i smell like ***
a lingering aftertaste of pleasure
your cologne and your love
mixed on my skin
panting breaths ghosting over my stomach
hands tangled in short hair
i smell like gentle touches
guiding my hips in a furious dance
unbridled pleasure sparking through my veins
fueling my desperate desire
hit ******-- hit the top of the atmosphere
euphoric fireworks create a messy picture
intimacy is the best way of expressing affection
i smell like ***
i smell like you

frantic shaking,
reaching for one more
death stick, held tight in pale fingers
frantic and muttering
sallow cheeks and sunken eyes
flick, swish, light
inhale, exhale
the shaking slows
calm spreads, tendrils seeping through a husk of a body
smoke unfurls through the air

im addicted.

maybe there is hope
for the mindless
for the masses
for the apathetic losers
quietly making their way through
passing by with not a dent to the world
normal and expendable
casual onlookers to the big parade of extraordinary
they do not make
they buy
they consume
they digest
and they do not question
however,
if one idea managed to spark
to catch hold of a mind
and spread it
furiously ignite the dynamite
the world will explode
for if all of its normals
its casuals and its expendables
suddenly rose up and took charge
as a whole, yes
but finally thinking
finally breathing freedom
the world will become theirs.

so,
this is the end?
have i finally snapped the tightrope string
swung a chainsaw to my consciousness
has my brain reached the end of its tether?

will my heart stop beating
or will my mind become dead
the latter would hurt more than the former
living like a mindless zombie
is worse than dying fresh and alive
i feel my grip on reality
loosening gradually

i am drowning in responsibilities
i didnt sign up to take
i am reeling in impossibilities
that are my own mistake
i feel myself escaping
quietly erasing
what used to be me
and replacing
with thoughts not my own
thoughts made for me
and a predetermined future
with no hope residing inside

my poems have been
put on pause
suspended in the air of unfinished writing
stuck until i return,
rustier than before
yet hopefully
with a brand new story in hand

the internet allows for a shred of anonymity
buttons can be pressed to easily
enter and exit a person's life
no commitment, unless you make connections
if you grow attached
the internet allows for an entire fake identity
this is what i like, this is what im like,
this is who i wish i could be
this is me but better

do you want to know the truth?
do you want to listen to my whining
constant complaining about minor trivialities
do you want to learn about my thoughts
my selfishness and my secrets
do you really want to dive deep into the
excruciatingly painful rabbit hole with me?

welcome to my home--
misery loves company
now that you're here, feel free to look around
the wretched possessions; the broken furniture
the shattered portrait on the wall
spiderweb-thin cracks in the glass
reflecting a distorted version of a once-happy family
be careful of the broken beer bottles
shards glitter against the floor
dust floats through the air, revealed by the bare amount of sunshine
slivers of warmth filtered through the smallest of cracks

it's dark here
shadows lurk in the darkness, terrifying and menacing
their anonymity and grotesque features off-putting
oh look, you found my emotion box!
there they are, the faded gray things
they are worth nothing
but yet i still hide my apathy
this is the theater corner
i practice my smiles in the vintage mirror
manufacture fake emotions from full-face rubber masks
easily interchangeable and draining to maintain

here are my problems, listed plain as day and stuck up on a corkboard
no use hiding them
some of the paper is crumbling, insignificant problems that don't mean a thing
take note when you find a worn pink paper
edges crinkled and growing yellow with time
enticing childlike handwriting speckled with tear marks and blood
im fond of it
it represents vulnerability and emotions
it represents the end of me

that concludes the tour
will you stay and help clean,
or will you flee in terror?
i wouldn't blame you for doing either
make your decision wisely.