When will I stop being selfish?
Reality check:
I’m better than most it seems
Won’t get away
Still feeling less than great

When will I stop being selfish?
In conversation
I’ll take you the way I want to go
Won’t get away
Let me spill out information

When will I stop being selfish?
Everyday
I don’t spend time with you
Won’t get away
Don’t allow me to

I need you.

One more poem, I guess
Just for tonight
High of musical melodies
Take another hit of that sound

I want to do alliteration
But ******* buy back
And I forget my place.

I haven’t spoken in a while
Like, really spoken
I remember saying
“The best times are when I’m speaking”
And then I outright
Avoid it.

I bathe in this now.
It disgusts me.
I ******’ bathe in this now
Don’t look up, you’ll drown

What to take
From a life with no lies?
With trials,
tribulations,
temptations,
troubles
And No black ink
On the body of ideals

Father’s happy
Mother’s happy
Brother and Sister
Jealous and angered
Frustrated and battered
Tired and at loss

Cup’s over flown
Body is gone
Wine spilled forth
Bread passed down
Taken as what is
He is.

Speak me up
I really like to hear it.

Beam me up
I really want to appear
Like
I know what I’m doing
In front of a large crowd

You want the truth?
I’ll give it.
I want to scream out-loud

Let’s be scared together
I know that I know nothing
I hope you know more
If you don’t
That’s fine
Let’s be scared together

I’d like to try that **** where I don’t rhyme
I say to the willow tree as I sit beside her

I like men who are creative
This is me trying to be THAT guy
Honestly, though, I don’t think it’s working

I’m stuck inside most days
It used to be self-inflicted
But it’s paid, now… is that the same?

Like a grandfather clock
I’m passing back and forth on this ever
Wavering face of feelings marked as numbers

Like ******* clockwork, I can almost time my feelings
There’s the norm for you.
Have I scared you away yet?

Hell, I don’t think you’d ever say honestly.
I could always be wrong though…
But will you look at me the same?

I can’t seem to be a man in either respect.
I don’t **** ******* and punch *****
But I don’t give up myself and hang on sticks.

I don’t know where I am
And that last stanza left a ******* taste
Than the aftertaste of lemon shanty.

Yeah, that ******.

I probably would have died today
Well,  I could have
Ok, probably not
Well,
possibly

I mean,
I never thought I'd be here
At least, not earlier
Not even today, really

I'm speaking nonsense
I hope you didn't expect any better
I'm giving my two cents
Come, get to know me better

In reality, back to the beginning
I think everyday we could die
Why am I alive today?
I'm really not sure.
There's a greater purpose,
if you're into that.
No
There's a greater purpose.
I'm not sure I could live otherwise.

Is this getting through to you,
reader?
Reader are you there?
I do seriously hope you are.
It's cold here.
Here in the writer's gallows
You can leave me hanging
I don't mind

I might die today
Are you there?
We could die today

My tummy box is broken
Said the man to the spoon
******* rhymings
To satisfy good tidings
Fake smiles to satisfy
Good people

Satisfied with what I make
Dissatisfied with what I take
Broken satisfaction
A one-man factioned

We all suffer from
Insecurities
So take what’s best of me.
I seem to be the worst at what I do.

Can I visit weekly? Is that cool by You?
I can make a fool of myself at least once a week.
Can you turn so I can smack Your other cheek?
4th wall broken, here’s a token of my gratitude.
I play the fool for a feeling that’s earthly
Wait with baited breath, I’m almost done.

FBI shopping, lets find a bomb to blow.
Legalize this to make me okay with it.
Let’s party it up to make me feel better.
A good grind to get my mind off things.

Opposing the opposable
Folding to the foldable
All I am seems worthless
All I am seems ridiculous.

I use poetry to please her
Food to feed her
And sometimes I eat her

I gotta write that down
**** that’s a good line.

Splittin’ rhymes in time
And I can’t flow off seconds

I need another break to catch
My own thoughts… and put them on paper

I imagine birds trying to fly
But you catch them by the tail
And slam them on their faces

Their corpse limp in the bitter
Embrace of your fingertips
Then you put them on that sheet
Of lined paper

Like the stuff you wrote on
In grade school

Pretty it up a bit.
Draw some lines on it.
Put a bird on it
You got art
But  do you got poetry?

Give me praise
Give me money
Give me power
******* it all.

I mean it.

Let’s be ghosts together

Wavering between the physical
And the spiritual

Resonances of what we once were

Not to give any less credit to what we
Were

But ghosts

We could be that
Together

Forever

Not even death will
Do us part

21-year-old sensibilities
If it only came with sense.

Like that novel you may have read
in high school
You know the one:
Pride and Prejudice

Is this making any sense, yet?
Good, I hope not

My goal, in reality
is not to short change you,
the reader
I know you're there.

I could lie of blissful ignorance
Like cows in pasture
Chewing grass
and filling my own stomach(s)

Water reflections
Tasty confections
In the form of words
or embodiment in the soul

I could eat you up.

Drop
Drop
Drop

Hourglass speaking

Drop
Drop
Drop

Waterspout crying

Tap
Tap
Tap

Children’s aquarium

Tap
Tap
Tap

Pet store window

Scratch
Scratch
Scratch

Dog outside

Scratch
Scratch
Scratch

Poetry

If I were the man
Tom Cruise plays in Top Gun
I'd be half the man I once was

Truth is, however,
I've never seen the film

So call this premature enlightenment
Or idiosyncratic ignorance

I'll be here all the same.

I try to find myself in a bottle
It isn't working

I used to consider myself a part
of a bigger picture
I don't think that's how I
would define myself now

It hurts
Hearse rides
A journey to someplace greater
That's what I believe
It's what I've been told...
Or is it the other way
Around
Around
Around

Circles spinning
Clockwise
Counterclockwise
Pillar in the middle
Isn't nature beautiful?

Staring at a blank page
Why won’t my brain fit into you?
Poetry’s my new ****
I hope the cleanup’s easy

Jazzy enterprises
It’s time for some improv.
Do I look like a **** to you?
I say to my stepmom

If I wanted my comeback
I’d get it off your mom’s chin.
I love it now,
That faded, stupid grin.

Go **** your high horse,
I bet it’ll reach you.
Horses have big *****
Like the people who win web arguments

Congrats to you,
Oh ye fake SOB
Shakespeare, rather queer
Bites his thumb at thee

I can’t say I enjoy this
Painting on paper
Words being the brush
To which I’m engaged by

I’m doing this for you
You better know
I find no joy in this
Like war on veteran’s day.

**** this dude is annoying as hell
Says the over indulged little man on his
Hipster compy

Can you feel the self-loathing?
Good. Cuz, this is me slitting wrists

Nothing is really that impressive when you write it yourself
I’m never proud of the words
Arranged on paper

But ****, that guy can poet.
**** English, I do whatever I **** well please
Let me chill you.

I’ve heard children be labeled as mistakes
I still can’t believe that.
I could sit here and write salt all day
That **** would still surprise me.
Like a one-legged ****** bursting out of the cake on the 4th of July.