**** 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.

I just want to write one more,
      before I become an adult again.

And just like that,
         He's back to square one
                Feeling a lowly sort of depressed
         He thought was over
Oh so long ago

Drink me away
Drink me away
Drink me near

Where's you fridge
I need a beer
To help forget
And to add more calories
I didn't eat today
I hope my momma's proud of me

Give me love
Give me life
Give me *** for memory

***** and redbull
Is my frenemy

Bring me to waters,
Early in the morn.
Bring me to waters,
Two doors from the dorm.

My father always had a picture
hanging up over the mantle.

It was an oil,
possibly acrylic, painting.

I've always been terrible with art,
and the definitions and distinctions
therein.

It had a gold-leaf frame, and I recall,
as a child, staring at the shine
that the sun reflected off of the
beautiful gold that surrounded the
picture.

The picture itself, however, was
far more extraneous:
a deer head and the body of a businessman.

The suited businessman's body sat in a chair,
within the painting, but instead of a man's head
poking out of the collar, there was a deer's head.
It was adorned with antlers, two to be exact, and
it sat above that mantle, staring emotionless into you
or the distance.

I was never sure which it was.

And after my father passed, I inherited the deer head
and the body of a businessman.

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.

Wet, dripping
Hot, sweaty
Meatpacking shop
Cutting up cows
Cold ***** in your local safeway
I have no *******

They say miming of one's work is the best flattery
Those scientists better check their hypotenuses

Poem getting grizzly
***** better have my honey

S.O.S.
Willing to give and receive
oral ***
to and from the opposite gender

I nearly shouted in an airport
I nearly came on your face: short

there was nothing there
There was nothing there

Crazy people with their crazy hairs
Lazy husbands with their Lay-Z chairs

I nearly ******* myself up.
I ******* myself up.
I ******* myself.
****.

Lustful irrealities succumbing to brain thoughts
in the part of mine own crime scene

Is it really that bad?
Is it really that bad?
Am I really that bad?
****.

Apple bottom *******
I take time for snitches

Stitches for fourth degree burns
I’ll meet you in the ditches

The trenches
The sneakers

The benches
For tweakers

Let’s be family on the further side
Of normal

Let’s be ******* on the closer side
Of formal

I rhyme when it comes to me
I shine when she **** to me

You, you son of a Think
Everything I You did for you.
You piece of Can
What the Censor did you think would happen?
Are you Me surprised?
You shouldn’t be,
You *******.

He sat, completely repentant
He had hurt her before, he knew
There was defeat in his shoulders

"I would like to pray about this," he said, searching for change in a greater aspect.

Beratement
Scolding
She needs a husband who's going to be around
Better around beating than away?
He had put that past behind him
She felt reason to bring it up
Over
And
Over
She needs a husband
He's there, but apparently,
Not enough
Miscommunication
Frustration
Defeat in his being

She keeps talking and talking
Saying the same things over and over
Beating him with the same verbal stick
He feels awful
He knows his wrongs
He lacks self forgiveness
He fears himself
He fears losing her due to his own actions

He desires to pray
He wants, and is seeking change
She's stuck
Stick in hand
Ready,
On the attack

Prayer
She's stuck in a
Loop
No forgiveness in the
Hardened heart
He's defeated,
Wanting so badly for change

I thought I'd write something about breakups
But then I gave up

And that made me happier.

Angry skies and gnarled trees
Fish fly by in the wind
Spitting out water
Unbreathing

Pavement's grand fissures
Bushes with briars
Five feet long
Tearing at the flesh of passersby

Grass of razors
Chairs of torture
Tables of barbed wire
Disneyland

I could be on Ecstasy
But I’m not.
I’m a pill.

I could be on Crack or ****,
But I’m not
I’m white, and rock solid

I could be on Marijuana,
But I’m not
I don’t even have enough green to buy groceries.

I could be on poetry,
But I’m not
I’m just formal and wordy.

I just sent an email to my Mom.
Part of me feels it
Part of me wonders if I'm overdramatic

I feel like ****.
Like, I feel different than when I felt depressed
But this is still not a place I want to be

Consistent
Draining
I never feel ok anymore.
I'm not even sure what ok feels like.

I keep wanting to drink for all the wrong reasons
I never get drunk
But I always want to reach that happy nirvana
That "tipsy enough to forget all your worries" place
There's something seriously wrong with me

I haven't actually talked to my family in AZ for over a month
I schedule skype dates with a woman I'll probably never see again
More than I do with my own father.
What type of **** is that?

I looked at ****, I ****** myself today.
I feel like the biggest ******* this planet has seen.

I also lack self forgiveness.

I got an email back from a priest today.
I told him I'd be interested in joining the priesthood
I realized I might have been lying,
But honestly,
I don't even know!
I feel like I'm sitting on my thumb,
Trying to figure out the world as it
Races by me,
Unwilling to stop and allow me to catch my breath
Or read the signs or understand a **** shred of anything

This is what I'm talking about
Part of me feels this,
And the other part just scoffs, and says I'm melodramatic
Pick yourself up
Dust yourself off and figure out
what the hell you're doing

I feel so alone anymore.
Like, if there's not someone by my side
I somehow lack basic humanity.
Like I need someone to be there
If they aren't, I'm obviously not worth much

I closed the blinds four different times today.
I didn't want the neighbors to see my actions.
After a certain point, I closed them to watch a movie
And I haven't opened them back up,
even though
it would probably cheer me up a great deal

This is probably one of the longest "poems"
I've ever written.
It's not poetry, it's freestyle
Not like it matters,
It's like an art major defining the different strokes that an artist used in a painting
Like I give a ****
It's still a painting

Lent is one of the hardest times of the year.
I feel it with every fiber of my being.
Nothing about this situation makes me feel ok.
I feel out of body, out of mind, out of soul.
I'm pretty sure, at this point, St. Peter wouldn't let me in.
In my heart of hearts I want it desperately, but
The rest of me still says no.

I'm so messed up it's ridiculous.
And I sent an email to my mom chronicling her son's failures
Her son's issues,
And why,
Her son
Needs to go back to a counselor
Because I'll be ****** if he's not "fixed" yet.

Allow me
For a moment
To run my face along the keys

Listening to hip-hop
It's the mainstream poetry
Spoken word to beat
Bring the anger,
The fury
The feelings
Expressions

But make sure it's ****
God forbid
If it's not ****, it's pathetic,
Right?
Wrong.
Well, for me.

Bring me emotions
All colors
Bring me depth of spirit
Dark and light
Bring me truth
I want to see the world in your
perpective.

Bring me music,
Of all kinds
Just know that now,
Hip-hop is keeping me busy.

I have no clue
What I'm doing right now.

Normally, I have something to write
But today is poorly lacking

Too many arguments in just as many days
Comebacks are the things I'm saving

Did I mention virginity?
Want to see my V-card?

Let's call this high school baby,
I can be your point-guard

Sexuality and innuendos
Silence, is what I need.
Let's play horse, baby
I'll be your steed

The Kuwait Warriors are in my Jeans
My new favorite cartoon
Saturday mornings, sugar cereal, spoons
I use force to deal with the mentally ill

Prison gauge my earrings, brah
Psychiatric hospitals for playtime with myself

I can ******* to hippopotamus
Look to me like I’m amazing
I’ll be a living god

Not really, more flu shots
Put them in my eye
Sky for my eye and flanksteak for my heart
Give me all the Bacon and Eggs you have

I call my mustache the crop duster
Cuz I’m always cleaning bush with it
Blow a load
Of cash
On my body shots

Yellow jackets’ yellow jackets
Licorice made of Venison
Stand over there, quite queer, my dear
While I drink a handle of Jameson

**** wizards and Eddie Izzard
Speak to me in glad tidings
Astronauts, sweet lizards' space gizzards
Jump over the back of book bindings

***** the misconceptions
Drive off the road into gravy
Split the checks, and **** on decks
Mistake my sound perceptions

Habeus Corpus
Parlay with ***
Start with darts
And move to the porpoise

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 sat and visited for a long hour today.
I sat and talked for a while.
I was all alone save for you,
My dearest of dear friends.

I haven’t seen another soul,
Save for you,
In, well, I can’t recall how long.

And I can’t say I’m too saddened.

There’s blood stains on the walls
Simply because you asked for it.
Though they've longed turned brown.

You've been walking through the halls,
Now.
I do hope you're happy.

Business formal
With Ticks in the collar

The people that came here,
I still hear the hollers.

The house is empty,
Save for you.
The house is empty.
The house is empty.
Save for you.

You're my inheritance,
From my long dead father,
My dearest of dear friends.
The deer head and the
body of a businessman.

A werewolf in London
and a deadite in my basement
Ghosts in my TV
as Predators hit the Pavement

Engineers face the stars
On distant planets far
As Aliens bleed green
Leaving armor charred

The king of Lizards
sets foot in San Diego
With a Chupacabra
dwelling in Mexíco

Zombie Redneck Torture families
Say goodbye to the cashpot
Merman flopping forward, determined
A man's face really hits the spot

I have a hotpocket for lunch
And an appetite for destruction
Let's turn on the TV
And use it for one function

eight, nine
nine, eight, nine
Hello, father, spare me a dime,
and pay the mime with
five landmines;
******* the bridge if
we've got time.

Appalachian Yeti-man:
set fire to the trashcan.
Call me hobo-stan,
and if the beard fits
grow it.

Show it;
show me the D.
Dentistry,
stay with me;
Explain for free:
"Dichotomy
of the mind"
thoughtfully,
for a time.

Robot-o me,
Mr. Oregato.
Set phasers to ****
stunningly.
Make fun of he
for bad grammar
and intellectuality.
He dumber;
me smarter.
She's aderall;
I'm martyr.

Destroy my innards,
Captain.
I need them not.
She leaves me rot,
and he feeds me Scott.

Scottie doesn't know
that Fiona and me
eat him in a van while
he's sleeping.
Cannibal,
call me Hannibal,
and she's the Jane to my
Tarzan,
pulling the fruits of
my loom.

There's blood on the floor
And gristle on his cleaver
\
  Masks in the box at the corner
  of the small apartment flat
/
Hidden behind a moto-helm
Driving by fun, of the socio-style
\
  Richard, Phil, Charlie, the gang
  Over the head, face remains changed
/
Travel through the Phonehom
Slashing through the fleshy barriers
\
  Coming on a grisly scene
  Awaiting something new to see
/
Quick rap-tapping
Keyboard strokes
\
  Pushing through the double doors
  This is it folks

For the US, for the US!
The *****'s will fall
  But these two,
  At the moment, don't know it
  At all

Anachronous monogamy
Schwarzenegger gets to the choppa
Invisible maliciousness awaits to those who
Explore the jungles, Danny Trejo just wants help
Crisis in the management takes two eggs to heal it
Two eggs, two dregs, two more lines to make it through
The day. **** like howitzers, snake in my trousers, wearing overalls
Doesn’t make me gay. Pig farmers, snake charmers, **** undercover, pigs
Make the best companions. Dead of night, chill or fright, I’m here so talk to me.

He sits in overwhelming
Silence

In a sense, protesting what was ne'er to
Be

With a beer in one hand, and work in the
Other

There's much to be done,
Here

This silence, he
Realizes

Is like an interwoven
Blanket

Seemingly nothing gets
Through

Not even what he needs
Most

Another, another! My fine-feathered brother
Tie me to the post and set me alight
I read the many poems you wrote
Please gag me with a spoon

I expect around 6 inches. Hoagie rolls of Garlic and cheese
Subway to the nearest, newest country
Let’s build nuclear weapons
Burn this mother down

I tore my shirt open when I looked at your mouth
The **** that I saw was more than I could handle
Let’s get crazy, baby
Let’s play schizophrenia

Foreplay, moreplay, doorplay, whoreplay
Rhyming is the second cutest thing you can do
With your mouth
Start yelling, I will, I will!
Champagne drownings

I refuse to stop now,
See I'm only just beginning

Veil over the collective
Eye(s)
Let's move from spiritualism
Pentagrams and upside down crosses
Illuminati to satanism

Let's put it in modern music,
We're gonna die young

Let's lose ourselves in lust
In sweat
In pagan ritualism
Let's go for shock value
Over the normal cynicism

Let's drink ourselves to death
And ****** into life

I can't believe
This is modern music.

Crude and ****** words are for the crude and ****** birds
As I ****, ****, ****, and otherwise defecate on everything that ever mattered to you or I

Clever sweat beads cascade off the forehead of someone far more important than I
And the cleverest of intentions leave the cleaverest wounds in the forethoughts of those who I care for

Nevermind you or I, or the fact that these words have yet to grace the thought-o-sphere,
let us be, let us me
Let us remember who we tried to aren't.

Insecurities be ******,
I have words.

Anatomy
An-at-oh-mee
Will you make a friend with me?

Curves and hairs
And you-know-wheres
Lips and tips
Of fingers
Linger

Kisses from misses
And dangers from strangers
What clothes can hide

Familial and not
Familiar and never-known
Embraces
Bright faces
And moods to go along

Anatomy
Anatomy
Great, beautiful anatomy
Sculpted in clay
Finer than diamonds

When life is up,
To the ground with thee,
Anatomy
From dust
To dust

******* alike angels, allowing acts almost as awful as ****

I like to pretend I'm a bomb
(During ***)
Watch me blow up (Covered in Latex)
Contamination,
like a good bomb squad (We hit the deck)
*******
******* on false pretense (We can make it to the kitchen)
Baby, baby, baby
Cradle-rocking ******* on the back seat frame
(You promised to give me brain)
I'm the scientist of my own demise (Turning truth into twisted lies)
I listen to the same music for every emotion
(I am backwards, spinning ocean)
I've been swearing less (But that doesn't matter here)
**** Epitome
(Holiday Cheer)
Put it in your mouth, it's so much cuter (I stay sitting by the computer)
I can be clever, I can be ******
(I can keep springtime into October)