Bee ink toe
Get her is bae tear
Than a loan

i woke up with something i wanted to do
until i realized my life was through
and when I sat down and calculated it all
I found that I had let my dreams fall
I spent too much time in the comfort of my bed
I spent too much time in the comfort of my own head
And when I realized there was nothing i could do
I remembered I could have left with you.

Don't talk about it.
Within the whole fit
Of alcoholism
There exists a skism
Of sorts,
That exports
The deviant aspects
Of life, expounding on regrets
Future and past.
Bombast
The standing
Circumstance.
Don't talk about it,
But the though doesn't quit.
Just permit
One lasting comment
Each one out of their mind.
Each one looking to find
Somebody,
Or, some shoddy
Example of another life.
Each one is hinged to strife
And dismay.
Looking to one day
Get away.
Looking for someone else to just stay.
Or to say
Something pretty.
It's ******
Enough just being.
Each one only seeing
The bad side of it.
...
Don't talk about it.
Just one more thing...
It will bring
Absolutely nothing, but,
Remember the bite.
Like a small, lustfilled, light.
It, felt, right.
A small touch
Isn't a crutch.
It wasn't much
More.
One can deplore
Desire
But admire
The effort.
Except for...
Don't talk about it.
I quit.
I can't
I won't
It's scant
That I detract.
There exists desire
And not an aquisition to aquire.
But, I
Can't help but sigh.
Even though my
Other shifts to cry,
I won't speak.
A hand she seeks.
And I give,
With the warmth of a shiv
To touch her face.
She's come from a strange place.
I won't speak.
For once, one, is not meek.
Friends before
But for a second, a little more.
Don't talk about it.
Don't let it persist
Like it was pretty.
Remember the city
And the stars.
There was no trip to Mars.
Remember "mistake",
For it can make
Friends...
But to what end?
Why is it important
There are no memories to sort and
Nothing to find.
In this mind
It exists as nothing.
No bluffing
No feeling
No realing
Just two
Of a few
Who
Wanted
Nothing left stunted.
No whelp
No cry for help.
Don't talk about it.
Yet, I sit
And think,
And no it wasn't the drink.
It was lonliness.
What did I miss?
Placation of desires and Nothing more.
She walked out the door
And was gone.
I sang no sad song
And it wasn't wrong.
Don't talk about it?
Fine, I submit.
I quit.
This is it.

Sometimes i feel a bit better letting some English out.
like blood letting for the soul
I forget the happiness sometimes
its empty.
which
nothingness does feel great
I find poetry
enraging.
Its hard to imagine a more tumultuous art
everything is meaningless...
but meaning means so much.

I can not save anyone
Yet on the inside I do not feel any
Pain. I just feel free.

I wish my humanity didn't suffer
Not like this
Like millions of jarring bits
And a dozen hammers
Crashing into them
I wish it was negotiable
I could see one thing
And not the others
But that's not how it works
My humanity suffers
Because of the whole picture

You say I am a child
but i am also a dragon
With wings that make wind
cut through the trees like blades
with voice
that burns down countries
with dreams
that die when boxed
and cut
and sold
till we are no longer dragons
but worms on our stomachs
you want us to be like you
but why not fly



you exist not as a bird
but a man
You exist not as an ideal
but as tangible thought
we watch you fly
and remember things
but we watch you burn
and crash
and cry
for we remember things
i wont break your wings
I show you to control wind
for you can fly straight
and never touch the ground

What kind of world would I live in
If I betrayed my friends
In little increments
In between their love affairs
With words jarring
With statements to impress
What desire could be lost
Knowing the inevitable cost
Could be their happiness
For my own
With them on sorrowful knee
And myself sitting on my throne

Sometimes i wish these words could do justice
for the women who exist in my life
so i could make them sound as amazing
as they existed in this world
They are fantastic.
but

Sunshine
blue skies
please go away

I don't know
what it means when you
say to us

Aspartame
Tastes sweeter even though
It is fake

Being in love is
like being sober and
I'd rather be drunk

I like you
Whell like you
Ya
Like you


Don't look like that
Well...
Yep

that's all i had to say

Every night i dream of home
And every morning i wake up here
But here is home
and there i was unhappy.

The clacking of keys
Doesnt sing like the
Scribble of a pen
And then
When
The next line has begun
The thought has run
Off
The pc cannot loft
The vision of choirs
Instead mires
In the new age of funk
The increasingly drunk
Sounds of clacking
Feels like its lacking
Its own song

I would like to go home to a hollow house
But there's always some sound there
And it's not the books
It's the everything else
The humans
And their lives
Screaming out to be heard
But to what avail

I wish I
wrote better
poetry.

She sighs and
everything is okay
With the world

I would like to go home to a hollow house
But there's always some sound there
And it's not the books
It's the everything else
The humans
And their lives
Screaming out to be heard
But to what avail

I find my time
With the
People I want to spend the lesser of my time
with
Undeniably so
Spinning loose thoughts and phrases
That cultivate nothingness
Why am I here
I ask
But
There is no answer
Only people

The way she
Looks at me makes me
Feel like dawn

sometimes its hard to
be happy with her around
but then i just smile

If i never drank  
I don't think
I would understand
How people work
When i've been drunk
I wouldn't have tried
I think i wouldn't
Have opened my mind to
Who people could be
Or was it before
the drink and muck
That i understood what
Lie underneath
Most of our skins
It was within
That i had to defend
Who am i
The drink decried
What is it that i satisfy?
The answer i sat
And had to contemplate
I do not know what of me you sate
Is it the lonesome parts of my soul
And the inevitable toll
I had to pay
Drinking may
Make me feel like dust
And like water can rust
The metal it touches
Drinking crutches
My own mind
I find
That when i embibe
I scribe  
Out some trivial trouble
Like forgetting five o’clock stubble
To alleviate my soul
I repeat the rhyme with toll
As to make something known
It is not that I am alone
I have passed that part
Of me. Its the art
That i've seeked out
With the rhyme
Rather than some superfluous
Amount of timing  
I've forgotten the purpose
As always.
When I drink
I listen to myself

I enjoy her
But to what avail
To string her along
With heartfelt sadness
So she could be near
And I won't be lost
But depression she owns and
Her happiness I collect on