You are not Charles Bukowski.
You are not Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
And neither am I.
And I never will be.
I will never sit in a ****** apartment
Eating a candy bar and drinking
But it would be great if I could

But maybe in trying not to be them
I become like them.
After all, I’ve had drug habits
And I’ve had a couple drinks before
Noon. A couple days in a row.
For a couple years.
I’ve had affairs in bathrooms and beds
And cars and club booths.
And I hate writing on computers.

Dear god, have I shrunk this low?
The writing’s good and it gets published
But I don’t sleep and I don’t eat.
I drink too much
I feel weak
Jesus ****, what have I become?

They like my harsh language.
When I say **** and *******
things like that really
start their engines.
really gets them going

They hold their breath ‘til
they’re sick over well
spit over sweat
heaven over hell
Grasp a magnifying glass to light my
scarlet fever. Blazing out of
my head.  Flames with rhythm lick
the posts of my bed
as she crawls in with melodic, haunting
memories
creeping out of her head.

Please don’t hold yourself back,
Love

I'm on a walk with nothing in my hand
Moon out, sunglasses on
Let's be honest,
I'm probably drunk.
And my favorite thing to do
Intoxicated, Inebriated, Alleviated
is watch a film

WELL...


I've been drinking.
The water on my eyelashes
Falls through the weaving
of the cheap, broken lawnchair
holding me up.
Pressed hard against my
Department Store Jeans.
The brand name my mom likes

I watch movies about Bob Dylan
soaking wet
My hair looks unwashed
I've been wearing the same *******
watch for three years to the day
But I'm not bored of it
I've lived in the same ******* town
for 18 years
and I've never thought more of it

I feel the grass
growing up, itching my
Ankles, Calves, Knees
it goes up and under my skin
pulling punches
as it pleases.
But doesn't everyone?
The thin layer inside of my
Elbow, Arm, Limb
goes numb
gives in.
But doesn't everyone?

my Whiskey Sour doesn't
Thank god for that.
the Bowl before bed doesn't
Thank **** for that
Otherwise I'd probably feel
close to nothing
Which probably wouldn't feel
so bad

When I go to hell
I’m going in pearl-snapped plaid
I’m going in peace. I’m going through madness
No sadness
God moves from me through you
And that’s fine

Time came, I stopped eye contact
When I saw, compared to yours
What theirs lacked

Millions of stars in the sky
Mirror numbers and kinds of thoughts
Behind my eyes
Thousands of eyes in a crowd
Mimic throes of lies used as gimmicks
In selling ourselves to reach the limits
Of life and strife
Of day and night
Reaching through the darkness to find the light

So I continue to talk and I never stop
Through words of wisdom and hotels signs
And the biding of time to keep it from flight
Where does it go?
Could I chase it out the window?
Would it come to me if I called?
Probably not

I’m a smiling gun.
Trick you then treat you
To a taste of pain.
I taste of hate
Anger in my bones when you bite
Skin of plague and teeth of plight
How could you ever survive?

But I survive when she comes
I flourish in the black-spotted sun
I no longer want night unless it’s with her
And my only reason for day is to
See her face.

I wish for blindness, if only for a moment
A better sensation of touch
With lush uncertainty
Tracing every outline
The boundaries, where skin meets air,
my fingertips won’t cross.

In the morning I take her home
Go back to my apartment
I’m greeted by my roommates
And I shower.
Thinking about these nights
I have to brace myself with the tile

I get out, dress, and walk to class
She meets me in the hallway.
I lose my breath and almost my nerve as always
Talking to her is easier, but still
Hard at the same time.
I don’t want to mess up.
But Christ, there she is.

I can see again.