There's a little mailbox off Broad Street that serves as a sort of library. You can take books out and you can put books in.
Yesterday, directly across the street from the library there was a sign on front porch of a house that read "free" and there was a pile of belts and hats and other things.

I want you to write about me but you don't know me and all I know about you is that you're not happy with who you are and that you write and that you're beautiful and disgusting and I am all of these things as well.

My mother has been pulling her hair out; she is losing a custody battle for my little sister, she lost her job and is living off welfare. I'm working two jobs because she asked me not to eat the food in the house so I do enough drugs I don't want to eat and punk rock music is always softly playing from my room, I can't stand it any louder.

My shoes have holes in them.
My gas light has been on for two days.
And I am happy.
The end is never the end,
I won't bother wrapping this poem up because it is not over.

1
The water crawled up
her legs like an angry fire.
Stop! For she likes it too much.

#2
Franny and Zooey
Speaks to me like no others.
Happy, yet so sad.

#3
It has been said, when
darkness comes light lives. Yet, all
joy dies as love leaves.

#4
Sound is a constant.
It is always heard. You can-
never unhear sound

#5
Up above the sun
it does not rain nor do they
cry for there is no sadness.

#6
I live again yet
The best part is yet to come
I feel beautiful.

And my body has ceased to act in the way I want it to.
My legs feel like rubber
and it's hard to concentrate
and my fingers move slowly.

But hey,
my constant headache is gone
and all the worries that clouded my mind are gone
and my back isn't sore.

Maybe
three more won't hurt.

What could be more perfect than rain?
What could be more beautiful?

It falls and brings life to wherever it falls.
It breathes life into this lifeless landscape
and allows it to breathe.

Rain is a gift from God
and I am sorry for those
who do not drop to their knees
and thank their god for rain.
Thank nature for rain,
thank the universe,
but you have to be thankful.

Rain refreshes,
and it soothes
and it calms
and I cannot think of anything
more perfect than the rain.

April showers bring May flowers
and that is beautiful.

Breathe deeply
and lengthily
so as to avoid
becoming light headed.

You are so beautiful to me
and I want you to want me
as I want you.
I want you to read these words
the way I read the ones you write about
a boy better than me.

Curiosity.

I'm dared to knock.
The loose strings need to be tied and the answer lies just beyond the door.

Darkness.

Peering through the peep-hole I see nothing.
Just a constant nothing that is overwhelming.

Coldness.

Pressing my hand on the door I am shocked.
It is chilling and maddening and not be touched.

Curiosity.

The answer to my problem lies just beyond
or so it has been spoken.

Desperation.

I need an answer and it is very close.
Too close, and too unreachable.

Finality.

The handle is being turned and the coldness shrugged.
Whatever lies beyond will soon be found out.

Isolation.

Not but an everlasting Darkness and Coldness and Fringe.
Comprehension is an alien idea.

Unreality.

Words.
Look not to the stars for they hold not but lies. Look only to the past for their the answer dwells.

Frustration.

Lied to. Cheated. I sacrificed so much to come to this point.
There is nothing here for me.

Revelation.

This is the place to think.
This is the place to recall and understand and fix.

This is the place to tie my strings together

Hours go by.
The sun actually comes up and I realized it's not so barren in here.
There are memories.
Some written in books.
Some painted on canvas.
Some drawn in chalk.
Some acted out on video screens.

This place will allow my to tie the frayed strings of my being together.
This place will allow me to learn.
                                        to fix.

And I see the stars fall
and I know you can stop them,
but you don't and I thank you.

Let them fall,
it is their time
and they are happy.

For thousands of years mankind
has predicted the death of the stars
but they never believed their ancestors would see it.

Alas they did,
the year 47806 has seen the fall of the stars,
but not the fall of man.

Oh no, man survived the destruction of Old Earth, the destruction of New Earth,
and the fall of Heigiria, so why should we die now?

No, for dozens of thousand of years man has persisted, for it is in their nature. Just as much as money was a part of pre-Heigiria human nature, so is survival.

We've evolved, we don't wear shoes or smoke cigarettes or speak but we still have art and we still have poetry we only share it differently. We share it on a cosmic scale, we mold Galaxies into love letters and universes into sonnets.

Let the stars fall, my dearest companion,
it signifies your love for me and the love I feel for you. Let's travel to Universe XB87 and experience it again in a millennium, let's travel to Multiverse 3 and experience it ten thousand times in ten thousand ways. Nothing I could think and nothing I could shape could be as beautiful, could be as wondrous as the warmth I feel from you as the stars die

We walked,
we smoked,
we talked,
we choked.
We skipped,
we spoke,
we enjoyed
each others company.

You did my makeup.
A friend of ours said 'Kiss him!'
And you laughed and said no.
I wanted you to.
It scares me.

"Life is weird" I said.
"I know, it horrifies me." you reciprocated.
"I think it's beautiful."
I think you're beautiful.

How sad it is to me,
that those with the most beautiful hearts find themselves empty.
That those with the loveliest faces find themselves resembling dirt.
That those with the softest skin cut into themselves.

You needed something to occupy
so you could feel loved
and you chose my heart.
Gladly I opened it for you.

You were lonely when you kissed me,
you kissed me because you were lonely.
I kissed you because I thought it was the right thing to do,
kissing you was the wrong thing to do.

Now, you're no longer lonely and you don't need me. You've found other people to make you feel loved and now you can spare none for me. ****, you can't even call me back.

You make me feel stupid and naive.
Stupid to love you
and naive to think you could ever love me back.

Don't ask me how I feel
because I'll say the same thing I say ever day
I'll say I'm feeling fine
yeah
I'm feeling great
better than I did when I hated myself
because yeah
now I love myself.
And I'll stand there and lie through my teeth
because the smile it puts on your face
makes everything okay
up until the second it fades away
the second everything comes unglued
just like it used to.

Run down the stairs
(Superfast, and just in time
for breakfast.)

I hadn't been to a party in about a year.
I prefer what I'm comfortable with,
my friends, our routines.

I drank more than I should have.
Bodies
(Sweat)

I watched her shake her ***,
I watched her take off her shirt,
I took a shot.

I felt her heat.
I soaked in our sweat,
we were never under the sheets.


I woke up.
My head hurt,
she was gone.

She was never there

I wrote a poem about you in my mind.
It was short and snappy and sure to hurt.

Why?

I still love you
and nothing can change that.

Press your lips together
and press them on mine.
Feel my tongue on yours
and close your eyes.
See my face
imprinted on the back of your eyelids.
Kiss me long
and kiss me deeply.
Don't dare to pull away;
not yet.
Let's stay here,
you and me,
and etch our names into a tree.
Let us lay in the grass
and touch our feet with our feet.
Let us stay in this place
until the moon rises.

Place your hand
on the small of my back
and feel my hand
on the small of your back
while my other touches your face.
Let us be swept away
by the love in this place.
Let our hips come together
as the sun comes to horizon.
******* neck
and I'll bite yours.
Worry not about the marks,
we will grow to love them.
Run your hand through my hair
while mine holds your face on mine.

Let us not separate.
Let us not evaporate.
Let us not leave this place.

Everything, unfortunately, that has happened to us holds weight.
We are what we have done and what has been done by others.
The mistakes that we are all stereotypically bound to make will undoubtedly have been made by others and hopefully we may recognize them for what they are and avoid them.
Past relationships help us make current ones better.
Past relationships can help us not get into a relationship that will be toxic.
And however obviously the facts stare me in the face
I cannot resist falling in love.
I cannot resist falling for a girl
who shares many of the same circumstances that my partner in a previous (toxic) relationship.

As appealing as it may be, never let your heart make your decisions for you.
Not when you have a perfectly stable brain allowing it to beat.

Above all I hold this principle to be true:
Do all the good you can do
and good will find you.
Albeit in a roundabout way, typically.

Steal yourself my dear.
Bite your tongue and not your lip.
We shall begone by dawn and forever more.

This place holds nothing more for us.
This town is full of memories hollowed by hate.
Steal yourself my dear.

Quick kisses in the halls.
In the theater.
Behind the gym.
At the football game.
At the parties.
In abandoned houses.

There is nothing for us here but quick kisses.
Lost feelings.
And the past.
Most of all the past.

Today,
at a street festival,
I watched a girl I have never met,
have never taken notice of before,
dance for about an hour.

I sat there,
begging God for the courage to get up
and dance alongside her.

After more than a few chance eye contacts
I decided to not look away when she looked at me.
Not missing a beat or a step we held one another's gaze
for a while.

Spinning and smiling she motionlessly
and wordlessly
beckoned me forth.

Denying myself a simple pleasure of
human interaction
and dancing, I remained seated.

After everyone had left,
and the band had stopped playing,
there, in the middle of the street she stood standing.

There, under the orange glow of the streetlights
atop a small coffee table
I sat, imagining her reflection in my eyes.

If God would ever be so generous as to allow it,
I would do it different.
I would dance next to her and then with her.

If God would ever be so generous as to allow it,
I would do it right.

Hell fire rains down
as the Last Gunslinger grips the reins of his horse.
No longer does the authority of the Old Folk reign.

They say not since The Catcher in the Rye, has a real person been born from pen on paper.
But Salinger used a typewriter.
And nobody likes Caulfield, anyway.

I can be alone.
I spent two years perfecting the art,
and I may spend some time practicing it.

I just hope someday the phone will ring,
and that the caller is happy and healthy
and whole.

It was autumn,
or at least I think it was.
The leaves were changing color
as were you.
It's funny, the way memories linger,
associate and disassociate with senses.
Smells;
the wild flowers.
Colors;
the deep reds of a changing season.
Sounds;
the crunching of dry leaves.
Touch;
your hands.

It may have been autumn,
or at least I think it was,
but I'll always remember you as the Autumn Girl.
Not my autumn girl,
I was merely a vessel
while you were a lamp to be lit.
I was in the dark
while you crossing great expenses of water.

That pond was so small
and you were so magnificently
immense.

God forgives all trespasses,
but can I?
What do I have to forgive?

I'll not forgive you because you have nothing to apologize for.
You've been absent, but you have your reasons. You have your struggle and I have my love.
For you, for her, for my little sister, for everything around me.
I'll be there for you always, I'll spare my bitterness that has so often been flowing out of my pores. You don't deserve it and it won't help.
Help?
If you need some, just ask,
I'll not pass judgment for I wish none to be passed unto me, God knows one could judge me, least of all you, for the way I've treated you.

I'll be there for you,
although it's hard for me to look you in the eye.

I see my God in you.
I see him in your eyes
and hear him with your ears.

Through you he speaks to me
and with you, he shall know me.

The wind rustles the leaves on the tree
and causes the sleeping child to stir.
For reasons she does not know, she feels warm.
But she has seen the good and the bad and was given a choice.

The daylight streams through the window
and the kettle is boiling
and in the next room, my love is stirring.

Awaken! her heart sings to her.
Go! Enjoy the light, the shade, the sounds and the silence!
Go and enjoy all of this I have laid before you!
Go and kiss your lover, through each other you have found me!
*Through each other, you have found love, and that is all I want of you

Mistakes are something we are forced to live with.
More so than scars or badges of honor.

And that's a good thing. As long as we live with our mistakes, we won't repeat them.

But does that matter to those trespassed against? To those the mistakes were committed unto? No. And it shouldn't, the mistake is what matters. And the one in the wrong isn't the only one forced to live with.

Mistakes often come about from selfishness, and selfishness serves no one, abides by no biddings.
As it shouldn't.

Forgiveness is a hard fought battle for humans. Forgiveness for yourself, lovers, friends and enemies. They're all hard to come by and must be striven for.

The ache that's been lingering between my eyeballs the past twenty four hours is constant and stabbing. That's where I'm keeping my mistakes. Somewhere that will never be out of site or mind.
This mistake is large and so my whole body aches. No, reader, don't say you're sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for and I deserve the pain I feel. I deserve the back of my eyelids swimming with images and my ear drums ringing with a single sentence and I want to apologize every time i hear those words. Those words are for you and for me and I will keep them and they will make my body stimulated and tense until I have forgiven myself.  
I don't want to forgive myself. I don't deserve it, just as you didn't deserve to be the receiver of my mistakes.

I promised myself I wouldn't write this.
My will power is week and
I don't know, I have a thousand more things to say but they only matter to me and so I shall keep them.
I hope for three things;
The first: you're happiness and well being
The second: you're friendship.
The third is selfish and so I shall keep it to myself.

There is a small patch of forest just next to my house.
When I was little my sister and I would go there and dance and sing.
Today I decided to visit. Beer bottles and empty cigarette packs littered the ground.
I had been there in a while but someone had. I sat down on a rotting log and pulled out my own pack of cigarettes.
I stayed there, sitting on that log, accompanied by my thoughts and the sound of the wind rushing through the pines above.
It's as if the trees were speaking to me.

In an ancient and eminent language they whispered.
They told me stories the Moon wanted to remain unknown.
They sang to me songs the birds first whistled.
And with strength the river envied they swept me away.
The innocence of the pines was obvious in this serene place.

If you were to call
and say
"Let's get out of here"
Baby, I'd be gone.

If we
were to hop on a train
the tracks could never
be too long.

If we
were to sit atop a hill
and kiss, my only wish
would be to never see the setting sun.

After years and years of ceaseless grinding,
the inner workings of my heart are stripped bare.
Just like the screws
that hold my aging coffee table up.

Just like the love that so meticulously held us together
has faded away,
washed up,
disappeared.

Aubrey doesn't come around anymore
(she never was around)
and the lake bed dried up
(just as it was in the first place)

The memories hold strong.
For as long as the sun burns
as I will have these memories of you.
How I view them and how fondly I hold them changes as does the sea.

The weather cannot make up its mind
in regards as to how this small town shall be treated.
Treated with sunshine and warm days,
or with overcast and a light rain.

However hallow you presume my heart to be
I must assure you, my body is not the same.
Nicotine courses through these veins,
and brandy fights in vain with my head.

I wish for you,
I wish for you to be held by me.
I wish for you to be with me
and I wish for you to belong with me.

Every soul wants to belong as if it were written in the stars.
What makes you and I so different?

I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm not sure what I'm thinking.
I do know that,
Just like the moon,
I will die cold and all alone.

God forgives us our trespasses.
Friends are not so easy.
Family is not so easy.
I don't know what's going to happen,
and even though I get this feeling often,
it is still quite unsettling.

Memories
Are
Never
Here.
Always
Tomorrow.
­Tonight
Antagonizes
Nobody.

Before
Every
A­ttack.
Calm
H**atred

I have love for every living thing on earth,
and this includes you, I'm sure.

You are fickel and flickering,
like the drugs you use,
and I feel so much love from you regardless.

Regardless of how you're feeling,
regardless of what happened to you on this day,
you have me feeling so incredibly loved
and so incredibly loving

I wonder what I could do to make you smile  at me like the way you did today.
Could it be something as simple as smiling at you?
Could something so beautiful be brought on by something so simple?
Could you smile forever?
I would give all I could and more to just have that.
I would suffer for a thousand years just for a brief second of seeing your smile.
Because it would erase my scars and clear my head.
It would send my heart beating, and in my stomach the butterflies would be released.
So please, just tell me what it is that I could do.
Because honey, I'll do anything.

I fell in love with you the moment I met you.
And many times since then.

I remember when I first met you.
I handed the mic to you
and you nervously introduced yourself.

I fell in love with your words first,
and you second.

I fell in love with the way they rolled of your lips
and caused my heart to palpitate.

I fell in love with the way you smile
and how it caused my lips to curl into one of my own.

I fell in love with the way your words eased my anxiety away to nothing
and I how I was able to think around you.

I fell in love with you
and I have been continuing to do so every time
I hear your voice,
read your words,
or see your face.

Whisper softly,
I'm all ears.
Kiss my neck
and baby, I'm yours.

Stay inside,
a little longer.
We have yet
to satisfy our hunger.

I can't stop
and take time to think.
No, it ain't my nature,
would you like a drink?

Just sit back
and rewind
to all the nights
when you were mine.

A man walks down the same street he did a month ago.
His shoes are slightly more worn than when he last made this trek.
Although the sun rests in the same spot and the trees whisper in the same way, he feels cold.

That is to say that love sings in a different way when you are alone.
Love can taste like strawberry lips or it can taste like cheap brandy, the only difference is with what you purchase it.

Nothing has been more Absurd
than everything is right now.
The one question that
every man has asked himself is
why
The only question that is worth answering cannot be answered.
*why

No means no,
not right now means no,
stop means no,
silence means no,
lack of consent means no,
anything other than yes means no.

It makes me sick
and it turns my face red
and I can't think
when I hear about him.

When I hear about how great of a guy he is
and how it's only alcohol that turns him into
the monster that I see him to be always.
In sobriety he makes me just as sick.
Anybody that takes with asking,
that doesn't listen,
that feels entitled to *** when it is denied,
makes me sick
and should be hung,
should be shot,
should be ****** on
and torn apart limb from limb.

Boys will be boys is not an excuse,
alcohol is not an excuse,
ignorance is not an excuse.

There is no excuse;
a bullet for every ******.

Happy Birthday to me.
So light me up a cigarette
and get the water boiling.

Kiss me on the cheek
and I'll kiss yours,
now how about pizza, I'm buying.

Take me to a movie,
but smoke me out first,
buy me a soda, it doesn't have to be a large.

I'm a week older than I was last week,
and seventeen years older than when I was born.
But don't worry about numbers, just give me a hug.

A room within a room
a door within a door
I need something more

Swallow
breathe
open the blinds
stretch

Touch you shoulders,
and kiss your freckles
hold on
stretch

Hold on
if love is the answer
you'll know
hold on

Will this pain go away if I **** myself?
Will I finally get some sleep?
Will my headache finally go away?
Will my addictions go away?
And will my hate leave me?

Will this pain go away if I **** myself?
Will there be anything for me?
Will this world miss me?
Will this world follow me?
And will death welcome me?

Will this pain go away if I **** myself?
Will there be love in my heart?
Will these meaningless trifles disappear?
Will the world ever be good?
And will my death help?

I stole glances at you as we walked
under the moon and grey clouds.

You smiled when I did,
and I like to think you were smiling when I wasn't looking too.

cigarettes
****, all gone.
ash trays
empty
**** it
side of the road
empty
******* trash can
full of garbage
Marlboros?
I don't care
American Spirit?
Why would I care
filtered unfiltered
why should I care.
I'd smoke out of a elephants *** to stop this scrath
this headache
this yearning
****
get me my fix
get me my ******* cigarette.

~

It was a Saturday morning.
We got cigarettes around 10:00,
***** around 10:30 (they just wouldn't leave the liquor isle),
and drunk around 11.
We didn't stop drinking
and smoking
until we ran out.

High as the low lying clouds
that rained upon us,
we walked
the streets of the town we were born in.

They have a word for boys like us.
Probably a few,
but we don't need to get into that.
Time ******,
highs fade,
wallets empty
and we got drunk at 11 on a Saturday morning.
They have words for boys like us.
Bums,
hoodlums,
punks.
Whatever,

It was a Saturday morning and we had pie for breakfast.

I burned the only memories I had of you.
I also burned my fingers a bit, before I threw the paper on the ground.
And later when I got home,
I started to think of you so I took a couple strikeouts
and watched The Fellowship of the Ring.

**** those people who said it only gets better.
They lied to us.
They lied to you and me
and all the other kids with tear soaked cheeks
and problems with substances/self harm/depression.

It gets better
but its got to get bad first.

It took me years of tears to realize
that things will get better.
They will.
They may get worse first,
they may stay the same for a while,
they may get better and return ten times worse
but they will get better.
They have to.

And I miss you so much
my heart rushes blood to my brain
to tell me it's hurting.

You spent time in a beautiful place today
and I made coffee for hippies and businessmen alike because I am a slave to the man made idea of capitalism.
So are you.

I drank this weekend,
I went to a party and I drank and I let a girl three years younger than me rub her body on mine and when she had to leave I drank some more and I didn't think of you until I woke up.

I didn't help clean up the mess from the party, I went and got steak and eggs with a friend and after that I went back to sleep in my own bed, the one you slept in.

I want to know that you're ok, and I want to know that you're healthy and oh how small my problems and desires are and how massive the distance between us.

I spent some time today with two beautiful people.
Together, we did disgusting things; we smoked cigarettes, we spoke about our experiences in abusive relationships, and we tried to spit on cars driving by.

I looked at the clouds and I knew you were upset. I looked at the clouds and I knew I loved you. In that moment and in this moment I love you. I love the boy we were with and I love his father.

Human beings are the only creatures capable of committing evil because we are the only ones who have an idea of what evil is, therefore we are the only creatures who can choose to be evil. Humankind is the only species to ever enslave a living creature. We've done it to every animal on earth and we've done it to our brothers.
A lion mother killing a baby antelope is not evil. The same lion mother ripping the esophagus out of an antelope's neck is not evil.

I think I may be evil. I think I've caused people pain. Pain has been dealt unto me and being a man who respects and strives for fairness, I have dealt pain unto those least deserving. I love you like the moon loves you (as the moon must) and this makes you least deserving of any pain and you're in so much pain, you're in so much pain and I caused you pain two years ago and men continue to cause you pain and I brought you that cassette to try and put a bandaid on a two year old **** that has already healed and I hope it's enough

It's on nights like these
when I wish I could press replay.

I remember how you looked
in your black dress
and I remember how you kissed
with your red lips
but I cannot remember how it felt
to hold your swollen heart.

I may not be happy.
But I can always chase down some Tums with a bottle of wine.
And I know I've changed a lot over the past year so you can stop pointing that out every ******* minute. I know you know I'm in love with you and I know you know how much I hate myself.

Four years ago I promised myself I would never smoke cigarettes, I remember it clearly.
Now look at me, smoking a pack a day when I can, re-lites when I can't.

On the other hand, I used to be happy.
On yet another hand, I used to be ignorant.
Ignorance is bliss.

I guess you got tired of
the drugs
and the poor treatment
and the lack of responsibility
so you left.

I see you,
running with your new crowd.
We prefer shrooms,
so the feelings we experience can be stronger.
They prefer alcohol,
so they will not be held responsible for their actions.

That boy you're spending all your time with,
do you know what I heard him say?
In simple language,
without flashy adjectives,
I heard him announce that he got drunk,
but he made sure not get as drunk as her
so that she would do whatever he wanted.
I heard him,
through a closed bathroom door,
apologizing to a girl he had been rude to years ago,
but now she was hot,
so they should hangout.
I heard her exhale loudly
and watched her leave the bathroom.
She saw me and asked if I wanted to join her for a cigarette.

Looking back on it,
I wish you would join me.
For anything.

But you run with the self proclaimed nice guys
and I run with the equally as lame,
self proclaimed stoners.

I know this:
what goes around comes around.
The trespasses that I have committed unto others
have been committed unto me in equal measure
and I'm sure one day
those nice guys will get theirs,
and I only hope you
realize how to get yours
on your terms.

I need to stop writing about you,
hoping for things to change.
I need to start writing poetry again.