of weakness behind
one minute
two minutes
three minutes later
I'm dealing with ten views and one like
which is fine
eat me up
I taste like ****
but I'm nutritious
that's for ******* sure
read my three hundred and something poems
and try to tell me you know my life
you'd still be wrong
working on working towards being completely honest
but a part of me cries against the crimes of obvious weakness
that's fine
patience is a a part of my best part
I can write ****
until there's no **** left to come out
that's the goal
aim
desire
I can sound similar at times
but don't fall asleep
this ocean runs deep
and is ready to explode
hold your friend's hand
a tsunami is brewing
and I'm in the mood to drown

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

I could stay with you
I could give myself to you
put my tender frame
in the palm of your hand
like a newly hatched bird
you are the only one
I could ever be vulnerable to
yeah
I could stay with you
but It would **** me
far too footloose
the curse of a nomad
with no where else to go
and it's not you
I hate myself for not
being able to commit
but I think I have a responsibility phobia
or a fear of letting you down
I don't know
and try as I might
I can't change
and I'm not sure I want to
we live in different worlds
and I don't know when I'll be back
so I'm going to leave you
and it won't be the last time
and if you were smart
you'd throw me to the curb
for good
and you are smart
but love is blind
all I have to give you
are moments
which I will always cherish
and bittersweet memories
to wash away
the pain of the day
I hate to leave
but trust me
I don't have a choice

If you walk into the coffee shop
where I like to work
or watch
you can look around
at all of the faces
and you just know
who the regulars are
with faces baring more years
than age would show
and five o'clock shadows
they come in with their shirts
not ironed and untucked
their fingers stained yellow
with everything they run from
people don't ask their orders
they just nod and sit down
a tribe of people with something to say
but nobody to listen

the rain comes to wash away the sins of yesterday
so that new life might bloom
droplets of water clinging to bare limbs
become paintings of flowers by the morning
and you could use a little rain right about now
head as heavy as your sleepless eyes
stomach as tight as your constantly clenched fists
at night you get lost within the trappings of your mind
a dark maze of funhouse mirror illusions
and you pray for relief
prayers which do not come with answers
so you you search for something to hold on to
just for a little longer
but these solutions are lead weights disguised as floatation devices
and those water wings melt beneath the unforgiving sun
you so tired
you so willing to let go
so willing to be saved by whatever arms may find you
the couch is laughing at you
the TV is egging you on
and that girl who just walked by -
I think her name is nothingness -
looks so **** good
that you are way past the point of seduction
another day goes by only to become weeks
to become months to become years
to become a life of “if only”

do not be fooled by those
who only profess wisdom in times of darkness
these wolves dressed to be lambs
these monsters under your bed
they are not your friends
a match is useless without a strike
and a blazing fire is irrelevant in the absence of cold and darkness
take these times and wear them on your sleeve
let them be the reason you shine so bright
so that you might light up another’s darkness

I knew this girl once
I think I knew her
but who can ever really know?
Nothing ever came of it
always too late
too scared
too scared that you couldn't want me
and who could blame you
I never have
She went away to college
and I was busy
doing my own thing
But I never forgot
the way you would blush
and hide your smile
when I said something nice
And maybe you never forgot
all the times I made you laugh
always something stupid
I remember how nervous you got
in the center of attention
maybe you never wanted it
but you always deserve it

And I know
that you're going places
big cities with dazzling lights
endless tall buildings
never sleeping
but dreaming of you
And I'm heading off
to places of my own
hoping that our trains
are heading towards each other
so that just for
one moment of disaster
my body may fly pas yours
and I would smile
or wink
or nothing at all
perhaps I would just look

The worst part about it
is I would throw it all away
so that I could get back
all of the too lates
the too scareds
and all of the stupid stuff
which I haven't told you
but you wouldn't want that.
To be held so responsible
for the machine gun rhythm
of my heart beat
So I don't
my time machine left empty
I trudge one
doing whatever the hell
It is that I do
while your star
only burns brighter
I live in a breath of hope
hoping to feel your breath
just one more time

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

You were standing there
so suddenly in front of me
in the dark, sweaty basement
where strobe lights broke through the fog like lightning
and digitally enhanced thunderclaps shook the support pillars
It was a surprise
you were alone
as was I
and in the midst of people seeking shelter in each other's bodies
it was only natural
I was the match
you the gasoline
lost track of time
then again, I was drunk
but I think you were too
But then we were outside in the cold
your arms wrapped around your frame
my arm draped easily over your shoulder
walking back to wherever it was we were going
we shed our jackets and made pillows
on our backs
shoulder to shoulder
I turned my head to the left and said,
"Nice to meet you"

how's it going Harry?
how do you feel?
I'm not sure if it is going
the hands on my clocks
haven't budged an inch
in a long time
how's it going?
I hide from certain thoughts
my mind
no longer a place of safety
an intellectual get away
the world has invaded
and taken up a residency
which I hope isn't permanent
My wallet has been empty for a while
unemployed
no degree
and I only have three cigarettes left
how's it going?
I can't complain
I could
but it would be useless

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

nothing in our pockets but dirt we picked up along the way
she carries a locket with her
and it’s empty inside
she says she is waiting for the perfect moment
to fit between the fake gold
old souls in foolish bodies
smiling because it was all we had
he drinks in the woods after school
because the lesson plan never quite clicked
so he’s all sheets in the wind
as the time bomb ticks
one looks for the love she was
convinced she never deserved to give herself
they are all looking for the next fix of life
experiencing the world in ounces, milliliters, milligrams
shouting protests into the mirror
he is running away from reality
until he finds the life which suits him best
he flinches away from touch and contact
with eyes glimmering with eye drops
nothing in our pockets
but the baggage we picked up along the way

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

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

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

once all the leaves have dropped
we stand eternal
like the dead
falling from withered branches
which once carried so much life
time has a way of taking these things from us
life
love
passion
hate
anger
Time is the great thief
time is relative
making everybody relatively
scared shitless
time is the relative
that the family merely tolerates
always on
and on
tick tock
tick tock
with two broken hands
wrapped in a ***** kitchen towel
I'd like to throttle
father time

freedom is a ten year old boy
who just got out of school
for summer vacation
and has a long plan
of climbing trees
and skinning knees

Freedom is sitting on the beach
as the tide comes in
and the sun sets
because you have nothing better to do
than wait
for the sea to lick your feet

Freedom is propping up in a hammock
with your favorite
beaten up paper back
listening to crickets chirp,
and birds tweet,
and watching fireflies ,

Freedom is finding that one thing
which encompasses you
so completely
that you couldn't imagine
doing anything else
for the rest of your days

Freedom is letting go,
letting the small things slide

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

it's rained all week
grey drop
after grey drop
the city is crying
the bums rush to shelter
in doorways
and under bridges
the people sit with their feet up
in their comfy sweatpants
and hoodies
drinking warm cups of tea
the animals
are out in the wet
grinning
and howling at the moon
drinking up the tears
of the crying city

Give me poetry.
Life splashed over
Blank page after blank page
Time over lust
Are you ready?

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

I've been losing my mind
When I meet somebody new
I question if they actually exist
Or if I'm finally
Completely
Bat **** bonkers

she taught me how to love
an angel from up above
who came by chance
to put my demons in a trance
to make me stop and think
to take it all in
like a drink
when I'm lonely it's her name I'm calling
falling
awoken from my dreams
her absence rings like screams
the only person who made me feel like
I could grow to love me
potential shining like a light
she told me what I could be
But I'm too scared to approach
too scared that
maybe I'm a cockroach
feeding on the fat
I can't let you in right now
I'm afraid I would fail
because I don't see how
I could give what love entails
she taught me how to love
but never how to forget

I sometimes feel bad for writing happy poems
or silly poems
or love poems
It seems as if people only want a pained poet
like a sad clown
they want tears to make themselves feel better
the selfish little....
but I grew out of my metal head phase
a couple of years ago
and I'm sorry to say
but sometime this life is just
positively ******* awesome
okay okay I get it
a lot of the time it isn't
but that's just as awesome
how many good books have you read
where everything went fine?
we're the stars of our own movies
sometimes we take issue with the script
or get ******* at the director
but ultimately
the performance is up to us
and at this very moment
I feel like Brad Pitt ******* it
so you may have to wait a while longer
for the return of the pained poet

I am like a camel filter
you know, the brand i smoke
you said that you loved the smell
but hated the taste
I'm a bad habit
that you don't want to start
because while i'm killing you slowly
I'll whisper reassurances in your ears
and long after your lungs are black
and you stand face to face
with death
I will still be here
looking for a new victim to poison

The wind blows through the trees
knocking blood, gold, and rust
to the concrete pavement
forest floors beneath a blanket of pine needles
to the side of highways across the country
no matter what
the wind still blows through the leaves in the fall

Gone are the times
when we feared
the monster in the closet
no,
now we fear
the monster in the mirror
these forehead wrinkles
where did they come from?
(Probably from a pack a day)
The cynicism,
when did it infect the veins
the arteries which run through
the hallways of our body?
Overnight we made the leap
from boys to men
girls to women
growing up
can seem like
one big ******* nightmare
but for every nightmare
there are numerous dreams
beautiful dreams
and the mark of growing up
is being able to see the choice
between living a nightmare
or chasing a dream

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

It's time to pack **** up
When that bad habit
Becomes dependency
When dependency
Becomes addiction
It's time to pack up
But I forgot my suitcase
So I'll take another beer

The clocks all struck midnight
but that’s okay when you work nights
for a pocket full of singles
and a paycheck which never seems quite enough
come buy the painkiller
the rain won’t stop falling
until you do
and at times when grey cloud curtains
part to show you that
heaven isn’t
you’ll be glad for that liquid encouragement
and those knee pads
because this parking lot is gravel
and that small lot will never be a park
where kids can play without stepping on
the shards of broken hail mary prayers
for all the times the hands pass go
and collect their 2000 sea shells
not much has changed

I swear to God
This girl made me feel like I was 11 again
at the school disco
back in *** **** England
asking for a dance
like a real gentleman
only to be given an eye roll
and a pair of freezing cold shoulders
She was standing over by the fence
smoking on a cigarette
looking as disinterested
in this party
as I felt
I asked her if I could *** a smoke
she said she didn't smoke
said that **** will **** you
then she took another drag
and blew a mouthful of smoke vaguely in my direction
well ****
isn't this a pickle?
because now if I pull out a cigarette
I'm going to have some 'splainin'  to do
but I heard the female folk sometimes
appreciate persistence
so fighters touch gloves for round two  
so what's your name?
I don't like guys who dress like that.
Whoosh Smack
it was a hay maker
I was down for the ten count
One last shot
did you know I'm from England
My Dad is Scottish.
well that was it then,
I was well and truly shot down
I'd just go and find a girl
who thought that my English accent
and my name
are "So cool,
just like Harry Potter"
how fun

these jeans aren't clean little lady
a months worth of nights forgotten still clinging to the denim
and no
I don't know what that stain is
but you keep twirling your **** back side
to the back end of the beats of this song that I don't know
and yes I do have an accent
came here tonight from all the way across the great big Atlantic ocean just for you
just for tonight
just for tonight let's pretend like we've known each other for a lifetime
no,
no costume for tonight
I'm a college drop out wannabe wordsmith with a tongue sharper than this wit
Mr. feet never been cold
I like my whiskey neat
and you look messy
let's take a midnight stroll back to my place
and yeah it's messy
what's it to you?
I don't like the way my bed feels when I make it
or when I hit it alone
like the voice in the back of your head
TV white noise
radio song stuck in your head
I'm a hard habit to kick
so keep kicking the game that your spitting out of your mouth like one too many shots
and I'll show you a me time

hit the road Jack
and don't you come back
no more no more no more no more
walking like a blind man
who lost his dog
hit the road Jack?
don't worry
I don't want to come back
how could I
this wasn't love
it was necessity
It was survival
and it was rightfully wrong
Don't worry about seeing me
ever again
the road is the only mistress I need
the dust on the cuffs of my jeans
tell my story
far better than any poem I pen
any song you create
So I'll hit the road
but with a love tap
never to come back
no more no more no more no more

the pile of books on my windowsill sits gathering dust
the pencils are swords instead of daggers
all the pen nibs are dry
the embers slowly starving
the smiles succumbing to gravity
and the grit's nothing but dust
if time is money
then we're in debt

One day at a time is the mantra of the sickly beggars I call my people
oh addiction, such a hot, edgy topic, look at you breaking down barrier after barrier
no not this one
this one's one for the people who took the road less traveled
only to realize nobody walks that path for a reason
the bushes buzz with flies looming over dumped ****** victims
women sell their trade for a feeling of being loved
and the monsters don't fear the dark
one day at a time
this will all be worthwhile in the end
the end.
it never comes really
you think it's just you? your ignorance makes me laugh to sickness
give me a runners high over a drug any day
like there's an actual difference between the two
like one hundred years from now we won't be sharing the same plot of dirt?
my awful lungs and liver and kidneys and heart
your slightly less awful organs
One day at a time
every day of the year
tally marked against white walls with posters of the things we took for granted
one
day
at
a
time
time to get up
it's a new day
roll the die
play the game
hope you get lucky
one day at a time

boys and girls
like oil and water
meet in the electric darkness
a ritual as old as time
set to the pounding
of mechanical drums
boys and girls
they don't see it
but they are each other
fatally flawed to perfection
and they see something
a spark off the flint
and they mistake it for love
because they allow each other
to love themselves
boys and girls
hiding from
men and women
try not to grow up
but a broken clock
is right twice a day
and they have run out of hiding places
their limbs burning
with lactic acid
they finally see
the toxic insignia
a skull and crossbones
no warning labels
this will **** you
so they separate
and you'd better believe
that it was ugly as hell
yelling and screaming and violence
all in the name of self-loathing
boys and girls
just looking for somebody
who is looking for them

A year ago I was sitting in my room
dropping out of college
I found a pen and an old notebook
which I got for my creative writing class
in high school
So I picked it up, unsure of what was going to happen
but I wrote a poem called in my dreams
without meaning to
Dude, poetry is gay
but It seemed I had a taste for it
a week later I was writing to drown out the sound
of my roommate fighting with his girlfriend
and the couple was born

I was a secret drop out
I even made up a class schedule
so I would go at varying hours on varying days
to any cafe which had cheap coffee and free wifi
and I would write these ****** little poems
saved in a google docs folder called
poetry
I used to ***** around on the web too much
stuff like stumbleupon
and I found all of you beautiful sons of *******
a strange old website called hellopoetry.com
facebook for those young or foolish enough
to call themselves poets
I was skeptical
I’ve never been a fan of other writers in my atmosphere
but I’ll be ****** If I didn’t fall in love
with the ***** old dog
I wrote and I wrote and I wrote
I may not have been the best
but you can’t spell prolific without pro
and when I finally hit
100,000 views
it was like losing my virginity all over again
only not as awkward and drunk

I’ve been pottering around on here for a year now
and every person who read my work
every angel which clicked follow
Got to see me bang my head against the keyboard
in dark rooms on even darker days
and they’ve seen some of my best work
definitely some of my worst
and I’ve met some genuinely great people along the way
I only hope that you all know who you are
So let’s raise a glass to the year passed
and celebrate
a bunch of wild poet… things
and here’s to another year
of weird little poems

people seem to forget
that for every "good" person
there is an equal "bad" guy
just like night to day
yet nobody thanks the sinners
they go on,
knowingly corrupted
self sacrificed souls
they challenge the good
to step up and hold them in place
the universe runs off of balance
so for every brilliant man
who killed without heavy heart
who stole, begged, pillaged, lied
I offer up a thousand thank yous
because if it wasn't for you
Jesus would have just been a carpenter
so keep on sinning
and keep on losing

A steering wheel is freedom
as much as another step down an
unfamiliar path laden with that new car smell
Headlights break through the fog
and we pass each other with a nod
and a raising of the hand
pilgrims chasing our own shadows
as the sun slowly fades behind
scarlet horizons
The ocean is calling me home
and I feel the oncoming wind
in each blade of grass
taste the lightning in the air
and feel the thunder in your
beating heart
the rain will come down in buckets
and we will dance beneath
our eternally blissful ignorance

"I shouldn't be drinking really,
my family is full of alcoholics
so I try not to drink"
It was the first thing she had said to me
then she downed her ***** cranberry
and smiled devilishly at me with her eyes
a demon girl for sure
best to keep my distance
but I'm coming down from the mushrooms
and I'm well on my way to being **** drunk
So I asked,
"what's your name sweet thing?"
and she smiled
and shook her head
"my lips are sealed"
then she kissed me on the cheek
fill up my cup
because teenagers and sobriety
haven't been on good terms for a while
and yeah it was kind of annoying
when you called me Harry Potter
but at the same time
I could already tell
that soon enough we would be sharing a bed
and sure enough
a couple minutes later
you whispered in my ear
"let's go to bed"
and we did
and it was my first time
and it was more than a little awkward and clumsy
and I'm sure it wasn't good
and to be perfectly honest
there were so many drugs inside of my system
that I never quite made it to the finish line
but I was relieved
because in high school it was a big deal
which I had finally gotten out of the way
and tossed to the side
to rot in the gutter
and I never saw the demon girl again
never even learned her real name
and if you asked me today if it was worth it
well I guess I'd say no
but deep down
I'd say yes

It's a nice day
Cool enough to wear jeans
Warm enough to wear a shirt
Mid sixties to low seventies
Even the Mosquitos don't bother me

Last Friday we were ******
Walking through the art district,
Looking at all the galleries
Listening to the music
And the street preachers
I got stopped by sister Michelle
She was a Mormon on a mission
Or something like that
She asked how religious I am
I said debate doesn't matter
I'll live my life the way I want
If somebody is watching,
So be it

We drifted off
Drinking their cup of free lemonade
As they looked disappointed
But the air tasted good,
**** good
And the energy was right,
One hundred percent
A+
And I went to sleep
Dreaming of broad street
All lit up and full of life
And I figured
Everything was going to be
Alright

She walked in from the street
windswept,
she had come close to breaking
everything in the outside
weighing down upon her
with every passing second
expectations
clashing
with reality
leaving her cracked
and those cracks told her story
with no falsity
it was plain and simple
and he traced the cracks
with his own yellowed fingers
smiling at her
enjoying the tale
enjoying her
not wanting to save her
or fix her
just wanting to keep her
keep her
as she is

Don't **** them with violence
because they will still win
don't **** them fast
because lord knows
they deserve pain
don't **** them with your words
they are too valuable to waste
on such ****
no if you really want to hurt them
then **** them with your smirk
every time they **** with you
raise a corner of your mouth ever so slightly
an "is that all you've got" smile
because everybody knows
you are stronger
smarter
better
than all of them
and it ****** them off
so **** them with smirks
and if that still isn't enough
well you can always just
**** on their graves afterwards

I am scared of the dark
not because I fear the lack of light
might let all of the monsters out
and will make the skeletons chatter
I fear the dark
not because it's violent
but because it's peaceful
not because it's chaotic
but because it's calm
I am scared of the dark
because I am left alone
with myself
with my mind
which can be the worst monster of all

The girl who played guitar
had me in the palm of her hand
from the moment she started playing
my hands began drumming
a rhythm on my thighs
which I didn't know
I was capable of

And when she opened her mouth
The songs which came pouring out
contained paradise
within each note
each syllable
and she sings with her eyes closed
just alone with the music
no longer human
but a vessel for beauty
I think that's what heaven is.

I saw her today
busking in the streets
and I couldn't help but grin
and go over
standing in front of her
throwing my everything
into her guitar case
I listened to every single
god ****** song
and before I knew it
Hours had passed
she stood up
put the old acoustic
back in its case
and left me
standing there
stunned

Animus,
(Noun):
purpose,
intention,
animating spirit,
mind,
courage,
passion,
wrath,
living rather than simply being alive,
it's my favorite word

whale ***** is in
every cigarette smoked
we inhale Jonah

stop taking things
so seriously
I mean,
I'm seriously serious
don't be
seriously serious
about anything
beause when it all boils down to it
nobody will remember
if I forgot the C in because
in some dumb poem

too drunk to blog
allow me to send my inebriated thoughts
ton the temporal lobes which halo your ears
I spend seventeen seconds spending spent time
on times spent wallowing in the too many you're the bests
genesis is failing
genesis is falling upon us
like snowflakes spent forgetting the times we forgot
I forgot to tell you
no matter how drunk I get
I will remember you
so let's regret the forgotten reasons
of reasonable men reasoning the realist responses
of people who forgot to check their phones
for the second time todau