"You drink too much.
You smoke too much.
Why do you stay?"

I laugh as
I roll another cigarette.
I slip the paper filter in between
my lips, and
smile.

"I guess I have a death wish."

I light her up,
and puff away.
We'll be up long into the morning.

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

I took a few pills
in the hope that they would take away my pain
They did for a little bit
they made me so high that I couldn't feel anything
When I awoke the next morning
the pain hit me like a car
So I took a couple more pills
but I didn't get very far
Once the effects of the pills wore off
and there was no more high
The pain got incredibly worse
to the point it made me cry
I took some more of those **** pills
too upset to pay attention to the dose
I never woke up the next morning
I was stuck in a coma
The doctors pronounced me dead
without the breathing machine I wouldn't survive
Yet something inside me said otherwise
causing me to stay alive
I woke up after two days
of living in a comatose dream
The pain came crashing down on me hard
but it felt good to feel something
Once I was able to breathe on my own
the doctors explained to me what had happened
They told me that I had overdosed
as my family stood in the background crying
They asked me question after question
wanting to know why I took the pills
I told them that I didn't know
even though I knew the truth
Life threw me a few curve *****
I wasn't quite ready to catch
I thought the pills would help me
instead the brought me closer to death
The doctors sent me to rehab
a place I had hoped to avoid
I had a chance to change my life
or endure another unplanned suicide
I wasn't sure where to go with myself
I just wanted my **** pills
The pills didn't benefit me
they just made me more emotionally ill
The pain I faced hurt like hell
that is when I missed pills the most
The more I confronted my pain
the more I began to feel like myself
I learned that pills didn't help me at all
they just fed the things that were hurting me the most
My waking up in the hospital wasn't a miracle
it was God's way of giving me the chance to save myself
One year later I found those pills sitting in dust on my shelf
they reminded me of my near death experience
and how much they put me through hell
I flushed those **** pills down the toilet
for a minute I stood still
I never in my life would have thought
that my life would be forever changed by a pill.





This poem is dedicated to the following people:

To the friends I lost due to their addictions with pills and other drugs. I miss you terribly and I wish you were here with me today. I think about you all of the time and my heart stills aches for you all.

To the friends who have overdosed on pills and survived. I am really happy you are here and I am so proud of you for getting the help you need to live your lives to the fullest.

To the friends who are still addicted to pills and other drugs. I really wish you would get help because I miss you, I think you have so much to offer this world and it hurts to know you are wasting your lives hurting yourselves. I love you very much and I always will.

dear you, dear eyes
in your lovely sockets,
your presence is poetry,
an experience i cannot sculpt
into words precisely,perfectly,patiently:
pauses and punctuations, the words
i want to kiss into your mouth
and then tease with my tongue.

i seek solace/solar/suns,you dress my fingers with a
gentle grip and your scooping motions-
oh the waxing crescent moon;i see-
now i see clearly that the moon
is dark and round akin to your pupils.
once an abyss,no w a world beyondddddddd!
what blithesome business

i once thought the moon had a
face of a man and I still do but the moon
found its way to a face of a man I know.

stark silence, silly matters, subtly, just subtly
i find myself looking up/wards,wards,wards
and enjoying earnest pleasures in p
ain/eeling/inching/ulling, an unearthly joy found
between my bleeding fingers and my nails
(or lack thereof)

maybe the moon is alive,has skin,breathes and
sometimes talks/i know, i know it, i’ve felt it.
I KNOW IT as i,i, i

passively watched the blood moon;I’m
certain and I bet all my cuticles on this
that i know pretty pretty eyes when i see them
in a drunken fear fun fantasy falling falling

and i form your fluttering fleeting
shadow w w w wwwwwww           .

//

yoi were(as) meant to go when the sun comes up