Long* time i didn't write a poem
Long time i've been *broken
Long time you didn't appear
Long time i didn't see you
Long time i didn't feel joy
Long time bad things appeared
And the good ones disappeared ...

I am sick of writing sad poems.
I want to write a happy poem.
My only problem is,
I don’t know how to.

I mean,
if I were funny it would be one thing,
but my humor consists of bad puns knock knock jokes.
Knock knocking on the inside of my brain wanting to push a smile onto your faces but the only look I get back is confusion because I can never seem to get my tongue to work in times of...
In times when a belly laugh would come from their abdomen and satisfy my hunger for becoming a comical genius.

Heres a joke for you.

Knock Knock.

“Who’s there?”

Orange

“Orange who?”

Knock knock.

“Who’s there?”

Orange

“Orange who?”



Orange you glad I didn’t finish my joke?
I keep my tongue dormant so the punchline doesn’t come out wrong,
to save myself from the embarrassment of being an idiot.
I’ll laugh it off,
but n my head I hear myself say.
“Max, what the hell was that?”
Listen, brain, I know I’m not funny,

I get my humor from either my dad or the internet,
and even then,
Tuna fish and pianos,
Oranges, apples, any kind of fruit really,
couldn’t even save me.

Three men walk into a bar.
I don’t know how they didn’t see it but that isn’t my problem,
my problem is that I am not funny, or a cool pal to hang out with.
In all honesty,
I’m pretty much a stick in the mud that wears hoodie sweatshirts every day.

So the next time I come knock knocking,
I advise you to shut the door.

If you're listening
the way you say you are
why haven't you heard
me calling out your name
like a wolf calls out to the moon?

Who are we without
the final piece that
complicates our breathing
and
completes us
completely?

I think about a lot when I get high. For example, I think about how pretty I think you are or how maybe I should smoke a little more cause I'm not as high as I was five minutes ago, but let's play this out just to be safe. I think about what it means to be alive and how, as bad as it sounds, can only appreciate myself in a positive way is after I smoked enough to incapacitate an elephant.

   I think about what it's like when we make love or how my nails are really short, almost bled to the stub cause I can't deal with my every day problems twenty-four-seven. I think about how I wish humans had super powers, that I could fly into the air like a falcon or pick up a car and throw it. I take a hit and then another, think about how gross **** tastes and smells but I love the after effects.

   I think about how I should get more sleep or how school makes me want to **** myself. I think about what it'd be like if dad didn't leave or if I suddenly grew wings...do you uh, think that's cool? I think about how we're all grains of sand and at any moment we could die. The Earth could catch on fire and we'd burn to embers, smoke rising.

(to be continued I'm too tired and high to finish this).

Addicted to diction,
With conflicting
Prescriptions
From competing
Physicians,
I'm dying from sickness
In the wealthcare system.
Our nutrition
Is based on
Corn-laced fiction,
Advertisement
Superstitions,
And a pill for every
Devised affliction.
We're born into life
Under welfare
Conscription,
And destined to die
From dereliction.
Make sure to vote
For the best
Infection in the
Next election,
As they raise
A toast
To their own
Reflections.

In my dreams, you still look at me like you love me.
In my dreams, you still kiss me like you love me.
In my dreams, you still act like you wanna see me.
In my dreams, you still talk to me.

In my dreams, I'm pretty.
In my dreams, I'm skinny.
In my dreams I'm rich.
In my dreams, I'm a hero.

In my dreams, dad didn't leave.
In my dreams, my brother isn't *******.
In my dreams, the ones I love don't leave me.
In my dreams, I am dead.

In my dreams, you will call me.
In my dreams, when I'm upset.
In my dreams, You will soothe me.
In my dreams, You still love me.