Hemingway wasn't cutting it
soI cut three lines
and blew them in rapid succession.

I put on Vampire Weekend and jacked off
to a picture of you until my **** hurt.
It's night like these
and it's **** like Tommy's
that make me wonder why I started using.
Not even high enough
to sleep,
I stumble around my room
as my ****** nose leaves stains on my carpet.

I try to keep my room clean
and I try to stay clean
and I try to use clean words
but it's nights like these
and it's **** like Tommy's
that make me a ******* loser.

It's night like these
and it's words like yours'
and it's **** like Tommy's
and it's music like Ezra's
and it's loneliness like mine
when I want to not wake up in the morning.
If I ever fall asleep.

What a beautiful place
the thought of your face
allows me to roam.

As the windows fog
and the wipers wipe
I can't tell what is driving me away from this town.
The car I am in or the empathy you give me.

Or at least help me die.
But I guess these are the same thing.
Whoops.

I've written three poems tonight,
and each one ended up in my waste basket.
Sometime after writing the third,
and giving up for the night
I realized what was wrong.

I wasn't writing about you.

I am
confused.

It isn't the first
time.
And it won't be the
last.

Would it be too brazen
for
me to say
it.

I feel that it
would
be slightly out of
place
for me to say
it.

But I like '
you.
And nothing can change
the
way I feel right
now.
Except maybe a
cigarette
and a hundred
more,
and also a
kiss
and a thousand
more.

After years of fighting
I've learned to retreat
at the first sign of love.

If a tree is never given a chance to take root
it will not grow to bear poisonous fruit and if words never proclaim love,
then love can never be lost.

When you finally get in bed,
                                                 do you go to sleep?
Or do you lie there and think about how much you've ****** up?
                                                                                                              who you've ******.
                                                                                                                                               who you've ****** up.
Does sleep come easy like it used to?
                                                              Of course not.

haha
How ******* stupid this is.
Why can't you just grow up?
After all, you are the adult.
I'm just a little boy and you ******* said it yourself.

I don't know why any of this happened.
                                                                    I don't know where we went wrong
                                                                                                                                or why.
I'm not that interested in finding out.
Just forgetting.

Why don't we make a deal.
I'll let you forget, if you let me forget.

I used to lie in bed at night thinking about the time we could spend together.
It soon switched to thinking about the time we had spent together.
And somewhere along the line it changed again,
this time into negative thoughts.
Resentful thoughts.
And recently, I'm not sure when
they became fond memories.
I could see passed the fog of loss
and into the ocean of happiness that we swam in together.

There still is that fog, I guess.
Somewhere along the line
I saw only your flaws.
I saw all the things people say when they talk about you.
I see the lies but I also see the fun.
And I'm not sure, I haven't decided yet, but I think you used me.
I'm not sure why you chose me,
or why I chose you,
but we chose to use each other.

Recently,
I can see everything clearer
and recently I've been seeing things in a brighter shade of orange.

Maybe this will be my year.


*Maybe not.

When the nights are hot
and the doors are locked
and I'm not with you
I begin to wish for
a thousand more kisses
and a million more songs to remind me of you.

I wish for it to be November again.

Once a girl told me I kiss like I'm in a hurry
and I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

When I kiss you I feel as if
you're trying to fit a lifetime of kisses
into one single breath
and I feel as if
I never want to breathe again.

I remember the day we met.
Not the date, but the day.
Your best friend was dating my best friend and considering they were our only friends in the sixth grade, we spent a good amount of time together.

I haven't seen that friend in years and I doubt you've seen yours in just as long.

Please don't let that happen to us.

Pour a shot of your love,
I'll take it in one gulp.
Lying on the kitchen floor
with my stomach bursting
I swear I love you.

Chance upon my hand,
may hap we shall forget the
bottle for just a moment.

I want it to be like it used to be.

Like it used to be before you kissed me on the front porch.
I'm not sure what triggered it but
you grew distant,
and I grew needy.

And now, here we are,
our short conversation last night our first in weeks,
with me blinking away tears,
and you,
apathetic,
smelling of jasmine
as if nothing were wrong.

You hold him as if to mock me.
Wait! I know it is not so.
I know you do not spite,
you do not stab with cold daggers,
you simply love and love
and I want some of your love for me.

The arrival of June ushered in a new era of heat.
The river, instead of being a place to have fun
became a mean of survival.
To escape the heat is clear your mind.
To dive deep and sink your fingers into the cold sand beneath the crest of the water
is to reach a state of true peace.

I would never tell a human being to smile more.
Smiling is something that when forced, holds more negative effects than not smiling.
A boy I love isn't smiling sincerely as much as he used to,
and I'm not going to tell him to smile more,
only that he deserves to.
The only thins this boy does is spread love and happiness.
Whether or not he has his guitar he creates music.
The manner in which he breathes causes love to occur.

He is far away now.

Since I first wrote about him,
we've grown quite a bit closer.
Reading poetry in his smoked out van using hushed tones.
******* can be a verb but to him it's an adjective,
he'd use it often;
"I ******* love that girl, Nolan"
"That's the ******* ****, man"

We crouched under an awning,
cigarettes in hand, trying to escape the rain.
We needed to read no poetry then,
we were poetry, him and I.

He'd put his arm around me
while I vomited.
He understood I was sick because of seeing her with him, it had nothing to do with *******,
but he was more than willing to pretend.

I miss that man,
Bertran the Man,
who stands with cigarette in hand,
atop his white van,
hearing the cheers of those not fans.

I love that man,
for he is good and whole and poetry

Lie naked with me.
Forget everything, we are
the most important.

First Night (First Dream)

She is warm and she is soft.
She is a warm soft place that I like to be
and want to continue being in/around/with.

I dreamed of the first time her and I made love,
except it was different.
Everything was tinted blue
and there was less blood.

Second Night (No Dream)

Third Night (Second Dream)

You are warm, but I cannot remember your warmth.
I remember the touch of your hand
in likeness to the color of your hair;
orange and sun streaked.
But now you are gone (or leaving, I'm not sure)
and I'm begging you to stick around.
In my dream we were sitting on your neighbors porch,
kissing as we were that night.
Only this time, I was out of body, lingering around the Christmas lights,
screaming at you to stop,
because I knew I would not listen,
but you might.

The silence grows louder each day than the last.
It's time.

I give up, but only for a day.

I surrender today over to substances
and habits.

I give today to self loathing
and self pity.

I lend today to writing and erasing
writing and erasing
writing and erasing.

I allow today to not matter.

Being as the clouds
is a marvelous way to be.

I made a mistake and even Daski can't help.
The combination of it all makes me sick,
the revelation, the lack of cigarettes
and the fact that I unintentionally opened up our old Facebook chat.
And I read the last message you sent and every single one before that.

A heart beats inside my chest,
but is that sound enough evidence
that I can love,
or not hurt at best.

I try and I try and I try
but good feelings never come from my efforts,
so I take and I take and I take
and make beautiful people cry.

I should be tearing myself apart,
unearthing every sin
and dark place,
to find even the remains of a heart.

Just  by the method in which you breath
you create a sort of paradise for me to live in.
You're just my kind of man,
you're a stand up kind of guy.
Now yell at me until my eyes bleed
and stare at me until my ears pop.

Breath life into this breathless song
and breed the love until it is of pure blood.
God knows I'm bad with habits.
They pile up and I can't properly feed them.
So try to be cool.

The board snaps and the red light indicates the doors are secure
and the entirety of the manor rejoices when you walk in.
You're ten minutes late but you brought 4 grams of
cleverly disguised bad intentions and for that everybody is eternally grateful.
But I'll try and be cool.



I'm the only one who could ever have any fun
but that was only when I was with you.

So be cool.

If I'm not sad, I can't write.
If I can't write I become sad.
If I do write I become more sad.
I'm sad,
why can't I write.
I'm writing,
why aren't I sad.

I watched the film
not because she told me to,
but because she told me she enjoyed it.
You must understand how important this is.

We can live
only to the extent
of which we love.

He stands,
cigarette in hand,
golden hair blowing in the wind.

Except it's not blowing because he cut it all off.
If you ask him why he'll tell you he doesn't know;
he just wanted a change.

He'll pick you up when you're
feeling blue and he'll calm you down
when you're feeling red.

With his hands he creates music
and with his mouth he creates laughter.
He is the essence of humanity.

He'll take notice when you do good
and he'll call you out when
you're acting like a ****.

He stands,
Bertran the Man,
atop his white van,
cigarette in hand,
short hair reflecting the sunlight.

He'll tell you he loves you,
only if he means it,
and by God he will make
you feel it.

Stop killing time
and it will stop killing you.

I got it all wrong,
I know I did.

I see now that every time I assume something
about you
and your actions,
I am wrong.

I assumed you were apathetic;
I was wrong.
I assumed you were distracted;
I was wrong.

Now I'm assuming that you're coming back
(Oh God! please tell me it is so)
but can't help but think I'm wrong.

I want to rip apart my flesh,
burn myself until no pieces are left.

I want to pull all my hair at
and shove it down my throat
so I can finally get some sleep.

I want to die
and I want to sleep forever
and I want to not hurt
or be hurt
or hurt
or be hurt.

I want to bury my face in the ground
so I can never say evil things again.
I want to **** everybody around me
so I will never feel jealous again.

I want to drown the ******* stars
so no one will ever look at them again.

It's all a copy
of a copy
of a copy
of love.

I am a liar,
I lied, I lied, I lied, I
lied. I am lying.

There is nothing in this world that held my interest as much as you did.
But now you're gone and I've been floating around.
Wandering between groups and people, drugs and couches, love and hate.
And now, I am nothing,
The alcohol brings stink to my breath,
the hate brings bitterness to my thoughts,
the love brings regret to my life.
You brought these things to my life.
I shouldn't blame you
I shouldn't be that pathetic as to blame you for not getting my life in order.
But your voice will never leave my head,
your love will never leave my heart,
your face will never leave my nightmares.
Nothing will ever hold my interest as you once did.

Blue light overlapping
a soft face.

She told me,
you are worthless.
When are you going to grow up
and stop using and stop stealing
and learn how to treat a girl right?

All with silence,
she said this.
All with silence,
she wouldn't look at me.
All with silence,
she drank,
and she wouldn't look at me.

I don't know why it's been hitting me so hard these past few days.
Maybe it's the amount of time I've been spending with you,
or the realisation of how little time I have left to spend with you.

You keep telling me I'll survive and I know I will.
It's just that I don't want to.
And I hate that I have to.

A beautiful face in a crowd,
with the somewhat in my direction looks.

The most beautiful face in a crowd,
with definite glances in my direction,
and just as many returned.

*** is
the only way I've been able
to satisfy my desire for you,
without sticking a straw in my nose,
or shoving pills down my throat,
or smoking god knows what.
*** is
the only way I've been able
to not cry out to you.
Yet,
somehow *** makes me yearn for you more,
*** makes me crave you more,
and *** makes me realize how desperately I want you.

It's always been you,
from the day I've met you.
There's been other girls,
too many other girls,
too few other girls,
and there's been you.
So unattainable,
so out of reach,
but not out of mind.
There's always been you,
and until you are in my bed,
until your fingers leave marks on my back,
until yours is the first voice I hear,
you will not be out of mind,
and even after then you will not be out of mind.

The Coldness brings hate
and sadness. The light is going out now
how much time is left?

Tonight the moon has a yellow tint to it.
I could not tell you if it is waxing or waning,
but I can tell you that it's beautiful.

Tonight your eyes rest in my mind.
I could not tell you what you look like right now,
but I can tell you that you are beautiful.

November parties
last longer than all others.
Yet they always end.

Even though I knocked them over
I walked in to find empty beer cans
stacked to form a tower on the table.

The air smelt of cigarettes and secret connotations.

A small house filled with many beautiful people
and many different kinds of alcohol
on a cold Saturday night.

**** and bad intentions littered the floor.

I can't help but shake the feeling
that something went wrong and that
she isn't smiling the way she used to.

You pushed me down and I couldn't help the words of gratitude spilling from my lips as you picked me back up.

A girl told me I have a front,
a face I put on.
She said she didn't know why,
but she imagine it's easier than wearing my own.

I asked her what she thinks my unmasked ((person?)) looks like.
She said she didn't know but she'd like to.

I told her I loved her
because it seemed an awfully grand thing to say.

The sun rises slowly at first.
But wait, it will be high in the sky sooner than you think.
And again, before you know it, it will be setting.
Only now, it will take what seems like forever to die.

It will breathe it's last breathe
and then another
and then another.
It refuses to die; to sink.

The night time is tricky
because the stars will stay in seemingly fixed locations
but if, and only if you lie on your back with a loved one
you will see that they rotate and sing a song just for the two of you.

She remind me of a flower.
In that she's pretty and makes me happy.
I want to pick twenty thousand flowers for her
and litter them across her room where they can dry up and get ground into the floor.

Everything takes time
and time takes everything;
Flowers, feelings, people.


I'm not sure why I've been thinking of flowers so often recently.
Perhaps I've been using them as a means to forget you.

No, not forget. I could never forget you.
To take my mind off you.
To take my mind off destructive things
and instead onto something pure
and calm and not sharp

I don't know how I feel about all of this
anymore.
I don't know what to think.
I hardly know how to think.

I only know that you kissed me once
and that you are moving many miles away.

The bed was rocking so,
the movement of our bodies
caused my Rosary to fall on your face.

I'm not sure all that I want for you,
or all that I want from you,
but there are a few things I am certain of.

From you I would like a thousand more kisses,
two thousand more hugs
and maybe three more thousand kisses.

For you I want happiness. I want you to not have
to worry about him, be it your father, your friend,
your could-have-been lover.

But I understand that you need to figure out
how to not worry about these things on your own.
I can only wrap my arms around and hope to help.

For you I want happiness.
I want to be there for you
and for you I want happiness.

It's
             a sad moment.

Looking

              into the pack and finding it empty.

What

             am I gonna do?

Without

             them life *****.

Quickly

             look into your wallet.

Three

           bucks, ******* *****.

Oh

           Well one night won't **** me...

...

            ...

Somebody

            **** me, I'm ******* dead.