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i got pockets full of pages i write out at night,
paragraphs and phrases
in my fists, tied tight

i got bundles of friends i can count on one hand,
want quarter pounds and ounces but will settle for a gram,

i could fill a wal-mart parking lot with lost memories,
and build a staircase to the moon
out of the broken pieces of the me i'll never be,

it'd be a wobbly mess of fear and grief,
and once it's done i'd be able to breathe,

i got a pair of brass knuckles,
made out of hate,
a million shiny blue balloons,
filled up with rage,  

need to tie them together and float that **** away,

once it's in the atmosphere the balloons will slowly begin to pop
slowly falling back to earth free of all they caught.

and there will be little James,
with the black tooth grin,
waiting to sink them teeth into whatever trouble he can get in.
- From Dishwater.
your delivery was flawless when you told me the news

like you’d been every inch of the seventeen mile hike in my shoes

you said

daddy’s dead

and it won’t be long son before you die too

so i grabbed my shiny forty five

took my coat off the chair and sighed

"it’s gonna be a long night for me too"

and i turned to look momma in the eyes

but she just hung her head and cried

"someday i know you’ll find truth"

so i kissed momma on her cheek and left

closed the door and headed west

stumbling, trying to shake these blues

i got an old leather jacket, almost all the nails to my casket

i keep in my pocket

just for fun.

and when I’m done deciding, I’m tired of lying

to myself

I'll grab those rusty nails

one by one           and  exhale

and hammer my blues away.
- From Dishwater.
get angrier now, there's no sense denying it,

force fed lies to ostracize little girls from buying...

free candy ladies. look over here, James has a pink truck and i swear he's not queer. ha.

i got bubble gum, i know you want some, yummy yummy in the tummy, stop right there I'll force it down

choke. digest. you didn't chew, see how it gets when you don't listen,

Jamison is a confectionery in the kitchen.

i can bake you cookies, just get down on both knees...please.

see i already asked you nicely, .... you know you don't want me to start shoutin' and get violent....girl.

i thought you were my world, how loud do you want me to shout it..

now your lying somewhere where no one can hear you cry

i never thought I'd see the day the cake baker took a life...

and i hard, what could i do, everything in the world reminded me of some cookies.

they're a little ******, but they're not bad, maybe mix it in with the batter the next time I'm mad.

it didn't have to be this way. you forced me to do it,

i am a baker by trade and now I'm covered in your fluids....

god this is gross, ... how am I gonna get these stains outta these clothes

start to choke.

looking at your ****** body.

the... the... the... cadaver is just laying there looking back at me


in my cookie shop I'm panicking...start to wonder how i got pushed this far

now all the cookies are burnt and crumbling.

gotta put those bodies in the oven.

recipes and sweets mean nothing when you don't have love

bake this cake at three hundred and fifty degrees...

just until the hearts inside get gooey and melt over me.

- From Dishwater.
i sometimes wonder what  it  would be like.

to slit my own throat.

how long would it hurt?

how long would the blood pour before...


i long to bathe in blood.

warm, heartbeat blood.

glistening and gooey.

stain me.


pour me down the drain.

like dishwater.

*****, and calm.
- From Dishwater.
i got this picture in my head ,

a dark labyrinth blue,

faces in the crowd,

but wait, then it's just you,

i see my silver erector set,

i can build you buildings when it's bright,

i see the leaves falling down, it's autumn out tonight...

i can see the sandy beaches,

and the line i drew in the sand,

though that was many years ago,

you still tell me to take your hand,

i see it all a little clearer tonight, than i did before,

but i was a ****** back then,

and i always wanted you more,

as the painting of the picture gets clearer in my mind,

i try to refocus on little things i left behind,

like the time way back in my mind,

when I thought the world was cool,

seventeen and full of everything but you,

I think I can smell your perfume now, are you walking in the door,

mom I really miss you now, much more than I have before,

little things like just talking to you,

you busting me when I was ******,

how you always told me I was going to be something great,

now you've left me on my own....

I wish you were here to push me **** it,

I'm all dried up inside,

no motivation to do anything except maybe write.....

I feel I have to leave this place where the autumns chill my heart,

leave the memories of you and make a new head start,

build a fictional past with my new beginnings,

and forget all that I've gone through,

but there's not a chance,

not even a maybe,

that I'm going to forget you.

I miss you momma.
so alone.
killing all the monsters.
shoe boxes and closets.
don't forget under the stairs
in my best friends coffin.

missing out on life cause I'm scared of death.
wanna die so hard sometimes
it's hard to catch my breath.

wanna try so hard sometimes i stumble.

gotta tie my shoes.
cause these monsters in my head are on the loose.


lost causes and empty hallways
remind me of even lonelier days.

when i used to sell that stuff for fifty a gram
when everyone had a hand taking
but no helping hands.

when everyone seemed to know that master plan
and now everyone sits with their hands in the sand.

use to wanna build dreams out of these sand castles
use to wanna go outside and wrestle
with these monsters.

ya they're all here.

chillin in my bedroom forcing me to dream fear.
and the worst of it all is i let them all in
the saddest part of my life will be when they win.

but I'm not complaining.
nah. me ... never.
i guzzle gasoline.
breathe fire.
I'm a fuel injector.

monsters, more like drama.
sad times more like commas,
in my written book of life i never asked to live
wanna go back in time and tell mommy not to have this kid.

too ****** up now it's time to escape
the monsters inside are flowin on the page
gotta pick 'em back up and take 'em home
with me and my poem.
- From Dishwater.
I want  to smash the face out of my head and spin it around until the room turns red,
I want you to know that i never cared about you or your lame game,
I want you to know your trendiness will only find loneliness,
I want you to know i love you,
I want you to know i need you,  
I want you to want me as much as i need you,
I want to die without you,
I'd like to cut you into pieces and eat you,
then you'd be mine....forever.
you make me want to throw it all in the gutter, and lick it back up again.
you make me insane.
I'll be great.....  without you. pessimist.
false friend.
I'd like to **** myself and blame it on you.
then you'd be sad.
I bet you wouldn't.
steel heart of emptyness and lost dreams.
you crave the weak to make you look stronger.
I'd like to say i never cared.
I'd like to say i lied to your stupid ******* face.
I'd like to say it all to you.
but you're not worth my breath.
my air is more valuable than your life, the life's of a thousand tyrants like you.
you all can die.
you will too.
i am the one.
that's stuck here.
in hell.
a poet doesn't live in here

just a hallowed wreck

woe is me ... all that ****

i only want respect

a blind man couldn't see him

so he thought he was a farce

stumbling down flashlight paths

taking to himself in the dark

whispering all the sick things  she would have liked to hear

screamed silent lullabies about the brutal world of fear

a poet doesn't live here

just a 17 year old's self esteem

little boy's riots and life-long bad dreams

i wanted to pain you a picture

dead bodies on trampolines

smiles on their faces...

know what i mean?

i wanna cut my heart out

black dead and cold

and give up what's left of

my shattered dustpan soul,

this whole thing for me

was like pulling teeth

slowly twisting one by one

and gargling gasoline,

a poet doesn't live here

he's all dried up inside

and summer's come

it's time for fun, no more time to write.
- From Dishwater.
I want to let you read one day
all about the blood
the chronic crushing ***** wave
and the whiskey flood

I want to rock you gently to sleep
and protect you from the plague
the sadness of the the day
I drown in the wave

I have a runny faucet
in the back of my mind
the drops just keep drip-dropping
filling up my time

I want to write you a secret sonnet
and wrap it up in lace
and every word I write on it
will remind you of my face

I want to let you read one day
about all the blood
the chronic pounding faucet
that's causing my mind to flood

I'm drowning in an ocean
filled up with *****
and now I've met a mermaid
that won't let me loose

I'm a sunken treasure
at the bottom of the sea
tied to an anchor
that won't let me leave

my jewels are really shiney
though you can't see from up there
it's hard to come all the way down here
without any air
- From Dishwater.
so sometimes I'm just right,
cold, calculating and perceptive.
and sometimes I can't make it through the night,
policing my thoughts and perspective.

But tonight is a night of freedom and purity,
closing the doors to opression,
spilling inpure and conformist thoughts,
and avoiding resurrection.

smoking and snorting and popping and coughing,
breathing, decieving, and barely talking,
focused now.
never later.
still breathing this atmosphere of pure hatred.

can't see past my hands in this tomb,
alone i lay and quietly consume,
every last one of them.
I've let them all go.
the part time, doin time, ebb and flow of cold.

growing old.

when I finally outgrow this taste in my mouth,
i'll be able to breathe.
when she finally outgrows me maybe she'll leave.
never looking back, always forward,
never late.
she quietly escapes the debate of our fate.
never look back kid,
cause your soul might turn blue,
tied tight with saran wrap wrappers,
duct tape and glue.

— The End —