Have you suffered?
I mean drunk in the rain at two in the morning crying because you haven't eaten in four days and you can't find your dog since you left the door open in the intoxicated hopes that she would come walking back into your life and tell you that you aren't as crazy as you think you are?
A physical pain so agonizing you start scanning the room for tools to aid you in taking your own life but you lack the strength to get up so you start shredding a pillowcase into strands to tie around the doorknob but it rips.
A loss so profound it's as if a boulder has been placed on your chest so that your arms could be ripped off more easily to keep you from trying to hold onto semblance of life from that point on, that could compare to how it was before you lost that person but in reality you don't care because the light has been ****** from your life and you know that your days will never get any brighter than they are right now?
A betrayal? Someone you coveted above everything else in your life just curb stomping everything you had held so close for so long you assumed it was indestructible? A cut to the very core of something you had long held to be something of quality, value, and longevity?
I need to know you suffer.

I went away
One fine day
To find you
Never there
''Twas a dream
It would seem
To think
That you would care

I'm not sure what I came here for.
Are the likes and views for keeping score?
Am I here to appease the masses?
To see if they'll toast me and clink their glasses?

Perhaps I'm here just for me.
If I keep writing perhaps I'll see.
That maybe what you said was true.
That I should write for me and not for you.

The fact is, I don't write for us.
My words aren't even worth the fuss.
They're merely the results of a mysterious need.
A task, an urge, a dastardly deed.

I guess the point I'd like to make.
If even only for point making sake.
I'm not writing for likes or even I.
It's just something to do until I die.

If I were the king for but a day
I’d tell the knights to hurry
To rally behind my bannermen
As their squires squeak and scurry

We’re not going for the dragon
For he’s done nothing wrong
He took some cattle I don’t care
We’re not fighting for that song

The song they’ll sing for us my men
Will be sung for a thousand years
It’ll echo throughout great halls
And bring the strongest of them tears

Our ships will cut through the seas
Our shields broad and strong
Our horses are all well kept
Our spears, sharp and long

We’ll **** on every mountain
Our **** will raise the seas
We’ll tread the soul of every thing
That would bring Gaia to her knees

And when our names are uttered
Through the quivering lips of cowards
And the winds carry our names
To the ears of those in towers

They’ll sow their hands in vain
Wringing for a savior
They’ll try to buy us off
They’ll display their worst behavior

As your king I command you
Set alight these soulless pillars
These temples to depravity
These ****** and these killers

Pour their gold into the streets
Let the paupers get their share
Take only with you what you need
Leave the excess where you care

Let us start anew
As my reign comes to an end
Remember here what happened
And write of that my friend

It doesn't matter how I write.
For whom, or when, or why.
It only matters that I write.
Until the day I die.

I was wondering just what it is that keeps me up at night.
When I could be deep in slumber and walking towards the light.
I asked my cat just sitting there, looking dumb but wise.
She licked her paw, wiped her face, and slowly blinked her eyes.
Staring deep into the night and there I thought I heard a sound.
Not a call, not a song, but it moved along the ground.
"Who goes there?" Who says that? This isn't 1542.
"It's just the Devil passing by. What might I do for you?"
"Devil. Ma'am. Might I wonder just why we're made to suffer?"
"And might I add, please don't answer "it's meant to make us tougher""
She lit a cigarette off her finger and performed a little curtsy.
"So let me guess. You got to thinking that it is I who has hurt thee?"
"Listen here you wayward lad. One who suffers of his will.
It isn't I who hath poisoned you. It isn't I who made you ill.
You suffer cause your human and you only want to love.
This curse you carry with you was cast by him above."
She then licked her crimson lips and gazed off toward the east.
She set out to slay the sun, for to her, it is the beast.
I finished off my whiskey and then I made my way to bed.
The sight of her eyes, those deep green eyes. Residing in my head.

I could tell you you're  pretty and buy you a dinner.
You could tell me I'm funny but wish I was thinner.

We could talk about feelings, closets, and fish.
We'll walk by the fountain and each make a wish.

Your wish came true and I lost twelve stones.
And so I wished, to make a cage of your bones.

I brought the cage home so I could set it aside.
Then I took out my heart and locked it inside.

And there by the moon it sits on my sill.
And there by the moon it resides there still.

There was smoke in my eyes.
I gathered too much moss.
The sun was in my eyes.
I couldn't hear you over the music.
There was traffic because of an accident.
I overslept.
I've only got two hands.
I didn't know what to say.
Can I try again?
At life.
I promise I won't **** it up,
again.

To be honest
It’s ****** twisted
The things I listed
The reasons why
I love you

Though to lie
I’m ****** wrecked
When left unchecked
The reasons why
I hate you

I met a girl who wasn't there.
She wasn't there yesterday.
She wasn't there again today.

I met a girl who wasn't there.
I said I loved her yesterday.
Then I asked her to go away.

There are these days. They stain our memories. But in a good way. In January, when winter is catching its second breath and the night is as clear as something that just happened. The moon scours the landscape like a spotlight looking for its love.
Or the fall. Mid October. Wading through drifts of dead leaves. An eerie reminder of mortality birthed in a sunset of colors and cast down by time.
It's these days that come to pass, I try to give them meaning. If by no other measure than my own, I worry their fate of being forgotten. So I do something out of my ordinary routine. A bookmark of sorts. Because perhaps I spent that day with you. I fear nothing more than having woken up one day and not remembering you.

I get drunk,
and I think about you.
I get high,
and I think about you.
I get sober,
and I'm still thinking about you.
Seems the only way I'll ever be able to stop thinking about you, is if I get dead.

I want to give up and put down this pen.
To turn back time and begin again

Another chance to compose this rhyme.
Perhaps I'll get it right next time

There's no doubt that I am simply broken.
For me in this life there is no token.

So lay me down and strike down a match.
Let the fire reign and close the hatch.

And perhaps the gods will grant a new life.
One with more love and a lot less strife.

I’ve written over a thousand poems.
I’ll probably write a few more.
Maybe I’ll stop tomorrow. Or maybe never.
I’ll write a letter to Death and ask her for more ink.
If she tells me to use my own.
Then I’ll write shorter poems.
But I’ll never stop.
Not until one of those poems hits its mark. And her heart weeps out of joy.
Not until it’s so beautiful that she cradles it like the starlight in her eyes.
Then and only then.
When she realizes just how much she means to me.
Will I ask her to do **** stuff.

You’re standing in line to get a coffee
and some lady is speaking Spanish.
You can’t believe your ears as you order your favorite danish.
You whirl around with all the fury of a cat five hurricane
Because suddenly everyone should witness your obvious disdain
“This right here is America and in America we speak English
I should know, I’m from here, I’m a cunning linguist”
You throw a fit and yell at her as if you’re so entitled
Unleashing your opposing views your hatred is unbridled
But here’s a lil secret of which I’m sure you’re unaware
You could drop down dead right then and not a single soul would care
We’re just going to step right over you while you lay there huffin
Honestly I don’t care
I just want my ****** muffin
So you go on about your tantrum about how nothing's ever fair
I’ll just go to where you aren’t  and I’ll be over there

Merry Christmas Grandma,
Thought I'd fill you in on what's been going on here for the holidays. Since you can't be with us on account of you having your vaginal gout flare up again. Dad says it's just as well since you're not actually my grandma and really just some homeless lady I keep writing letters for. So I thought I'd huff whatever I can find under the sink and write you up.
Timmy had had another bad dream last night. He wet the bed and the Wolfhound that had been given to my aunt by her ex Snott, his name was actually Scott but he couldn't pronounce the letter c. Well it went crazy and killed Timmy. The Wolfhound, not Snot. My sister Tammy is pretty upset since his name had come up in her ****** Advent Calendar.
Mom took us by the prison last week to see Uncle Skinny. He's still in isolation so we had to yell at him though the drainage pipe in the back. Says he's doing well. Still eating skin every chance he gets but hasn't had a cigarette in four months. We're all pretty proud of him. We used a tent pole to shove some chicken skins through the pipe and wished him a Merry Christmas.
Our neighbors are having a dispute over Christmas decorations. Seems our new neighbors the Crowleys celebrate Christmas by going from house to house and screeching satanic verses into a megaphone whilst making their kids dance for nickels. Seriously these kids will not stop dancing unless you have nickels. Try throwing a quarter? Nope, they just dance harder. Nobody in the neighborhood is sure as to whether or not it's child abuse so we just collectively try to make sure we have nickels at all times. These people will just jump out of the bushes screeching and dancing. The other kids are afraid to wait for the bus in the morning.
Well in an effort to get them to stop. Our other neighbor begain having an affair with the wife in the schreechy family. My guess is he was going to blackmail her to get her family to stop screeching and singing. Well she ended up keeping the baby he knocked her up with. Turns out her husband is a cuck and into the whole thing. So now whenever you see them, they're pushing a stroller with his kid in it. His wife left him for her stepdaughter and they're making ***** films in Burbank. Daryl and I are thinking of trying to cheer him up by decorating his house for Christmas for him. We're going to turn a woodchipper towards his house and throw green paint and squirrels into it. Because he's always feeding the squirrels so we think he'll like it.
I found out what my friend next door is getting for Christmas. I saw his dad shopping for trampolines at the trampoline store in the trampoline district downtown. They have to perfect yard for it. They'll probably put it near the pool with the waterslide and the next to the rock climbing wall. Hopefully my friend will do more than just sit in his wheelchair and cry about it like he does every year.
Anyway. I should probably go clean up what's left of Timmy. I was supposed to do it hours ago but the dog has playing with Timmys corpse for a while. He shakes it around and flings it down the hall. Then he picks it up and runs around the house with it. Mom and dad will be back from their swingers party at the orphanage soon so I better get to it.
Tomorrow is Christmas. I can't wait. After I open my presents and have breakfast. I'm going to do what I always do. I'm going to stand in front of the Mosque and smoke cigarettes in a very intimidating manner. Once they come out to see what I want. I offer to scratch their ***** if they'll bring me some figgy pudding. It hasn't happened yet but I remain hopeful.
Have a Merry Christmas Grandma.
Love Billy

I can’t reach for you
It hurts to think about the last time I reached for someone
That should bring you comfort
To know that should you ever reach for me
My hands are empty

Am I supposed to feel regardless?
As to whether the sun finds me well or not.
Or if the moon should find me at all.
I ask you for nothing save this.
Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.
In what little time I have
That comes in like a soft breeze and curls upon a dune
Tell me a secret
Who do you want to love and who you do love
What that thought was you had that time
Beseech me with a memory I can tell the gods about
Something
Anything
To make me feel a little less regardless

How odd it is to be
That you would see in me
A reason to be
When all I see
Is you

I don’t feel alone because I’m alone, I feel alone because you’re here
So while I’m an expert on beer and scotch let me just make myself clear
Because in the morning, I won’t know **** including your name my dear

Nobody knows what life is, they’ll say they do but they lie
They’ll tell you it’s love, finding love, and some **** about the man in the sky
Truth be told, nobody knows, especially you or I

It’s like I’m running a race, and millions of people are there
We’re all running towards the sun, and they seem so **** unaware
And I can’t even have one minute, to show someone that I care

Just tell me you’re lost too, just tell me you know it’s a sham
Relieve me of all this ****** doubt while we drink and not give a ****
Cause tomorrow I’ll forget all this and we’ll have to begin again

You want the secret to life?
You know it’s all a lie but you go with it anyway because you’re tired and have nothing else to do.

She doesn't love me
But she does need me
If that's all I'm ever going to get
Then I guess that's all I've got.

Is who we are
Where we’re going
Or simply where we’ve been
Or are the details
In our actions
What we did and when
Perhaps it’s in our words
When we speak
Or when we don’t
Could be when we listen
And not replying
As we are wont
My guess is
Tis all these things
By which we are measured
Unto ourselves
Or by some god
What is lost and what is treasured

Pack up your bowls and check on your pockets.
Take out my eyes and stick your fingers in the sockets.
I’ve been your dog and I’ve played your game.
The least you could do is to call out my name.

Well the tourist have gone and I’m still standing here.
I know you can see that I just want to be clear.
So you have your fun until the rivers run dry.
And I’ll still be here because I believed the lie.

So just tidy it up and we’ll tell the devil we know
The moon is too high to have seen this show
Don’t say it first, don’t you cast that stone.
That dog is done dead let’s just leave it alone.

And now I’ll retreat to the back of your mind.
You could only hope that I would treat you in kind.
But it’s really not safe and there is no light.
Where I put things to suffer and out of my sight.

So trademark that **** and put a stamp on your thigh.
I’ll be smoking my dreams staring at the sky.
We’ll grease our thoughts and set them free of our will
Then we’ll bury their corpses out back on Blue hill.

Why then does it feel like something fated? This thing of ours.
When I don't believe in anything, much less fate. I find myself believing in you.

And yet you're over there. And I'm over here. And that's just the way it is.
Still though. Forgive me I'm compelled. To at the very least, know you.

It's a need. An insatiable desire to an end with a nature that eludes me.
To who's benefit? To who's damnation? Does this meeting serve.

Don't leave me with what could have been without telling me what it is.

You ever feel locked outside of yourself?
Detached from yourself, by yourself, for yourself.
Yourself.
It's a funny word.
Sounds like the name of a middle eastern shoe salesman.
I sometimes wonder why I don't have more friends.
Then I remember, me.
I'm the reason.
I keep you all at bay.
All two of you.
Just strolling around the ******* at bay.
It's not for me that you're there.
It's for you.
Take care of yourselves.

We're the keepers of each other’s past.
Holders of memories, long lost or stranded.
I can say that I knew you when.
That’s to say I knew you then.
Though you’re not that person anymore.
You’re not the one I knew before.
Tomorrow again you’ll be anew.
What are you going to do with you?

I like the idea of sitting in the car in the pouring rain listening to J Geils and smoking cigarettes
I just want to swim in you before your waters turn cold and cast me out
You’re a destroyer of dreams and a tempest of nightmares, a beautiful disaster
Sent to cure me of you, I was never really sure if you existed. And there you go again
White caps and dump ducks speckle the horizon against the slurry grey sky
I want to ask you about that thing you said but I know you don’t want to talk about it
So I’ll just wander the fields of my home and look for that dream I was sure I had
Where we were in a car in the pouring rain listening to J Geils and smoking cigarettes