Today or tomorrow.
I'll never be able to tell you.
To be reached out for.
To see a hand appear out of thin air.
Seeking only my hand.
I've seen it happen in movies.
Where she looks at him.
And it's only him she wants to see in that moment.
That must be an amazing feeling.

To be written about in prose.
To be an infection on someone's mind.
So much so that they need a release.
So they write, or they call just to hear their voice.

Something else to be imagined.
Like flight. Escaping.
In one life maybe.

I don’t have to build her a castle, she won’t come out of the one she has.
High grey walls that loom over any chance at ever getting in.
Tapestries of blood and night rain down over the sides.
I want to wash her face with stained glass on a summers eve
Sleeping before the gates amidst the bones of those before me
She dances with the vapors of the her elixirs that warm her
Alluringly and whimsically luring me to an irresistible demise
The idea of love hushed silent by the fear of an inevitable fate
Now there’s only emptiness, a coldness that pervades
A sullen heart

From the top of the mountains that rest under Apollos feet.
To the deepest of forest where Artemis has been heard to sing.

The cliffs of Moher overlooking the remains the forsaken Mal.
And to the canyons formed by Paul Bunyan's axe.

Where ball lightening dances to where the Angel she falls.
And even where they ghost danced so that Miwok could sleep.

I've told them all so many times, you must've heard by now.
Surely tales have found you wherein you ought to be found.

Pan himself is tired of my proclamations.
My devil may care position on you sickens even Cupid.

So let it be said and let the darkness be ******.
Tell Osiris that I am on my way for maybe he hasn't heard.

One day these words will reach you and then you'll finally hear.
I love you.

I can't tell you which star is which.
Only because I don't know.
I can tell you how it feels. To touch one.
It's soft and warm. Think early spring.
That tingling feeling. Couple that with the good kind of nervous.
Never will my heart beat so fast whilst I remain perfectly at ease.
I don't care what we talk about. Just so long as we keep talking.
The mythology behind the blood orchids or Marie Curie.
If I fall asleep, I'll just pick up where we left off in my dreams.
I don't know where that river goes.
I know I can relate to it.
In so as it passes you by in this moment in time, as do I.
Though our time seems of length. Tis only a breath.
I am not yours and you are not mine.
Just as the moon doesn't belong to the wolf.
Nor does the wolf belong to the moon.
In knowing this. I will trade a thousand breaths to one.
If only that one could be spent with you.

Shatter me
As if dropping a spider
Smash my spirit against your wall
Test my will
If you will
Preserve this moment to memory
Before you make your attempt
Remember me as I am
As the storm rolls in
And this test of wills begins
Where you’ll find me here
Under the stars and just beyond your reach
Salted, baked, and thirsty
Be merciless in your verbality
I beg of you my darling
Only your worst will do
The joke is on you my love
I was already broken when we met

Sometimes.
I like to imagine the world drenched in fire and carnage. The woeful screams of the entitled ****** echoing through the once fertile plains of the Midwest.
As I casually stroll amidst the piles of decaying rotting flesh whistling to myself. The smell of burnt hair and regret permeating the air around me. Smoke and ash choking out the Suns rays letting darkness reign.
And then my show comes back on so I go back to eating my sandwich and watching tv.

You could sit down and write a thousand words or none at all.
And it would still befit her.
You could detail for the reader everything you know.
And then call it fiction.
Why?
She is love incarnate.

She asked “Did you take the trash out?”
How do I answer that?
I guess.
There’s still more here.
There are things waiting to be trash
There’s things that we think are things but they’re actually trash
There are things that I think are things but you think they’re thrash and vice versa
We’re eventually going to go out and buy things that will one day become trash
Then someone is going to take the trash and turn it back into a thing until no one wants that thing then it goes back to being trash
Perhaps it’s because we’re so used to handling trash
That sometimes we tend to treat each other the same way

And no, I didn’t take the trash out

I won't lie and say I trust myself because the truth is that I don't.
I will lie and say I'll be there when, but the truth is that I won't.

I don't know what you want from me much less to what extent.
Most days I just push it through when other days I'm spent.

You may or may not have said those things believe them I just can't.
It's hard to pay attention when my mind it starts to rant.

"It's all absurd, listen not, for these words we hear are lies!
She doesn't love you she doesn't mean it, don't look into her eyes!"

Alas though I'll hang my head, to look into my drink.
Thank Buddah it isn't empty, this scotch it helps me think.

The amber cloud of liquid courage I've captured in this glass.
Brings to mind I'm out of smokes and these thoughts can kiss my ***.

**** the truth there's nothing there but misery and pain.
To soak a soul in smoke and scotch lest he go insane?

The illusion that I'm living I think will suit me fine.
I don't know how the story ends so I refuse to wait in line.

No materials that I want so much that I'll sacrifice my time.
When I could be here hoping you are reading every rhyme.

Well I've sorted all my quandaries relating to this matter.
Whether or not they give a **** could only serve to flatter.

To know the truth will woo the ego or feed my self loathing.
Another lie to tell thyself a wolf in some sheeps clothing.

I thank you though for hanging out as I wrestle with myself.
Choosing which illusion to pull down from the shelf.

The shadows on her chest eb and flow like the tide.
With every breath she takes from me I watch her chest heave.
The candle flames dance, as if to garner her approval.
You're too late Hephaestus, tonight her heart is mine.

There was a time, she said to me not so long ago.
It made me think about the things I don't already know.

I don't know if she loved me, her feelings were unclear.
I can tell you how my hands would shake whenever she came near.

I don't know where the light is, I can't seem to find the switch.
I can tell what the dark is like, she's a vacuous soulless *****.

I don't know how to "love" myself, I can be quite the ****.
My apathetic nihilism is enough to make me sick.

I don't quite get consumerism, is this something I should know?
Buying **** that I don't need just to help the market flow?

I once claimed to play piano, the fact is that I don't.
I could say that I want to, the fact is that I won't.

So many things left unmentioned, these things I don't know.
Like lightening bugs and that crazy bioluminescent glow.

There is something that should be said before I have to leave.
About a certain someone I keep tucked up in my sleeve.

She calls me out and lays me down stealing every breath.
A demeanor so befitting it would puzzle even Death.

Of all the things that I know so very little of.
She would be the only one that I could say I loved.

She said "dear, inspire me", when the truth is that I can't.
It's not that I don't want to, but all I do is rant.

Some ******* here, a comment there, as if I feel I must.
I'm throwing around cynicism like its ****** fairy dust.

The fact is dear, there's nothing inspiring about me.
I'm mediocre when at my best, no reason to ever doubt me.

Oh sure I can tell you all about the mysterious Devils Kettle.
Or talk at length if you will about the Spinxs favorite riddle.

I know the Raven to and fro, but no one wants to hear it.
I can tell you if you crock that roast, it'll be better if you sear it.

I cannot grow you flowers or always make you laugh.
I can't even say you'll be impressed at my version of a staff.

I'm sorry dear I truly am, for my game is truly lacking.
My talents few and far between, I'm not even good at stacking.

I can keep you up for nights on end with what I know of Russia.
Or spit for you a thousand tales just one shy of Scheherazade.

See what I mean? That last verse barely makes any sense.
Kind of like that inferno opera The Pirates of Penzance.

I will tell you if I may, it's not entirely my fault you see.
For once you take up nihilism you may cease to even be.

I will tell you my good friend, that you are indeed my friend.
Someone there to read this **** and maybe smile at the end.

I can’t love you
And I can’t **** you
So
I’m going to drink this here poison
And wait for you to die

I figured it out at a fairly young age, there is nothing I want, only what I need.
But if I could have what I want? Free from the gluttony, the guilt, and the greed?

I want to know what, the where, when, and why.
The who doesn't matter, because everyone dies.

Its my desire to know these things that you don't.
Those things you can't know and probably won't.

Like just what was up with the loneliest whale.
Sung much too loud, no friends by his tale.

I'd like unlimited access to what the Hubble finds.
The **** you keep secret from blowing our minds.

To know what she's thinking, feeling, and ****.
So that I may know whether to stay or quit.

To be right on time for all the best sunsets.
Or to forgvie and forget all those ****** regrets.

To know when and where to see the northern lights.
A front seat next time the Komodo dragons fight.

To know if she's smiling, make the why optional.
To know if she's hurt, this ones unconditional.

And why was I where I shouldn't have been when?
And why the hell cant I go back there again?

How may I acquire a bioluminescent glow?
That one right there would be impressive to know.

Just how did I get her to despise me so much?
Was it the lack of presence, or the last time we touched?

What was the name of her favorite song?
I will learn this if it takes all night long.

It's raining and it's all I can hear.
I wish you were here.
I wish you understood.
It's raining here, it is all that I can hear.

Satiating my desire for serenity without having to abandon my mortal coil. This rain falls calmly, it doesn't look to erase anything. Only to replenish.

I wrote to you of my wrongs. Perhaps the rain bled my letter. The quill translated so many of my thoughts that night.
The black sweat of a bottle, traced feelings upon parchment. Erased by this cursed rain. I am held to its will and it to mine.

If she only knew
She is a galaxy in my eyes
A wonder to behold
Beautiful in her mysteries

A symphony of light and chaos
The longing to dance along side her
It is an ache sorely kept
A pain most coveted

Resting on an event horizon
Time stands still
The past, the present, and the future
Discombobulated moments entrance

Words not heard or felt
Lost in a vacuous void
Between her heart and mine
Too much time, too much space

Why we **** and the irrational logic that is ego.

      People really are the worst. No other creature on the planet is as unapologetically narcissistic, ego driven, and petty as we are. And it baffles the **** out of me.
      Let’s look at it from a logical point of view. You wake up in the morning and you think to yourself “I’m a person of fine caliber who deserves the undying love I get.” You’re not and you don’t. You’re a piece of self serving **** and I’ll prove it to you.
       You brush your teeth. You’re supporting a chemical company that tested the chemicals they used to come up with that refreshing minty taste on animals. A creature died so that you can feel clean.
        Your shoes were made by an uneducated poor as **** Malaysian child that sleeps on a dirt floor and hasn’t eaten in two days. But no, they look great on you. You ******* donkey.
        Your phone? That precious ****** device you use to keep the secrets of who you actually are. Those pics, those texts. The minerals used to make that phone were mined by slaves under deplorable working conditions. However, you need to get that ****** selfie so ole Ping Pongs stage seventeen cancer is going to have to wait *******.
        The oil burnt off by the giant ****** container ship they used to transport 90% of the useless **** you have to buy from Walmart? Well that kind of negates your eco friendly tampons, so no Janet you’re not doing **** to save the planet.
         Look. I have no problem with people doing as they do. But for ***** sake, own up to it. If you’re going to be a *******, stop ******* kidding yourself into thinking you’re entitled. Because you’re not.
         Ask nature. I assure you if a Timber wolf should approach you with the ability to talk. He’s not going to say “I ******* love what you’ve done with the place.” Tress are not going to hug you and birds aren’t going to sing to you. They hate you. Nature hates you. Because we’ve done nothing but hate **** her and ourselves at every turn.
         People know they don’t have long. They know their time is short. So they seek out the immediate sources of gratification. “Because tomorrow may not be here Jimmy so if Marilyn wants an interracial ****** *******. What am I as her husband to say?” *** Daryl?
         Hence all the pain we inflict on ourselves and others. The typical person will cut the throat of anything they covet if the right buttons are pushed. It’s inevitable. Even if it means cutting off our noses to spite our faces. A person will do it every time.
        That’s your reason to not trust a ******* if you’re looking for one. Not because of who they are. But because of what they are.
         People are hypocritical cancerous cells hell bent on the indulgences of our momentary needs. That’s it. We deserve nothing because our behavior doesn’t warrant it. We give nothing back in comparison to what we take and we’re as apathetic as **** about it.
         It’s always been the reason for my own self loathing. I feel like I should be apologizing to ******* Gaia every morning for what I’m about to do. I feel like I deserve every bit of pain I’ve suffered for the slights my mere existence has brought upon the world and other people. And.
        That’s what ****** me off about other people. Especially the ones that like themselves. The **** did you do? Cure cancer? You **** and you’re too ****** stupid to even know why. You’re not as nice as you think you are. Because I bet I can round up at least a dozen ******* from your past that would agree. And just by statistics alone, they’re not all wrong.
         We’ve all done our damage. We’ve all hurt someone. We’ve lied for our own benefit and there’s no measure to how far we’d go to secure that which lets us sleep at night. It’s what we are.
         I only ask that people own up to it. Stop kidding yourself into thinking what you get in life is earned or deserved. I can assure you that there is a perfectly irrational answer for it all. And it’s not because you’re special.

Do you even know what I'm thinking?
It's not to be contested.
And yes I've been drinking.
Enough to be arrested.

In order for you to teleport.
And this you can't avoid.
Your consciousness we must import.
Your body gets destroyed.

Your character we'll scatter.
To places far and near.
For a moment you won't matter.
Until you reappear.

Though here I am to warn you.
Things may seem a little out of place.
See they have to reconstruct you.
And you're still carbon based.

They'll upload your very being.
Right up in this new you.
You won't believe what you are seeing.
When you step out on Timbuktu.

For it was but a moment when you were here by me.
Till you up and vanished across so many seas.
To hell with you you blasted ***** teleporting *****!
I'm coming for your *** when I walk out that other door.

Mired in a trance
The cigarette bites my finger
I hold it under the faucet until it tells me it’s name and who sent it
My mind is saturated with the thought of thee, I bite my thumb at you!
Flinging open these ******* shutters, hoping for a flirt and flutter
So I can squeeze the life out of Nevermore
Cursed reminder from the Nights Plutonian shore
There’s no fire here but every time you come waltzing onto my train of thought, my whiskey bottle becomes a little lighter

It'll never matter how I say it.
Or write it.
I could dress it up with lights and display it.
It still won't matter.

I could slay a thousand dragons and tell you jokes along the way.
Though your still hanging on the words someone else said yesterday.

I want to have your drink ready for you when you walk into the door.
To hear about your day and how it went down at the store.

I've cursed the moon so many times because it holds a thought of you.
And any love you deserve is probably years over due.

I am the ogre holding up the bridge if ever you should cross.
Time not spent within your eyes could be my only loss.

A million sunsets and all the stars could never hold a candle.
In trying to relate your attributes I'll probably never get a handle.

Think of me a fool if you will, for this I cannot change.
But should I choose your life or mine, I'll step into the range.

The softness of your presence and the warmth of your smile.
Is enough to hold me over for at least a little while.

Suffer the fools, the misogynist, and the others if you must.
Rest assured my wayward friend in me your heart can trust.

I’d hang myself, if only I could find the end of my rope
It’s tangled up in whiskey soaked thoughts
Everyday is a new measurement. Another step I don’t want to take
down a poorly lit hallway
I can’t see before me and I don’t want to look back
I do anyway
Under flickering fluorescent lights
Eyes squinting through stale cigarette smoke
Nothing
Always nothing

Thank you for the invite to your table.
I have nothing to offer you.
Therefore I cannot sit down.
I am not of noble blood.
In fact there is very little about me that could be described as noble.

I ask that you tell me what ails you?
Do you need something fixed?
A problem resolved?
A dragon to be slain?
Let me bring you its still beating heart.

My character is appreciative but undeserving.
I am the atrocity by nature.
A scourge upon dreams.
A knight for all the wrong reasons.
Look closely, you'll see my teeth marks on the dragons heart.

I don't blame you.
I'm not sure I believe in blame.
Do you remember?
No. I've done my best to forget. And I might say I've done so wisely.
Why?
It's not worth it. There's no gain to be had.
What if there was?
Gain?
Yes.
Such as? Nye, don't bother. As I've said.
What if what was could be again?
It can't. Because it never was. I looked into her eyes.
And?
I saw the world unanswered, I saw the same stars I saw the first time I looked up.
So?
I didn't see me.

Tell me a secret.
Tell me about that time.
That place.
It's ok.
You can trust me.
I'm going to assume you're lying anyway.

You know what it's like?
To be tortured of mind.
To have all these thoughts.
To feel nothing in kind.

I taste only ash.
No longer I smell.
For the scent of rain.
My soul I'd sell.

No reason to cry.
No reason to smile.
No logic to suffer.
It's been a while.

All night I think,
Of where I went wrong.
What brought me here?
Was it her or that song?

What difference it makes.
Apparently none.
Am I already dead?
Is this life done?

Did you see?
Do you have it with you?
I do.
I take it out and look at it.
When the night is at its coldest.
When the batteries have gone dead and the music has stopped.
I unfurl the tapestry of that moment.
I hang it up in the back of my mind.
And I watch it play out.
The colors surrounding.
The silence in the air.
The smell of your skin.
It was an all encompassing moment.
A warmth unforgiving and a softness too rarely felt.
The day I kissed a hummingbird.

Forgive me my tresspasses.

Only because I have no one, no where else to vent.
I have a gf. She insist she loves me. I've had a few others in the past say the same thing. I have never believed them/anyone.
I'm not sure why. I don't know if it's because no one has ever met my definition of love. Maybe I'm dead inside. I have no idea.
Sometimes someone will do something nice for me. I'm not sure what that is all about either.
I can wrap my brain around the concept of a black hole. But for the life of me I will never understand this love thing.
I know how I feel about certain people. But I can't say they feel the same way. At least not with any certainty.
I just can't imagine anyone feeling for me how it is I may feel about them.
I'm not crying, *******, moaning what have you. I'm just stating the fact of my confusion when it comes to how love is supposed to work.

To write you what I'm thinking
would be nothing short of forced.
Words of wit and wisdom
adamantly coerced.

Albeit about the moon
or the stars to be admired.
Amber rays of sunlight
and those things so oft desired.

Hummingbirds aloft in flight
remind this knight of thee.
Alas my heart sinking
in the eyes of an emerald sea.

Or could it be what it is
a mutually assured destruction.
A simulation of our own design
our perceptions in construction.

So there it is I told you so
my wording lacks in flair.
When I all ever wanted
was for you to know I care.

I can think of no comparable rapture than a electrical storm.
Power, chaos, and fury moshing it out and the earth is their pit.
It's like watching three brothers fight for the front seat.
There's so much passion condensed into a small area.

Ages ago I'd climb into the safety of my car and drive.
Once I reached a spot void of light pollution I'd **** the engine.
Just to hear the rain hammer the roof of my car.
To feel the power in the air and watch the streaks of light.

I'd think about life or the lack thereof and her of course.
The darkness enveloping the turmoil that lie unseen.
A certain beauty to the chaos if looked at from just the right angle.
Though unlike the other dogs. I stayed behind to finish the game.
The storms just never scared me.

So what if I lapse?
I'll catch you.
When I fall?
Yes.

I've fallen before.
You will again.
You weren't there last time.
Wasn't I?

It's getting darker.
It usually does.
What'd I do?
You feel your way through as you have before.

They told me it's always darkest before the dawn.
And then they told me all hope was gone.

They lied about the dawn and they lied about the hope.
Tis too soon to hang thyself by an apathetic rope.

It lies in my perception these answers that evade.
The world I see around me is the world I have made.

And when I look inside to my blackened rotting heart.
Standing there before myself, to see my ego fall apart.

I'll find the hope that springs eternal as I've heard them say.
I'll clinch my teeth and gnaw the bit until my dying day.

I don't need you there to catch me if ever I should fall.
And should you say my name in the dark, I may not hear the call.

Rest assured my weary friend for there will come a day.
Until that time my trusted friend there be demons you must slay.

This is the story of Fitzy McKowski Obromovich Brown.
He lived in a brownstone in the center of town.

There was a young lady that Fitzy did favor.
Every meeting they had, he made sure to savor.

His friends would insist that his love wasn't right.
But ole Fitzys resolve wouldn't give up the fight.

They said "Fitzy you're slow and a tad too dumb."
And to all their pleas, Fitzy grew numb.

She was too witty too beautiful to be but a thought.
A future barstool story, a what if and ought.

So Fitzy got dressed, he bought flowers and ****.
He found her and asked her lickity split.

They watched Fitzys chin drop down to his chest.
His friends would give Fitzy a wide berth to rest.

One old man hobbled up to ask her why she'd turn ole Fitzy down.
"Because my name is Francesca McKowski Obromovich Brown!"