And I would write poetry for you
So beautiful it would stand on its own two feet
And kiss your eyes with black ink
And rivers of hope would flow down your cheeks

I wrote poetry for you
Journels and lifetimes full

If you ever want to know how many words
Try and count the stars.

“i was born to make biscuits”
and so we let him.
flour, butter, one egg, messiest
table in the hole entire county.
mom watches bug and the boys
roll in the leaves outside, and
greg and i drink coffee by the fire
in thick socks and knitted throws.
a burst of the season arrives with
each sibling but we smile anyway,
kisses and cold hands pressed on
our warm cheeks until we're all
the same temperature. pop's biscuits
are done, so we sit and don't say
grace- just thank each other for
the things we have which no one
else could have given us. mom's
already missing the birds, and
wendy says she thinks she found
one of katy's old hats in the back
of her garage last month and she
even brought it with her this time.
we talk and we laugh and the little
boys nap and we just are.
we just are.

Were you ever real at all?

I remember laying in the grass
Adolescents way to drunk and high
We were out with friends
They were sitting under a bridge nearby
Looking up into the night sky
I turned around and kissed her
She kissed me back and turned around
3 minutes of silence passed and
She said "ive never wanted to kiss someone so much but without wanting ***, ive never wanted to talk to someone but without the words, ive never wanted to be around somebody just to be around him, do you think that's love?"
I looked at her and said if it is love i love you more than anything
My heart was beating so fast
She said "i love you too more than anything"
Ive never felt better
So much brighter on the inside than with any drug ive felt before
And i knew from the moment she kissed me my depression was gone
This was the most beautiful moment of my life
Sitting there with my first real love
With the people i love
In the darkness i love
Under the bridge i learned to love
Smoking the **** i love
Drinking the alcohol i love to hate
But eventually friends turned on me
The bridge got demolished
And she left
All that was left was the darkness of that night, the **** and, the alcohol
I wrote over 300 poems that year
Writing stuff of my young sorry soul
The poems helped me mentally
And the drugs helped me write them
Thats how i became an addict
Now people look at me and tell me im an addict
But im only addicted to her love, these friends, this place, this night
And that's what people dont understand
Im addicted to leaving this world
Leaving this pain behind just a few hours
There's a story behind every addiction
If you speak to an addict in your life
Speak honestly and dont judge them
You'll learn something
You'll learn that this world is a sad little place
And every sad little addict has a sad little heart
Dont judge people you dont feel what they feel

I've got my warrior ******* on
Wolverine lent me these acrylics

Lasso your credit card with my weave
Tuck your tunnel vision in my G-string

This is my ******* song
Got my bad girl heels on

You can't get me off your mind
So how you gonna get me off

Come over to the throne room
I've got an after for you baby

What other religion costs $25 per song

Give me your devotion
I want Matronage
Ritual

When I was 19 I turned days into kalediscopes
Water into water
Paper covers rock
And coke cures a bad trip

Trip over my perfume

You won't spend money on me High on life
So let's get you depressed

Tell me your story sad boy
I've got rent to pay.

The pharmacist at CVS says I am not prescribed an inhaler anymore.
so in it's place.
I prescribe myself cigarettes

I need something to inhale
cigarettes seem a logical alternative to inhalers

deliberatly I decide to not drive
to the cigar store.
i walk to the cigar store.

it is far enough to be inconvenient
which means maybe
If I am not destined to buy this cigarette
I will receive an overwhelming sensation to turn back

I always add time for potential divine intervention to my agenda.
It happens often enough to be logical

we may have different definitions of logical

the cashier asks my age
And I tell him 21.
I am 22.
somehow In the confusion of waiting for god to prescribe me an overwhelming emotional reaction to not buy cigarettes
Instead of an inhaler.
I forget a whole ******* year of my life.

this is great context for
How I trust myself when making decisions.
which is to say
I don't trust myself to make descisions.

I buy the cigarettes.

upon searching for the optimal location
to loiter and slowly **** myself.
I stumble upon the old teen center.
the first place I was a mentor.

Out the side of the building
There's this rock
Long enough to sit five or so children
two laying down.
it's Perferated like a candy bar
each rectangle curved slightly
custom fit to years of munchkin ****

this slump right here
this slump is my munchkin ****.

each break of chocolate
on the candy bar rock
has a ladyslipper growing behind it.
tips of the five purple flowers
stretch to align perfect with the tips of our childhood belly buttons

humbled, I brush the leaves
excavate delicately
this heirloom.
I had forgotten.

The sky is recovering When I lay myself on the rock.
light grey clouds that want to cry
an optimistic sun that won't let them

I Cover my face with an old journal
made of old book smell.
I smile into the pages.
my lips barely touching the silk threading of her binding.
I've never breathed so intimately
a new lover.
the tip of my nose tucked into her spine.
honeymoon phase, Intoxicating.
Still excited to be in love.

there's breath here
wisdom in the records of
loving young,
cherrishing this new book smell.
Filling your chest with it.

When memories are tangible
There are no more expiration dates

Fill my lungs with
the crisp of unturned pages,
worn leather covers
Soft silk crosstitches

Kiss air into me
from the space between your lines.
I know how intimate an untold story can be.

Today I started breathing
I fell in love With a metaphor.

I never did smoke that cigarette.