Looks small
Such piercing words
Such lack of care

Slamming letters onto paper
This is macaroni art for adults

Forgive me for being away,
I haven't stopped, you know
I've just become selective
Not that it'll show

I still write first-drafts
And pass them off as final

I'll show you some real stuff
This is cd vs. vinyl

If I blew up,
could you contain me?
Pretty please?

I sipped again
Slipped is similar,
But I'm not falling here,
I'm drinking.

Lusting
I can't get enough
And at the worst times
I'm slipping while sipping
And the cup spills across
My face

Visual destruction
Sink an anchor into my chest
And drop me into the waters
It won't be that hard;
I've been leaving myself open.

I swim to the surface,
Only to cut my own hamstring
So I can sink back into oblivion.

The fish aren't my friends here

Panic attacks in swift motion
Showing looks of anguish
Curled up on beds with ruffled sheets
Water in hand,
Matching the color of tears
On your face

Friends with little forethought
Playing cards with
******* who like their liquor
Selfishness abounds for children
Without responsibilities

"Let's get chronic,
I know a dealer."
"Come to the house with us,
the party's only beginning."

I may be a fly on the wall,
And I may be silent,
But know the thoughts in my mind
Are scathing.

Explosions in the sky
Wildfires in my eye
As I realize my composure's
Slowly dying

Alligator tears
And puppy dog fears
Bring the children
To the edge of madness

As I reside
A bedside manor
Filled with fears
Ghost stories
Lies

Break me down
Freddie Brown
And bring motivation back
Escape, Escape
Away I say
And Press Enter to confirm

I hope that someday
I'll write a hook
To please the great
Ear Worm

Dear *** of lake placid
You're making me flaccid

Give me something to chew down
Bite on

Give me that fire Burnin'
nightlong

Shake it like an earthquake
Polaroid picture

Givin' me heat, babay
This elixir

The bigger the badder
The flatter, the sadder

Girl, show off your ASSets.

And, ****, I lack chivalry

What I say and what I do
ne'er be they the same.

Talking like a pirate
Arrr, matey, play the game.

Dates of birth
and sketching turf

We're all sinners
consistent

Can I Write something that's life giving,
Now that I'm being persistent?

Lets wrote poor grammar
Syntax and spalling awry

I can't write worth anything,
And only sometimes, can tie a tie.

If I drink and I write
Will I be more coherent
Or will my thoughts
Be evermore etched into
Eternity

There's a smell on my breath
That doesn't translate to text
But I can walk on water for an illusion

Color this arrested development

Poignant
Time spent
Writing and wishing and dreaming

Alive or dead
Sit with bed head
And hope that I'm mentally streaming

I take this
I hope for you
I dream of calmer things

I write 4 lines with I as the starting of all things

Piece by piece
Oh puzzle Lord
Take away my mind thoughts

Break apart King Lizard's arms
Let's bring arm-ie support

Break the back over the creek of ill begotten thoughts
Let's walk the bridge
To forlorn, and ill-placed rots

I ought
I'm not
I've never been before

Break away from yesterday
Let this not be a bore

I am a line
stick me in or snort me, Courtney

Battle rap fake fools
in mind games and rhyme schemes
that really exist in your vehicle

I'll be blood work,
you play needle

Listened to Migos instead of the Beatles.

Though we both are dead
          Let me sip of bitterness

Hot ****,
**** your ****

There it's out,
and I'm quite
happy
with it

That's really all I gotta say
I hope it gets through to you
The way things've been going
I won't hold my breath

Like winds in the desert,
No one's there to hear it
If a tree falls in the woods,
and no one's there
Would you care?

Watching shows on HGTV
Let's do some renovation
Scared of your indifference
Out here I'll be pacing
I'm typing now, really typing
Dictated words to give to all of you.
I hope you're proud of me, Mom,
Cuz this one's not for you.

DIY you *******,
feel my hate and sit
Poetry's my anger piece,
I hope you've had enough of it

I almost gave into temptation
As the rocket passed by my bedroom
Eclipsing the moon in its O so delicate form

I couldn't arrange my feelings properly
And I can honestly say that I still can't

I look to my left
And sometimes I'm right
But I still write left

And I want to read,
But books are too far
And I want to love
But this is too bizarre

And never will I accept a falsehood under the hood of my car

Invisible mishaps in the happenings of France
Beat the backwards happenstance
And misplace everything that was never there

I thought of someone else today,
Someone from my past.
Nothing ever happened,
but I wonder how she's doing.
And part of me never cared to begin with.

Dear convictions,
Lose me friends
I knew it'd happen, truly

I wish my hands were rockets
So I could see the show
Watching them blast off, whe'er they go

I don't really want them anymore
So to them I wave adieu
Well, I would if I had hands...
Instead I flop arms
Like a seal waiting for a meal at your local circus

I pitch tents
And people sometimes visit (read: never)
but a few have wanted to see the show
And see me bark
They probly honk the horn better than I

In the end of the day I pray for a sickness to leave my body
And to not struggle anymore
But I don't think that's really the point
I think it's a story about rising above...
I'm still at the ocean floor, though
And there's a long way up

but away from the dreary, let's focus on cheery
As I carve pumpkins in the shape of silence
There's nothing in April for the stuff in October
So I fold over a game of poker
For another month or two
Pour me a drink, Scottie!
A fifth of ***, and a shot o' her
Wondering eyes cut ties to those morals we hold most dear
None of you are mine, and I have little right to peer over as I do
But oh, do I
Wondering eyes are best plucked out by Ravens
Like that's so Edgar Allen Poe
Half Black females can squander careers... or blame
it on the *****... or disney channel
Spring Break, *******

Frankly, I think you could do a lot better than me.
And as I write it,
There's a lot of pain there
But I feel like it's true

I don't want to cause anyone stress
I don't want to be a burden
And when it's me and sunny beaches,
I wouldn't blame you for choosing beaches
I'd encourage it

I'm sorry.

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 think the worst part of all of it
Was I wanted to be that brother.

I mean, grander scope,

The person I am is not who I want to be.

Not even in the changeable sense.
Sometimes I just wish I worked differently.

The saddest part is, by wishing, by longing for that
I'm longing for not me,
and I like me.

I am me.

I mean we could delve into this psychologically: the ideal self.
We could run me through with philosophy, and in reality, this piece is going far from the ideal.

I write stream of thought, can you tell?

None of this is ever planned. I literally ***** on paper [that's electronic], similar to that artist who vomits colored milk, except, you know, with words.
I can't quite turn it into music yet.
That'll come later on, I suppose.

I thank God for what I am.
It's just a struggle, because I want to be better than me;
While He's happy with me, sometimes I'm not.

I saw her face tonight,
and I want to be with the person I perceived
Not the person she is.
She's beautiful though, of that there's no doubt.
I hope she finds someone for her.
She deserves him, and he her.

But I want mine,
and maybe there isn't one,
and I want to be ok with that too.

Becoming what I'm not
And who I am isn't who I am
But might be a mixture of both being
and unbeing

Celestial lack of knowledge
Becoming learned by lack of sense
Watching birds on the porch
Pay the family recompense

Walking in a wheelchair
Aborted walk the earth alive
Amish on cellphones
There's something wrong, here.

Rhyme-scheme handled
But I can't get out...
For some reason
...Something scandled
I will pout...
...Show me treason
****, I almost got out.

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.

It's two in the morning,
And nothing glimmers with any sort of light.

The ceiling lamp is buzzing its way into oblivion, and my computer screen won't stop screaming my face off as words continue to recreate themselves all over this paperwork I like to call poetry.

There are clothes on the floor.
A lump that literally states "I'm a bachelor with no tastes";
All my clean clothes are unfolded.

I take time for ******* pageantry, as if video games, film, and other likewise media are my lasting friends.

"Look at me,
I know so much!"
He kindly curtseys to the judge
as he skips away so gayly.

An "Always Sunny" Marathon, at my place maybe?
He says like a Jewish Decapodian, scarfing down some bay leaf.
Just kidding, I'm way too poor for that.

I'm supposed to have my **** together;
I'm supposed to buy a house!
I scream, I rant, I rave, I shout!
Until another stupid ******* ***** me a good one,
Right on the mouth.

I mumble for weeks; I continue on.
Let us all sing, again, the soldier's song:

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!'

Oh God, what have you done?
Brought politics into a world that had none?
Forever tainted this bill of mine,
For it's possible that it 'twas not designed
for a working world,
for a human social structure,
for a being who's supposed to be good.

We get a mockery each time,
Spit dereliction, each line.

I sit in the abyss,
       Screaming.
            There’s an echo.
       Am I alone?
Maybe

Email please stop
You're endangering my sanity

BING YOU GOT MAIL

Oh, thank you...
I mean, no! I will not be phased!

BING YOU GOT MAIL

Oh, hellopoetry! I do love that site.

BING YOU GOT MAIL

Someone liked my poem?
How kind of them!

BING YOU GOT MAIL

Well, if I must, I can give a few
Seconds
Minutes
Hours

BING YOU GOT MAIL

Ok, you got me... that's enough

BING YOU GOT MAIL

Email, what the ****

BING YOU GOT MAIL

That's... I've seen that before

BING YOU GOT MAIL

Email, that's not even correct grammar
Well, it's poor grammar
In the very least

BING-BING-BING-BING YOU GOT MAIL

I can't stand this anymore.
It's time to pull the plug.
Hide beneath the rug
I'm coming for you,
You *****, rotten *****.

I give, I give, and I taketh away.
I’m left with nothing at the end of the day.

I’m left speechless, you’ll give speeches
But I’ll be far away.
The frustration lies within.
I hear your voice in my head
Screaming,
“******* live better.”
I’d be better off Red.
At least I’d live happy, margins well below.
But you wouldn’t let me,
You’d have nothing to show.

Leave your fears at the door,
Young child.
The winter wind sweeps close.
If you are not careful,
The frostbite will get your nose.

I’m empty; I’m flawless
I need more than this.
I can’t be me, and what you want at the same time.
I guess ignorance is bliss.

All at once,
And nothing.

There's nothing to write here,
Not this morning.

Slow key tappings beneath speech of a philosopher.

Do you know the meaning of the word love?
[Take notes]
Subtle key tappings.

While there's no ink on any paper,
No clicking of keys to satisfy
the hunger of a page
My mind holds the ink and the clacking
Typing up inaccuracies
Drawing conclusions

Writing a fearful poem
Drenched in black ink and woe.