I thought I was a hole
before I met
you

and when
I did

I was filled.

Then
you left —

I was empty
again.

I wasn’t a hole,

never was,

but a
cup

waiting

for someone
to fill me.

You were the light
of my life —
now you're
gone,

and it’s getting
dark

here.

I don't think about you anymore —
like an over-washed
shirt.

Faded.

Dull.

Stained and
torn.

Worn out.

Tired.

Used through time, and
used from
use.

I've used you too many times.

I’ve revisited your memory too much.

I'll keep you in my closet

like my worn, tired
faded
old shirt,

hidden, until there is
nothing else
to wear.

It is too late to turn back
now.

Fate
won't track you down.

Happiness ends
with the pronunciation of
*****,

I learned that
in third
grade.

I giggled as the word
left my
throat

Today I take it
as a sign

that happiness

has always
been a joke.

The mask you
wear is
always on —

Your entire
life has
become a
costume
party,

and the
party
is

over.

You leave
my mind often, which is
sad

because it
gives you more
chances

to come back.

Life was beautiful when I
thought you
were.

She never came
back,

and I'm down
now

in the cracks of the sidewalk
she walks
on.

You're not her,

and
I wish
you were.

How will I ever
tell you
how much I missed you

if you never
come back?

the drugs
don't work
like they used to.

i used to feel numb,

now
i hurt
whenever
i think about you.

i hurt

there is no one like you, and
there is nothing like the first.

I speak
in black and
white —

I think
in color.

I think I need to
move, not
on, or
away from

anything

not fast, or
deliberately for

something

not past, or
beside

someone

I need to
move

because
I haven't in so long.

My life is a city street
and you
were my favorite
red light.

I'm not sure
what I'm looking
for,

but
I know
I won't
find it here.

It withers

near a bare
tree,

under skies
filled with
gray.

It withers

with tired petals
amid dullness, and

rain.

I see it wither

here.

I see what

remains.

Poor haggard

thing

with no place to
go.

I see it wither here

without
ever seeing
it

grow.

The problem with money & drugs is there's never
enough.

Too much is not enough.
Too little is not enough.

I have a problem —
money & drugs

but
my real problem isn't
money & drugs, or
too much and
not enough,

they just keep my mind from
the 'problem' that is

me.

Most men I know talk about
cars they'll never
own,

jobs they'll never
have,

and

women they'll never
date.

My love is a desert and she is there
kicking up dust.

I am
so
over you,

and I am
so
good
at lying to myself.

Antidepressants are
painkillers for
the soul.

You're gone &
if you
change your mind,



I'm still here.

She said,
“Be a fountain, not a drain.”

I said,
“Fountains make good wishing wells.”

Poe(try).

Women are like cigarettes.

When I'm finished with each,
I think about the other
while I stare at
their butts . . .

I won't force
you to

hear me.

I won't force
you
to

listen.

I have dreams bigger
than this tired town

A waste of space, and
a waste of
lives

A waste

of dreams to ever
leave it.

My ability to
cope

depends on
how many of these
**** pills I can
keep shoving

down my
throat.