The petals of the rose you gave have all fallen off.
I didn't like to throw them away.
I spread them on the desk,
As if on purpose,
To dry them into something new.
The beauty of their life fades away.
The beauty of their death grows stronger.

My hand is cold without yours.

I'll make it real
         someday

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.

Being tied down
wasn't so bad
at least I knew who
I'd sleep next to.