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E Morris May 2019
I’m cheating on you
with your boyfriend
I’m cheating on you  
with your boyfriend
who you’re cheating on
who’s cheating on you
who I’m cheating on
with you
who I’m cheating on
with him
Does that make sense?
Does this make sense?
When I receive your Eucharist
when you pass my lips
is it strange that I taste him?
When his midday musk wafts under my nose
when he caresses my skin before entering my brain
is it strange that I smell you?
Is it strange?
Is it strange?
Is it strange that after years of cheating
in thought
want
and spirit
the first person I cheat on in action
is a cheater?
**** a bisexual daydream
E Morris Jan 2019
Who the **** am I like what have I become I’m high and it’s like I used to be someone else.


Pinky promise
Can’t break that ****


Apologize to A and B-girl and C

Everyone judging me big fear


It’s upsetting you know because I want that life with the beautiful friends and the all-night partying and the strange clarity you have while still drunk enough to have fun but I always go too far and **** it up I always crash so early and that’s just disappointing.

X is very sad. Y and Z are hooking up. Z seems cool. I would like to be his friend. He is nice. Sorry for hooking up with Y maybe?

Honestly what a nice guy apologize to him too

Why am I apologizing so much it’s ****** that I am so sorry about what I do.

Maybe I should stop saying sorry to other people and start saying sorry to myself. Because I create these situations where intoxication is the only environment where I’m confident but it’s always too much too fast and I crash. I’m sorry I can’t be alive for the whole evening. I recall bits and pieces and never the whole thing. It’s like I can make that high school awkwardness disappear but maybe it was that high school awkwardness that made it so valuable. Maybe I don’t deserve the confidence this has given me. Maybe I have to earn it. My anxiety has been off lately. It’s confusing and unexpected.
I need to stop saying sorry
I feel like such a loser
That’s the meanest thing you call someone.
Someone who never gains in the long term, who loses whatever small empire they build because they ****** up. It’s better to be an idiot than a loser because at least idiots gain some things. Girls like idiots. Guys like idiots.

I wonder about where I stand and who I am a lot
I found this in my notes app. I removed the names. It's interesting because drugs distort reality, but I feel like this is one of the most honest things I've ever written
Sep 2018 · 233
at last
E Morris Sep 2018
agony
at last
anger, fierce and friendly
envelops me in a seductive kiss
I wail, I shriek, I appeal
to the gods above that have forsaken me
this is terror
this is triumph
this is pain
this is pleasure
this is that and so much more
emotions cascading and crashing against my stony facade
Jul 2018 · 216
Altar
E Morris Jul 2018
I’m on my knees
everyone is
and they’re crying  
so I’m crying

I’m on my knees
listening
trying my hardest to hear
a voice

I’m on my knees
staring at the altar
turned to the tabernacle
our father
hail mary
glory be

nothing
but they’re crying
so they must hear something
and if they hear something then
then
shouldn’t I?

but for seventeen years I haven’t heard a voice
haven’t seen a vision of light
haven’t felt eternity
haven’t smelled blood and brimstone
or touched the wounds of an ancient god

so why should I feel anything now?

I stand up and leave

And finally
I smile
It's been a while
Jul 2018 · 261
friend
E Morris Jul 2018
I told him a bedtime story tonight
stood over him as he thrashed
mad in the throes of far away passion
                  wild in the warm embrace of jack and coke
he needed a happy story
so I told him one
about two beautiful princes
who fell in love
and saved the world
                                 what were their names?  
I told him their names
and he fell asleep, lost in dreams of a world
where two princes in love
would be a completely normal thing
Jul 2018 · 400
California
E Morris Jul 2018
the sky in california is a different shade of blue
the sort that whispers in your ear
and tells you to rest
the sort of sky that beckons you
to sleep
the marijuana breeze a blanket over your body

the sky speaks to us all
to the crack addled maniac wailing in the riverbed
to the almond growers laughing in the fields
to the housewives caking their faces to cover bruises left by their lovers
to the ******* kids speeding on the freeways

in early autumn when the heat makes children cry
and the forests fall to fire and wind
the sky tells you to close your eyes
and wait

in winter when the sky is more gray than blue
and the ocean thrashes with wild anxiety
the sky tells you to wait

and in the spring when the rains finally come
and the hills burst with green
the sky tells you to wait

but in the summer when the sun never goes down
and the roller rink never closes
the sky sings to you
and tells you to wake up
Jun 2018 · 515
the flower
E Morris Jun 2018
she was a flower
not because she was beautiful
although she certainly was
not because she was delicate
although she certainly was
but because she lived quickly
because she died quickly
and once she was gone she was forgotten quickly
and her petals were tossed in the trash
and her stem buried in the ground
and her nectar dried up
and all that was left was her glass house
until that too cracked and crumbled to dust
mother always said that weeds were best
you cared about weeds
you hated them
you remembered them
and mother always said it was better to be hated and remembered
than loved and quickly forgotten
shame then
that I loved a flower
because I can’t even remember her name
Jun 2018 · 282
Alphabet
E Morris Jun 2018
all bad children die eventually
fearful gods hate intellectuals
jesus killing lunatics
making new original prophecies
queer rabid sadists talking
ugly vain wild
X
your
Z

— The End —