when asked the question
"why?"
I reply
by shrugging my shoulders
why?
I don't know,
maybe I am depressed
or maybe I am just
sad,
maybe I need another cigarette,
maybe I need to pour myself
another drink
or maybe I need a half-naked
pretty young girl to **** whatever
has clawed it's way into my skin
out and into the sweaty,
dark room I sit in,
so it can evaporate,
rid itself from my being;
no matter how much
I smoke,
drink,
****,
the loneliness still carves it's
entire existence into my bones
like lover's names in trees,
it leaves blood stains
and leaves me longing
for so much
more

stumbling home
in the evening
with my breath
smelling of cheap beer
and cigarettes;
people worry,
I tell them not to;
I do this for me,
not for attention
or sympathy,
I do this to feel
more alive,
because I feel so
dead inside
and my thoughts
are racing;
drinking shuts them up
for a couple of hours
and I feel better;
I feel sick,
but I also feel
great,
like I can do anything;
like nothing can hurt me;
is this what death
tastes like?
god,
I hope so

Past and future come together
in a maelstrom of emotions.
Swirling delusions
illusions
collusions
render my thoughts
unintelligible.

My stomach knots,
knowing I need to face
you, and your torrid
condescension.

Cold sweat beads on my body,
I shiver in the exact opposite
of anticipation.

Too much going on...
I can't deal with stress...
work, family, health.

Life.

Great expectations guide me down a road
travelled by those who judge.
Actions of yesterdays haunt me,
hide me from facing light.

You're not helping.

I cried out for support as I met
new friends, co- workers,
challenges.

You laughed at my burden,
shared my unease with your friends.
They shared your laughter
while nobody dipped a toe
into the pool I was drowning in.

Past and future collide
forming the present.

I live in restlessness,
imagining the worst,
feeding off a dish of foreboding,
drinking from the cup of delusion.
This is my normal.
My reality.
My life

Woman are the most dangerous people on the planet. And yes, I said people. Not some flimsy model you see in a magazine not some girl playing with dolls I mean Woman. A person. A living creature set upon this Earth to manage somehow the messes that men make up. A person whose entire being is creating and giving life, who without we would almost virtually go extinct.

   See the thing Men don't realize is that whilst in the figurative kitchen, the woman is (I'd hope) planning on some way to **** him. Because there's a fine line between asking somebody to get you something in the case that you're lazy, and degrading who they are to the point that you think their sole purpose is breathing for your ****** needs.

   As much as I hate to admit it and that it disgusts me in a way, I came from my mother. If you think about it we were all pushed about of a birth canal, put forth in the light. Screaming because holy **** it's cold where am I what am I who are you? A woman whom you'll end up calling mom has put you into the world and she could have taken you out before you were fully formed. Babies are clay ready to be molded only we aren't supposed to be the molders, we just help shape it.

   See the reason that I want to be a woman is that I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, I feel guilty being a man. I am guilty for what man has done what man continues to do. Sexism goes both ways but you cannot tell me it doesn't lean towards her than it does him. If I were a woman I would be powerful. I would be ****. Even if I wasn't **** at all I would rock that skirt harder than I do my skinny jeans. I would laugh with my girlfriends I would wear makeup and not wear makeup and be what guys like to call a ***** cause I don't want to blow them. Blow yourself *******.

   What I cannot change is the fact that I am a guy. I say guy things and do "guy" things. I smoke **** with my guy friends and sometimes let out a remark I hate myself later for saying. I think more about ******* than I do about what's happening in our government, but don't let that make you think that I won't stand against my male friends for woman. That I'll let them give me **** for wanting to wear a skirt or a woman's shirt. That they can get off with calling my friend a **** cause she sleeps with the same amount of men that my guy friend does woman. I know I'm not the best example of feminism in men but at least I'm trying to be something different than the same old sexist thread.

I look at my little sister. She's beautiful and tragic,  like a metaphor. Or a cigarette or an odd cat. I look at her and see the same emptiness inside of me, only there's more hope for her. How do you tell somebody that you care for them? I don't think I've ever really cared for many people in a sibling kind of way. That requires an emotional connection that maybe I just lack. Like a wire in my head that was cut early on or misplaced in my head.

   Dear sister, I write you a poem. A letter. A song. I'm losing my mind, I'm going insane. Knowing that all I care about could just disappear within an instant. I don't want to lose my friends don't want to lose my sister. I was never close to my brothers it isn't fair if I lost you too. What is it you think of? What do you think about? I see you playing the piano and wish I could do that too. I'd ask you to teach me but I'm too shy to do that. I don't know if anyone's said it, but I'm proud of you. I see you trying your best and it's okay to do that. Take baby steps at a time cause the world is cruel but it seems to like babies to maybe you can trick it. I know, I've tried. Am trying. Trying harder?
   I don't know what it is I really want to tell you. You should know though I love you. I have a hard time telling people that. Have a hard time expressing feelings without suddenly wanting to cry or rip my arm to pieces. You'll be okay sister dear, I know you will.

There’s a theory about alternate universes, or if you want we can call it the multiverse. It’s where for every single idea ever thought of, there’s an alternate universe where it’s actually happened. For example, when George Lucas thought up star wars, somehow in another time, place or galaxy far far away, a star breathed in light. It breathed it in and out and created a universe where eventually, like ours, it gave life to atoms. And these atoms created people or monkeys or god or something which eventually : Became the star wars universe. I’m not a scientist but I think that’s pretty sweet. It’s this theory that kind of punches hope into my chest because what other way will I be able to take hope without a fight except to punch it directly into my chest. I guess though in a way also though, ****** also thought up of killing off all the jews and probably becoming world leader but let’s hope that didn’t happen.

It’s a simple idea like that though, that I have a little more reason for living. I’ve seen dark days and darker times created inside my own little piece of mind like p-i-e-c-e and not peace like a peace sign. Cause my mind is a battle field filled with corpses and death and totally dead people all around and to be honest it gets me really bummin. So instead of filling my mind with the dead I fill it with scenarios where I’m spider-man. I swing my web high till I run out of buildings, I let my body sky dive down into the ***** pits of New York where I help clean up the trash and gag cause I really hate taking out the trash like literally it’s really gross. But I help nonetheless.

When I was little I’d have dreams that didn’t end up happening until like eight years later and I realized I could see into the future. All the things I’d see were insignificant though so it’s not like they really mattered but one thing I keep a look out for are spiders. I had a dream I was spider-man, I swung a web accidentally and if I hadn’t woken up panicked I would’ve hit pavement harder than the realization that maybe God didn’t exist when I was eight or that...dad wasn’t coming back. All of this is off track so what I’m trying to make my point about to close a poem with is this: There’s a theory that what you think up in one universe, it can happen in another. So what I hope for is maybe there’s some kid in another universe, just like me. He looks up at the sky or in his room or a ceiling light when he’s really high and thinks: Hey, maybe I have spider powers in another universe. Cause the day I become spider-man, maybe I won’t be such a loser anymore.

I think about a lot when I get high. For example, I think about how pretty I think you are or how maybe I should smoke a little more cause I'm not as high as I was five minutes ago, but let's play this out just to be safe. I think about what it means to be alive and how, as bad as it sounds, can only appreciate myself in a positive way is after I smoked enough to incapacitate an elephant.

   I think about what it's like when we make love or how my nails are really short, almost bled to the stub cause I can't deal with my every day problems twenty-four-seven. I think about how I wish humans had super powers, that I could fly into the air like a falcon or pick up a car and throw it. I take a hit and then another, think about how gross **** tastes and smells but I love the after effects.

   I think about how I should get more sleep or how school makes me want to **** myself. I think about what it'd be like if dad didn't leave or if I suddenly grew wings...do you uh, think that's cool? I think about how we're all grains of sand and at any moment we could die. The Earth could catch on fire and we'd burn to embers, smoke rising.

(to be continued I'm too tired and high to finish this).

There is a line I cross across myself and beside myself I lay broken
With every sigh there is goodbye and I reside by words I've never spoken
I need help
Staying strong has never felt so wrong. Staying strong has never felt so wrong.
           Staying strong has never felt so wrong.
Staying strong has never felt so ******* wrong.
                                                                ­Staying strong has never felt so

**** me.
******* **** me.
Give me your lips and thrill me.
Perk up your shoulders as I lay there and smolder
thrill me.

Whoops, there I said it and if I feel it then I must really mean it
and if I mean it, then I must really want it
and if I want it then I'll eat fire.
And duh-duh-duh he's going to eat fire, ladies and gentleman.
Boys and girls,
there are seven wonders of the world
and you'll never see them, let alone be them.

You ******* *******
I trusted you
I was just a child

"I'm scared."

You touched me in ways that you thought would bring satisfaction
but all you created was destruction

"You do it or you go to hell. It's in the bible."

Just because you corrupted my body
doesn't mean that you corrupted my being.
And you will never know who I am
just because of my body.
I have heaven inside of me
and oceans so deep in my heart
that I can drown others with my love.

I am not what the TV says I am
I am not what a textbook says I am
I am not my grades
I am not the flames that have burnt me

I am love
I am hope
I am the fingers brushing her face
I am courage
I am ambition
I am fighting to fix everything
while you lay dead and broken under dirt that is above you.
Above you.
Above you.
Above you. Above you. Above you. Above you. Above you.

This is the one time I will not be weak.

If I can overcome this then I can overcome anything at all
and if I can't
then forever I'll fall.