A flash of unripe banana green hair,
And the solemn padding of thumbs hitting a screen,
The wisp’s of dying flame,
A worn sticker on a pure evening blue water bottle,
The tight warm grip,
Of a beanie on my head,
The soft wind that air vents disperse,
The crisp smell of a sparse winter’s day,
Like wasabi, but clogging my nose instead of cleaning it,
The din of speaking and eating in a popular coffee shop,
And I’m just on my way to class

Writing is very cathartic for me,
In the same way,
Which,
Bleeding is cathartic for plague treatment.
After drenching a page,
I sit,
Corpse-still, Catholic cathedral still,
Feel!
Echoing off my abandoned adorned walls.

A tri fold, then a bi fold, then a bi fold again
The smooth ridged friction causes my fingers to stumble,
Over the inscribed words of duty, honor, and justice
Though my marks cover the blank space
The core message stands resolute

Through the bite marks when I’ve no hands
Through the creases of each fold
Through the crossed out notes of yesterdays and before

The ideals stand unwavering on the rock of unassailable surety

“that’s not right” “its not what we do” my ingrained and flawless surety
Of right and wrong often splashed on my friends
Regardless of then asking to be soaked
But
They knew that this was coming
They knew ever since they became friends with me

I stood as bright and shinning as any statue to some ethical boundary
Completely unashamed of my brilliant and righteous judgment

Though still toeing the edge of my seat, I am quiet.
I’ve learned to let them do as they please,
Leave the bowing of others
To the truly untainted teachings
Of wisdom
To wisdom

A free portrait! Imagine that,
At no charge this troglodyte
Decided that I deserved a rendition in pulsing crimson, me!
He effortlessly sliced the curve of my face,
And then holding true to brute form,
Let his fists do the rest of the painting.
In a breath’s thought I fought the idea
That this strong browed man was a fan of
Yves klein, but then he caringly guided my sight
Floor-bound and I noticed that he was a
Monochromatic *******.

Now, I wasn’t expecting Monet,
But in truth the elegance of the lazy red river
Careening down my cheek and neck got my hopes up.

And then further was impressed by his liberalness
With bottomless black crimson
Where he’d only previously flirt with young pinot noir
As he took a break to wash and massage his stained hands
I clutched at the hope that perhaps he was done with the
Onslaught with such blunt tools,
As such methods could ruin the whole piece
Unfortunately, he returned
And his care for each swipe was becoming more

More impassioned, but less precise,
I asked if he perhaps needed a second break?
Perhaps I could assist him,
I wanted to give it a try myself, but my hands were
Tied.

In vain,
I tried to tell him that,
Perhaps,
His bearish skills and appearance,
Would be better suited to a life of leather, whips, and Oedipus Complexes,
But his response was,
Cutting.

You should never laugh at an artist
Especially the bad ones
Because then their work some how finds a way to get worse


I asked if he’d learned how to work from his father,
And whether his father had worked him in any
Other
Manner, and that’s when I became dizzy
I think.
Apparently struck a nerve.

I knew the first swallow of vinegar salt-water memory
Would not leave me in peace
But awaken my wolf’s hunger
For pensive penance

Which leaves me thrashing my boots, khakis, coat,
Sweater, watch,
Suddenly immersed in the pure sapphire blue,
Of my past.

Coffee shops, Like brains,
Mock the idea of ridged conformity

People of all shapes and sizes
All makes and models
All styles and varieties
Wander through looking for single refreshment
The background weight of memories caught in my coat
Pull me down until I’m sputtering, splashing,
In the days I've lived,
Or days I've just watched.

But no day as no person in need of quenching
Stops for long
Each just here to slow down my day
Just here to do me death by a thousand charms
Treacherous tenacity of “what if” at the counter
Tears a hole inside my heart

You look me in the eye, and slowly turn the knife,
And im sure you have the best intentions to antagonize my life,
You throw the knife and use your hand terror in your eyes,
For you cant see your tries to help, is what makes me want to die

Trying to tap telegrams
On the back of my iphone
In a faux leather seat
In the back of my mothers car.
Anyone will tell you I have a
Knack
For the contrary
And there’s strangely no argument,
Where I got it from.
The seat belt sits uncomfortably across my throat,
Stopping my words,
A space formerly only occupied by her gaze,
Though my future career may benefit,
My current psyche does not.

The thirsty throat of my thought never lets me think
It swallows up each idea into the dead mass of depression
Selecting what joys to **** dry each day
Headaches and hangovers help me forget my forgetfulness
The remiss panic attacks assist my fugue state
Then my own failure and impending irrelevance does me the honor
Of piercing the center of my skull like a rhino's horn
Grateful I feed it my fears and futilely fake freedom for my family
They can’t know, they have problems I know, I wont let it show,
Friends, whether fake or “for real” worry for me,
Disgraceful
Im not some sappy sonofabitch looking for sorrow
Just wake me when I’m already late and disappointing you tomorrow

I’m ready to have my heart broken today,
Though perhaps this is simply the impact,
Of the slow-mo hammer that’s been coming
Since the Rube Goldberg machine of life started,

Not so long ago

The sun bolstered my confidence by,
Hiding behind morose bloated clouds,
Only giving half light support,
And then leaving completely.
Yellow bellied good for nothin’…

I’m ready to have my heart broken today,
My flippant flying exterior trying to calm
My Red October sinking sub soul.
But this isn't all her fault,
Granted she’s breaking my heart.

I walked outside,
Closed the door behind me,
And signaled to clear out.
The fireplace inside,
Casting shadows through the window,
The shadow of my soldier holding two civilians at gunpoint
Them
Sitting apathetically playing cards,
Him
Mourning the loss of his two older brothers.

As we walked, I wanted to stop,
I wanted each stomp
                I wanted to loose my eyes from my head
I wanted to telescope my eyes back
I wanted to reach into my sockets
                I wanted to feel smooth bone
I wanted to crawl blind of body
I wanted to be cast into the envied innocence
I wanted to sit in town,
I wanted to be festering in the pit
I wanted to be splayed apart
I wanted to have my tracts tangled between two others
I wanted to embrace any warmth as my own dissipated
I wanted to run far from the front
I wanted to run until I died
I wanted to run because
I wanted to beat the ground for allowing us to happen
I wanted to never **** again
I wanted to crush a calf’s head in my fists
I wanted to throw myself into a furnace
I wanted to swallow burning tar
I wanted to scream my name loud enough
                I wanted to burst eardrums
I wanted to etch my name into every piece of skin
I wanted to grind my teeth into dust
I wanted to crack my canines
                I wanted to rip out the roots
I wanted to ****** every person responsible
I wanted to puppet their decapitations
                I wanted to apologize
I wanted to drink their blood
                I wanted to jail them within me
I wanted to tear apart their chest
                I wanted to hollow them out from inside
I wanted to wear them as a suit
                I wanted to undo all of their dones
I wanted to steal back my eyes from their stomach
I wanted to form them in the crucible of my throat
I wanted to throw them up
                I wanted to finally be able to use them again
I wanted to be able to weep
I wanted to be able to see
I wanted to lie dead
I wanted to feel the worms under my skin
I wanted to hear the ants walk into my nostrils, out my ears
I wanted to be carrion for the wolves
I wanted to loose my heart
I wanted to lose my voice
I wanted to be completely forgotten
I wanted to be erased from my history
I wanted to wake up the next morning and work
I wanted to feel the sun bake my back
I wanted to subjugate the plants under me
I wanted to get on my hands and knees
I wanted to untangle the roots of trees
I wanted to push my hands into the earth
                I wanted to pull out my child
I wanted to watch her tear apart everything I have built
I wanted to feel her scorn upon every word I’ve written
I wanted to capture her soul
                I wanted to steal it for myself
I wanted to give her my name
                I wanted to give her my possessions
I wanted to leave her with my world
I wanted to see her already building her own
I wanted to tie myself into a box
I wanted to have her dump cement upon me
I wanted to be the first block in her foundation
I wanted to be uniform with the rest
I wanted to be forgotten
I wanted to sit on top of a mountain
I wanted to breathe in the clouds
I wanted to breathe out the dew
I wanted to get drunk upon the rain
I wanted to dance with the moon
I wanted to streak with the meteors
I wanted to connect constellations
I wanted to name my scars constellations
I wanted to have streams upon me
I wanted to hold anything nurturing within me
I wanted to feel the thrall of the stars
I wanted to jump
I wanted to beat gravity
I wanted to spring into the air
I wanted to feel crystals on my lashes as I flew
I wanted to ******
I wanted to trust enough to fall
I wanted to fall into someone completely
I wanted to embody unconditionally
I wanted to be embodied
I wanted to grip upon flesh for life
I wanted to feel at risk
                I wanted to feel at peace
I wanted to close myself off
I wanted to be in one moment
I wanted to die in that moment
I wanted to be slick with sweat
I wanted to harmonize my moans with another
I wanted to cleanse my body as I wash another
I wanted to lend my brain to another
I wanted to be told they would like to use it again
I wanted to attach my lips to someone’s ear
I wanted to have them attach them there again later
I wanted to look at someone as I’ve finally only just awoken
I wanted to hoard smells from my senile brain
I wanted to feel someone languish in my arms
I wanted to be held with two hands
I wanted to be crushed by them
I wanted to be only remembered in solemn reflections
I wanted to be brought up in uncanny appearances
I wanted to end comfortable conversations
I wanted to watch others suffer without me
I wanted to carefully extract my heart from my chest
I wanted to watch it beat
I wanted to sink my head down to its level
I wanted to touch my eye to its side
I wanted to hold my heart in my mouth
                I wanted to feel my blood in my ears
I wanted to feel the throbs upon my tongue
                I wanted to bite into the meat
I wanted to break everything it cares about
I wanted to tarnish every sensation of being
I wanted to hold my skull in my hands
I wanted to compress until it cracked
I wanted to lift shards of bone
I wanted to pluck out my brain
I wanted to dig my nails into the mucus fat
I wanted to reveal the coward
I wanted to mash every inkling I’d ever considered
I wanted to plug it into the radio
I wanted to blast my thoughts into every home
I wanted to control your every action
I wanted to tell them how I masturbated
I wanted to tell them who’ve I lied to
I wanted to tell them who’ve I protected
I wanted to scream myself into audio
I wanted to lose my form into your ears
I wanted to sail on frequencies above melodies
I wanted to drop into bass notes
I wanted to escape
I wanted to get far enough
I wanted to be close enough,
        I wanted to be able to tell the difference
                                         Between a flickering fire
                                                        And two muzzle flashes.

Write between the lime juice lines,
And basil blood,
On the cutting board
To the rhythm of cooks' kitchen knives,

Write between the wet mop tendril trails,
On the reused restaurant floor,
As you carried to clean
A mistake some rich man made,

Write to the beat of the press,
Punching out the steel form,
In accordance with the curriculum,

Write in the silent moments,
Chewing homemade sandwiches
Through the cigarette smoked sunrise

Write between stun grenade blasts
After cleaning tear gas attacks

Write in between ****** boot prints,
The shape of the state seal
Congealed to the street.