It’s all right, zombie husband.
I didn’t like the dog.
Or the twins.
Seriously, all they did was cry.
It’s like, “shut up, already”,
You know?

I'm done with sin, I've payed my price.
My thoughts are clear, yet no longer suffice.
I've stolen your words, not once did I think twice.
If you could only get them back, boy wouldn't that be nice?
Sorry son, now drugs are your only vice.
Maybe next time you'll learn, for now roll the dice.
I may have mislead you, my information was not concise.
Few times before, have you taken my advice.
In anticipation, you've payed the lower price.
Never have you learned, my heart not but an mechanical device.

I thought
Everything was wonderful.
Infallible.
I lived my life with a blindfold
I didn’t
Know where to go without it.

I thought all would be well.
I thought someone would
Come rescue me
From this
Hell of a life.

I thought
Maybe
I loved you.

But feelings change
True colours fade
And black and white
All turns to gray
And I though
Different than I knew.

Where do we find solace?
Where do we
Find reading nooks
Filled with books
That we love
More than friends?

I know
That everything was messed up.
I’m aware
Of all my faults and fears
Irrational and fears inevitably,
Controlling life,
And all those
Feelings.

I know
That my world was shattered,
When you cut the chord.
And like glass,
Shards pierced my heart
And I am
Bleeding from the soul.

I know
That I did not
Love you.

Were do we find solace?
Where do we find
Puddles deep
Enough to splash
Sorrow away?

some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have
my
paintings too, my best ones; its stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems:
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise;
there'll always be mony and ****** and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.

if forever was the word you used,
where are we now?

if forever was how much you loved me,
where are you now?

with that girl,
embracing her love,
that is until you find the real her...
the one who doesnt love YOU,
the one who will drop you off at the nearest exit,

forever didnt turn out so long.

Call a                          doctor/ plumber/ priest
My heart is               broken/ leaking/ deceased
My life is                   worthless/ so much better/ over
I'm going to              **** myself/ tell your wife/ Dover
How could you         leave me/ not know/ lie?
I hope you                return my stuff/ come back/ die
I'll never                   forget you/ forgive you/ go away
I need                        closure/ a DNA test/ to tell you I'm gay
Your                           face/ crotch/ top of your back
Is                                so beautiful/ lumpy/ unusually slack
Your                           ex/ mother/ best friend from school
Always made me      great coffee/ feel inadequate/ drool
I will                           miss you/ **** you/ stalk you forever
That way we can      be friends/ get away with it/ be together
I'm sorry                   you did this/ I did this /we failed
I promise to               pay you/ dye it back/ get you bailed
Please don't               leave me/ show the Polaroids/ write or call

(*delete as appropriate, just delete it all.....)