Boom Boom
Bam Bam
You hear that?, It’s a heart that beats for you.

It kicks and flips and dips for you
It wraps love up and unzips for you

Boom Boom
Bam Bam
You hear that, It’s a heart that stays with you.

It drops and lifts the day for you
Would cross the milky way for you
Misses you by night, so it choses to pray for you
It would go away or stay for you

Boom Boom
Bam Bam
You hear that, It’s a heart that breaks for you.

I'm sorry
2. Every time I look at you, I don’t really mean to
3. I’m sorry
4. I’m sorry
5. I wish love didn’t feel like a boomerang that I cast out but can never seem to catch
6. If we formed a band, I’d hope we’d be called something cool like The Cure or Naughty by Nature
7. You’re the only person I’ve dreamt about lately...and it’s pretty weird considering we don’t talk
8. I don’t know how to start a conversation with you, hi is too little, hello is too much
9. Have you ever heard that one Modern English song? Ya know, “I saw the world crashing all around your face, I made a pilgrimage to save this human race”, It makes me think of you.
10. I’m sorry for making too many 80's song references, you’re a lot like them.
11. Strangers aren’t strangers anymore once they know each other, and friends aren’t friends any more once they become strangers, so what am I to do when my friends become strangers?, can we be friends again…
12. I’m sorry

When I gaze in your direction, I take off my glasses now.
So that maybe the fuzzy feeling in my chest can match my fuzzy eyes when they look at you.

How I went from there to here is thick, and hard to glance through.
You go from beautiful in detail to unrecognizable and i think maybe that makes it easy.

This is the first time you’ve ever talked to me after 17 years. So a resounding “*******” is probably in order.
2. You calling me buddy, calling me son, calling me in general ****** me off so much I don’t think you understand.
3. Yes you’re in prison, but why in the hell would I wanna see you there? I can’t punch you while you’re in prison.
4. You say you look like Jim Morrison, which really grinds my gears because I used to like Jim Morrison.
5. You giggled, saying that you needed to stay out of trouble, that’s ironic, I was raised to believe you were trouble. Like if I opened a dictionary, the definition would clearly read: “ Trouble: Your Dad”
6. I’ve written countless letters, dauntlessly imagined speaking to you, but it isn’t true until you are in front of me. I’m...Paralyzed as though the world has utterly managed to flip.
7. Hearing your voice already disgusts me
8. I don’t think you understand the amount of venom i’ve had spit into my veins, the amount of toxin, the evolution and evaporation I’ve undergone.
9. I’m not a mans man, maybe you can’t accept that.
10. I didn’t say much, but now I wish i had, and I think perhaps if I had tried, the message wouldn't be able to escape my mouth, like a woodpecker your existence poked at my brain, picked me apart, and...I love you dad...

Do you taste it?
The ease and cool mystification she gives you…
The addiction like a passionate revival

Do you feel it
The gratification she grants
BAM you’re baked like a cake
Her lips like a love potion
Her hips like LSD and you’re riding the cool waves of Janis Joplin

Do you need it?
That midnight body on you like I did
Those ******* hands, that ******* tenderness

Do you **** it?
Like there is no tomorrow, do you make that body quease under you?

Little do you know she’s toxic, like a cigarette between your teeth
Swallowing the forsaken **** up that is your whole being
She is like a tear rolling down your cheek, exposing you.
You’re in deep and in love with a *******…
Cigarette

I wish my hands could explore your body like astronauts in the cosmos
Your eyes, like interstellar stars, connecting to the inconceivable constellation network that are your thoughts, like safe havens for space travelers.

I would pin you to the edges of a galaxy.
Kiss you like I were being ****** into a black hole and our lips were all that was holding me back, and as the dark unforgiving void that is something I can’t even comprehend begins to devour my being, I would be satisfied with this universal exploration of a life.

I would paint you into a celestial being.
Astronomers would gaze in awe.
No matter the eccentricity, My gravity would forever rotate amid such a pulchritudinous space.

Amid something so milky.

To Love You Is To Love Malnourished.

You used to serve I Love Yous with my Morning Coffee.
Kisses With My Creamer.
Sing “You Are My Sunshine” With My Sugar.
Stir It up in a blender.

To Love You Is To Love Malnourished.

You Used to ask Questions About My Day.
Serve Feedback With My Steak.
Sing To The Records That I’d Play.
I Think About You Every Day.

To Love You Is To Love Malnourished

Now Days and Nights are all too Similar.
Missing You Has Become All Too Familiar.
I Miss You In The Summer, The Fall, And The Winter.
I Look into the Mirror.
At My Figure Without Filter.
I Don’t Know My Mom, My Dad, Or My Sister.
Tears Flow Like a River.

To Love You Is To Love Malnourished

To Wake up at Midnight.
Write a Poem about the Moonlight.
Write our Names out and then Rewrite
You’re My Busted Up Brake Light
Unable to Fly Box Kite
Poems That I Recite
Late To School Stop Lights
Oklahoma Frostbite

To Love You Is To Love Malnourished
Look at Every Picture.
Listen to The Scriptures.
Wish That I Could Be With Her.
Wish Our Love Was Thicker, and Richer, and Didn’t Go Quicker.

To Love You Is To Love Malnourished

When The One That You Love You Have To Unsee.
They What You Love You Have To Set Free.
Choice A was to Love, She Choose Choice B.
Call Me Rude, Hateful, and OutRight Obscene.
But To love You Like I Do Is Painful and Weak.

To Love You Is To Love Malnourished.

Sometimes, I swear I can feel my chest concaving at the thought of you.
I find interest in the fact that sometimes I want to be near you, but sometimes,  I wish you were an ocean away.

Sometimes I look at my mother,  and pray I'm not like her, but other times,  I wish I could be more like her because that would make my life so much easier.

Sometimes, I cry alone at night.
I sit unaccompanied and begin to gorge myself on memories and guilt that I am certain will forever haunt me.
And during the day.
I think about how many more days I must suffer before I can be me freely.

Sometimes, I wish I was as much of a physical man as my brother is.  
Because sometimes,  like when we have a relatives birthday, or a celebration, he is glorified for his ability to be ox-like.
And while I sit here only weighing 130 pounds and having the strength of a rubber chicken I feel as though every bit of breath I breathe is not with the carbon my lungs put out.

Sometimes I think about you.
And how you're with him.  
And it makes me sick.
Because sometimes. . .
I wish sometimes didn't exist

When my friend committed suicide, I didn’t find out directly.
I found out through a teacher. I was called in the office later that day along with everyone connected with my group of friends.


We sat there, and as the counselor told us why suicide was bad they gave us a pamphlet from the back wall.


How? How could they put suicide alongside ******, ecstasy, ***, AIDS, Party Drugs, Teen Alcohol, Texting and Driving.
Depression is not something offered at parties or given out for 20$ a pop. Depression doesn’t make you tipsy or destroy brain cells.
FREDDIE MERCURY DIDN”T DIE FROM DEPRESSION.


Like that pamphlet my eyes were opened.
Bi-Folded and Arranged like an informational epiphany

The first thing that I noticed when I walked into the psychiatric hospital was how cold the floor tiles were.
You See, they took my shoes off because I was a thirteen year old, five and one half foot, one hundred and ten pound threat.
I made grown men think I was off my edge...and looking back on me, I was.


I mean, killing myself? That’s the ultimate game show bet.
“WHAT’S BEHIND CURTAIN NUMBER DEATH” I seemed to ask myself.
And also, what games would I have to play to get there.
How long do you have to hang to die?
How much blood would it take to bleed to death?
How fast does my mother have to be going on the freeway to make my jumping death quick?
HOW MUCH OXYCODONE DO I HAVE TO STEAL FROM MY ABUSIVE STEP FATHERS DRAWER?
Someone would have to be mad to even bother looking behind that curtain.


But like I said, the first thing i noticed was the floor tiles.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Today I am Taking You to an Amusement Park.
You Know It? It’s right between Bastardville and LonelyTown.


My favorite ride is depression, it goes so far down!
Abuse is like a Kiddie Ride.
The Bully Stand has the best Food imaginable.


Oooooooo, or have you been to The Freak Show?
It’s by the Broken Home Balloon Stand.
Ooooo, The tension on insecurity, and G-Force on Divorce will drive you WILD.


I love the Rejection food stand, they have some delicacies like the slit wrist salad bar, or even the starvation sandwich.


Shall I Go On?
The final ride is called SUICIDE, often times it breaks down, but when you ride it you won’t want to leave....

It was all a blur...the day I met you
A headache of which 200 MG of Ibuprofen would not satisfy
You might as well have cut my forehead open and questioned if its contents were love or lust
I didn’t know
I had a headache

Oh it was a doozy
Whew Whew Whew
Thoughts whizzed around my head in zip a dee doo das
Fugazi's of  Love or Lust
I don’t know
I have a headache

I was once able to improvise love
No I..I..Is
No Uh or Ums
Just I love you....
I didn’t realize that I never meant it

Then, one day, she arrived
The only available words were....Hi
Cheeks
Cheeks Cheeks Cheeks
I wanted to kiss her cheeks like it was the first time eating an apple
I wanted to kiss her cheeks like it was a chocolate cake and I was five
I wanted to kiss her cheeks like yesterday was the day i was given the gift of lips
I...I...I..wanted to kiss her cheeks like..Um..Uh

I was Once Able to Improvise Love

I don’t know how many times i’ve had to use a number two pencil.
Whether Ticonderoga or some off brand.
As though number one is something you cannot mention.
As though number one is something too fragile for you.

I don’t know how many ways I could compare myself to a number one pencil.
Other boys and girls prohibit interaction with both of us.
Limited interaction with us is necessary.
It’s as though we have no purpose among this world.

It’s required to use a number two just like it’s required to shut your mouth when you’re seventeen
Adults tell me, “you will use a number two”.
Their voices like thunder enveloping my opinion making it evaporate with all beauty and sense I withhold.

It’s been a repetition.
Number two number two number two.
Number two is used number one so technically number one is number two.
Number two number two number two
Number in all

Number two to my father, number two to my peers, number two in grades, anxiety, depression, the relationships in which they’ve been unfaithful, inexhaustible cravings for escape but suicide will make me number one
So technically, when you’ve sharpened  number twos to their limit, they become number one.