There's a poem hidden on my tongue
but I just can't find it,
my mouth is numb.

I've been sipping on winter for way too long,
this city is colder than your bubbler ****;

but I like the way it's one way streets all seem to lead from you to me,
and I like how you take them at full throttle
playing marco polo with the bottom of the bottle-

-As if you don't find it every night;
like the last few drops aren't your lullaby.

And it's an alibi that lulls you out of lucidity,
because your favourite superpower is anonymity.

And you don't mind if I show up when I'm ******* high,
because I'm a ******* child who can't handle life.

I'm the peak of the mountain all covered in white,
I'm the age old dragon,
I'm the youthful sprite

I'm the bowl that you smoke when you come down slowly,
I'm the pipe that you **** when you got no rollies.

I'm your vice, I'm your habit, I'm your bad addiction
I'm your fight, I'm your project, I'm your real life fiction.

I'm the cut on your tongue that you won't let heal,
I'm the poem in your mouth that you cannot feel.

Now I'm the lover of your discontent,
I'm the jar in your cupboard that's labelled 'rent'.

It's the 26th and the jar's still empty,
but we've got a two-six and your pouring hand's heavy.

Using whisky and water as lubrication-
it numbs and smooths through our expectations.

And I don't know when we made the agreement to feed our ***** and starve our feelings,
But my belly feels full like the waxing moon,
and my chest holds as much as a fractured spoon.

*Naked and hungry-
we share your bed
-searching for the words, in each other's heads.

Do you ever wake up and feel like anything is possible?

As if anything you decide to do that day is the right thing. The perfect thing. You can make no wrong choices. You could get hit by a car and it would be the best thing to ever happen to you, because it happened today.

You decide to wander around the city where you've live. Where you've lived for years, but now, today, you see the place as a newcomer. A tourist in your own town. Every building beckons, and what better one to visit first than the bookstore?

Everyday should start with a trip to the bookstore, you think.

The small shop is full of staff recommendations and ratings from the internet. Every cover tempts you. They all seem so ******* interesting. You want to pick them up and eat them whole. Digest them all at once. This reminds you that you'll never have enough time to read everything, but instead of bleak, this prospect seems romantic. It means that every book you do get to read is much sweeter. And it's cool, because you get to join the book's club. The story becomes the common denominator between you and a bunch of strangers who've also read it.

There's a woman working at the book store. She talks to you about Thailand and this yoga retreat she just returned from. It sounds beautiful. She's beautiful. So beautiful in fact, you think she may be the most beautiful person you've ever seen. That's nice.

You leave the book store with nothing, as it's too overwhelming to try and pick a book, and it was enough just to look at them.

On the street you notice everyone seems as perfect as the woman did. Flawless. Whole. With their experiences carried on their shoulders, bursting through their eyes and spun into the palms of their hands. Everyone has a million little moments, memories and ideas all caught up in their hair and tucked into their pockets.

And they bring all of these moments into every interaction they have. Everyone who meets you sees you slightly differently. Because when they speak to you, they don't see you simply as you are in this moment. That's how an infant would see you. No, an adult sees you compared to the last person they spoke to, you become tinged with the taste of someone they know who has your same name. They see you with a hint of hatred because your eyes look like their ex-girlfriend's, or they adore you immediately because you said hello the way their father does. Do you understand? When you meet someone, you're meeting their entire life. All of their experiences bundled up and traveling around on two legs. Every interaction unwittingly influenced by all of their predetermined notions and assumptions.

So. Here, you've realized this overwhelming awesome fact. Which you don't really know how to explain, but when you try you find yourself saying things like; "It's like we can't ever really know anyone, you know?" or "When was the last time you cried?" or "I hope I see her again." but in the end you don't mind if you don't. See her, I mean. You don't mind that you'll never see the woman again.  Like maybe she and you were only supposed to have that moment in the bookstore. Just a flash of personality in each others day. A random face that will show up in a dream two years from now. And when you wake up you'll wonder if she dreamt of you too.

That would be ok. That would be good. Because if nothing else, it's nice to be dreamt about now and then. Yes, you think, that would be enough.

Everyday I hang myself
I nail myself
I staple myself to the wall

Everyday I bleed myself
I let myself
I rub my blood out in the hall

Everyday I hate myself
berate myself
I get out of bed and mandate myself
to update myself
to curate myself
Artist the **** up and create myself

Everyday I design myself
define myself
I put on my face and outline myself

Everyday I dissect myself
I correct myself
Take out my parts and infect myself

I change myself
rearrange myself
I paint all my organs and stain myself

Everyday I reword myself
martyr myself
Use the strings from the Beats to suture myself

I collect myself
Resurrect myself
My volition in life; to perfect myself

If I fail myself
derail myself
I'll have nothing but a cheap veil of myself;
a shattered bulb
a melted fuse
a pack of matches burned and used.

No supernova,
glory,
fame.
No concrete star,
with golden name.

Forgotten, faded,
dusty muse.
Mona Lisa,
cut and bruised.
My blood still smeared all down the hall,
my skin still nailed up to the wall.
My body scarred from mutilation,
mapped attempts at self-creation.
A jagged,
torn up,
constellation,
The Hero of Humiliation.

Don't we all fear failure's kiss?
For if you shoot
for the moon
and miss,
*you'll rot away in the abyss.

will you live with me in poverty?
will you stay with me till broke?

will you take my hand and walk with me?
will you hate that I still smoke?

will you let me buy my cigarettes
when it’s them or food to eat

will you let me dodge my student debt?
will you help me steal and cheat?

will you let me write on anything?
even our own ***?

will you hold me down and call my name?
will you be my worst regret?

will you tie your fingers in my hair
on the nights that I can’t sleep

can you watch strange films with me?
can you stand my brazen cheek?

will you run away when I get scared?
will you stay here when I go?

will you judge my nasty vices dear?
will you laugh at all my jokes?

can I bite your neck all night
can I wear your clothes


do you mind that I can’t cook a thing?
do you mind that I can’t even sing?
do you care that I can’t stand myself?
do you think that I’m an easy fling?


Will you leave me when I do too much
or will you hold me while I shake

will you let me wear more ink than cloth?
will you hunt the demons that I’ve got?

will you help me **** my darlings true?
will you love me when my beauty’s through?

will you hold my skin while it rots off?
will you drink my blood when it’s got clots?

will you cut me open when I’m dead?
will you share for free what I have said?

will you keep my heart in a glass jar?
will you sell my teeth at a bizarre?

will you read my bones to know your fate?
will you let my innards dress your cake?

Will you take all that I’ve ever done
and show it to the midnight sun
can you leave me lying on the ice
so I never know true paradise

For I want to wander this ****** place
until your body’s in decay
and when you can’t stand another day
I’ll deliver your sweet coupe de grace

You look good with the lights real low
You look good when the music's slow
Tell me how you speak such prose
When all you do is say hello

You smell sweet in the summer rain
And you sound hot when you spit disdain

You curve my mind when you bend your back
and you give me what my body lacks

You feel like butter on my skin
You taste like cake when it's baked real thin

You look real cute when you're smoking soft
You look so nice when your clothes are off

Turn me into what you see
Cuz I can't tell what you see in me

I'm falling here into your hair
Soft and light like kindling fare

It's odd and sweet how you look so sour
When I come home too late an hour

It's crazy how you drive me sane
It's hazy how you clear my brain

Baby I'm just lying here
Wishing you were coming near
Hoping that you'll head my way
From your dimension out in space

Dazzle though, you have your place
and I'll just lie in shadows wait

Fractured prism glitter gleam
like a trick of light off a crystal peak;
You're nothing but a fleeting dream
A puff of smoke;
Dispersing steam

skip me, shun me
never touch me,
don't give in to my rushed lusting

bend me, break me
just forsake me,
leave me to my wild chasings

lose me, leave me
don't believe me,
when I say you'd get me screaming

haunt me, flaunt me
mock and taunt me,
tell the world you'll never want me

grab me, stab me
never have me,
tell me how you cannot stand me

fry me, tie me
crucify me,
leave me cuffed up; hang and dry me

beat me, bruise me
over-use me,
*****, abuse and tear into me

throw me, *******
get below me,
show me how you'll never stroke me

rip me, **** me
tongue and take me,
come inside and rearrange me

cut me, gut me
shame and **** me,
rip my heart out while you **** me

kick me, ditch me
pull-unstitch me,
spread my limbs and leave me twitching

tie me, lye-formaldehyde me,
out of sight and out of mind me,
live your life while I am dying,
pray no one will ever find me.