When the thunder collapses like my grandfather's love,
there's no one that can hate me more than I do now.
As the lights begins to stain and drain my eyes,
there's no one that can hate me more than I do now.
Skeletons fell with the sea shells in the air.
I hope I'm falling asleep.
To no longer be here
is to be fair to everyone.

Art gallery in my head,
where the paintings hang above
polaroids and used condoms.
Where it's okay that I'm there:
the picture of a *******.
Where it's okay to love me.
Where it's okay to be me.
Where it's okay to know me.
Where it's okay to be me.
Where it's okay to get close to me.
Where it's okay to be me.
Where it's okay to believe in me.
Where it's okay to be me.
Where it's okay to be me.

In 2003 I was molested.
I want it to be okay to be me.
I detached myself from lullabies
and sorry eyes, only to realize:
I could have been dead in March,
right before the summer glows
and everyone would know
It wasn't okay to be me.

Why did you have to do it
My flesh tastes tainted,
and my eyes are painted
with the disgust of distrust
and the disgust of your lust
that corroded my body
and ate my blood
Am I any good
I want to be good.
I want to be pure.
I want to be more
than what I am.
****
There's acid in my veins
There's ******* acid in my veins
My body ******* shakes
Even when in love, I shake
When I'm safe, I shake
Am I ever safe

God isn't real, and neither am I
I am about as real as the dream I can't even buy
My talent is irrelevant, my past dictates my decisions
My love is the only redeeming quality,
and even that lacks precision.
I want to be perfect. I'm sorry that I apologize for anxiety;
it's not so much that I'm asking for forgiveness,
I just want to hear that there's no need to be sorry,
because it's okay to be me.

Oh. Hey, my eyes are watering; isn't this cool?
We're all having fun. Yippee.

The sun bursts rays, and there are twenty-three different ways
to stay alive inside when I'd rather hide from the sun's naivety
Searching for warmth on the walls with blistered palms,
as I lay in bed, naked. Removed of clothes and hope.
Blood in my mouth, new starters with broken shoelaces on the floor
Dreaming of different places. I said: dreaming of different places.
Cryptic words. In other worlds. In fire, I learned to drown.

A-B-C-D-E-F-G
Reentering the room, drunk.
H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P
Hide behind the bloodied bunk.
Q-R-S-
T-U-V-
W-X-
Y and Z
Now I've learned my lack of harmony,
next time won't you spare me, please.

Roses fall from the ceiling. There's no way I'm feeling.
Detach yourself from this room, this nation, this planet.
"You're too fragile to talk to, Josh." Thank you.
Don't allow yourself to ever be hurt again.
Regain your focus after I count down from ten.

Ten.
Reasons to stay alive.
Nine.
I want to live, I don't want to survive.
Eight.
There's nothing about me that anyone should hate.
Seven.
There's no god, but right now, I can make my own heaven.
Six.
I detached myself from lullabies and sorry eyes only to realize I love you.
Five.
"You're still there, right?" Dial tone silence, followed by fist to wall violence.
Four.
And to know you, is to know everything.
Three.
Adaptation without reclamation I find you in my translation
as hurt yet elation.
Two.
I want to make love in love. I want to die and donate a part of myself;
my backbone, lack thereof.
One.
When I fall asleep my eyes meet yours.

Intermission:

Do you like hurt? Do you like pain? Is a happy poem not your game?
Well, read a poem by Josh Haines and never look at him the same again.
And don't look at yourself the same, because it's okay to be you!
For the price of absolutely nothing, you can look at his words!
Wait, and that's not all! Validate the 'beauty' of his words by
touching that heart and making it red!
Make it as red as the bloodied bunk that stained his back and heels!
Only for the price of absolutely ******* nothing!
Hurry, though! You only have until the end of ******* forever, so act fast!
The number is
1-800-I'M AVOIDING A LAWSUIT LIKE I DO THE PEOPLE IN MY LIFE

2nd.

Hey, do you like your parents?
Yes!
Trick question. Do you looove your parents?
Yes!!
Do you like seeing your grandmother in a wheelchair?
Yes!
Do you like being hurt by the people that you care about the most?
Yes!!
Then grab some popcorn and cola!

End of Intermission.


Trying like you're crying at the end of the film that documents your life
To divide a knife into your skin like it's a sin to feel this way
I just couldn't take it, bones in the corner of the room.
Inside a skeleton's eyes, flowers bloom.
Chicka-yay-no way. You swear? You say:
Ti-ta-time is on my side, but that's not how it feels inside.
An internal measure of the pressure of the world
and it's bound to run out like the sand in my hands
at the precious beach that would **** me if I stepped
into the blue, for me and you.

Let me turn back time to when I first met you.
Don't be afraid.

I remember everything. To never forget, is to realize every lie,
smile at every face, and to remember every goodbye.

I hurt my hands, I need to talk to you on the phone.

My insomnia lives off the thought, that I hurt you.
The room is blurry, and I'm sorry for being cold.
I am warm. I have the sun inside.
I guess I'm just afraid of burning you with it.

The drums pound into rhyme,
Diamond casualties
Rewind, wound, rewound
To scratch the surface
until there's nothing but sound.

I think about the words that have been moving with the time
Directly intersecting at the center of our minds
To know that we as people will be couriers for life
Could have us feel a burden we would rather not invite
And that's when something happens to the rest of all the world
When sleep becomes elusive in the eyes of boys and girls
And just because they're open and the pupils are intact
Does not mean they are learning how to properly react
The fight to have a voice should not put blood upon our hands
And if you stop to listen you'll begin to understand
The universe's song does not belong to anyone
But if we sing together then our work here will be done

welcome to the city.
time moves differently here,
you can feel your bones shifting.
that Harmony is elusive
and gone in a flash
but Tedium overstays his welcome,
bringing with him
the lovely child, Ennui.
a plain face,
a plain heart too,
the same as the rest of us.

I want to die.
not really, maybe,
it's more of an occurrence,
a spark in the mind of a lonely wedge
of sour flesh.
please don't worry about me.
nothing is wrong
or right, I suppose,
it's just the consciousness
that comes from being with
my friend Monotony.

I know what's out there.
I know that there are things
worth living for, wonderful things
but they aren't happening to me, are they?
I have to keep my feet planted
as the planet turns.
this dead city,
I've seen it all before.
it's nothing new,
it's nothing new,
I spend every day
in a dirt-filled hole
while they shovel more
onto me.

welcome to the city.
everyone leaves here
eventually.
I don't want to die,
or at least, I don't think.
but when bones crack like sticks
in a muddy pool of blood below
and we're all scratching at the door,
(or maybe it's just me),
it's hard to think
that it's worth it.
I don't want to die,
but occasionally
it seems
like the best option.

there's a drought, maybe
and it finally rains.

we were thirsty and thick-headed
and relishing in dry fields of wheat
running through the weeds
and burning our skin
on the rough edges.

all the rough edges.

dear stranger,
I knew you in the trees,
in dissonance,
in the lights in the dark street
as you view them
through a rain-streaked bus window.

it's rained here before.
we have turned out all right.

a long time ago,
I wrote something under my skin.
beneath the layer you've touched,
beneath the parts that burned.

I wrote:
"you are to be art for people to look at,
the kind that people admire quietly,
not the sad kind,
not the kind that makes people think."
and I haven't forgotten it.

I fail to remember
that you're real sometimes,
that anything is real.
pull me back into the circle.

every light is the sun.
every sun is another lamppost.
you are the light.

the city burns at night.
I see the glare of the flames on your face
and the world is still.
the rain is nothing to worry about.

A cigarette after ***
  gets old
when it's the only thing
  burning
in your world.

When Netflix feels like
  family,
you wonder where
  everyone went.

******* feels like
  a cry for help--
So help you God.

Missing your home
  is second
to missing who
  you once were.

Eastern philosophy,
Karl Marx, Rawls--
We don't know
  any ******* thing,
really.

Pretending to be more.
Pretending to be smarter
than we really are.

May holes in our sides
let others see
that we're beating, too--
just not as ferociously
or as honestly.

May we vanish
into the darkness
that best suits us.

If the light is our night,
may we follow it.
Follow it...
Follow it...
Rebel from our frame.

May God grant us
to be more
than losers.

I want to be buried
beside the river
that drowns you.

-

The way the sky sits.
Our sleeves
wrapped in wind.
I kiss your lips.
You are my end.

-

Sequins and swans
on the dress of
the universe.
I want to be warmed
by the galaxy's grasp.

-

You are my water:
You move beside
and against me.