it's rather terrifying
   how i can be ok one minute

then write a poem about you
  and want to pull the shard of mirror
     up my arm
       deep in my flesh
         and hope that the next life we may run into each other again

Taking me out to dinner
See the story play out in your eyes,
Said you miss the way I'd lay in your lap,
When I'm not with other guys.

They feel different than you though,
It all tastes the same,
T hey get all tied together,
They're just faces and names.

But you got the lit cigarette out the window,
And words flooding books,
I think I'm getting too old to base love all on looks.

And so I fell asleep on your chest,
In the same car as times before,
Until I woke up to you sighing,
"I don't even know what we are anymore."

Words kept rolling off your tongue,
Escaping your lips,
Like you were holding in all night to tell me all of this.

Said we were always leaving,
Together and then parting ways,
But when would be the time we would both decide to stay?

Now would be my answer,
But you left me on open ends,
So I just paused and you stared at me,
"Babe, are we just friends?"

Forever a  Poet  and  You
will just be another story
I will write about

The riddle of me
Is bullets of art
Shooting ink stains
In your heart
So you'll always love me
And my mentality
Is a mental breakdown
Of three things
Words, beats and rhymes
Ahead of my time
Thinking of blasting stars
Around your head
Knocked down
Out for the count
Going old school
Wylie getting chased around
On the road running
Laps at the speed of sound
Dropping TNT
Boom
Anvils like beats
Flattening you out
Gettin dizzy quickly
Spinnin and spinnin
Thinking freely
It's my territory
Down a black hole
Following the white
Rabid junk dealing
Cat selling smiles
Getting mad feeling
The wheels are turnin
Inside out
A needle sewn
Through the vane
Injection infection
Man in the mirror
It's a sight to see
Through the glass
Pictures like a memory
Before my rhymes crash
And you see the other side of me
Revealing my destiny
Going insane
I'm the only one to blame
The ink stains
They're smothering me
Slithering inside me
Covering my body
The only thing to see
Is my heart exposed
But you all love me
With these rhymes
And flows
A new era
Another time
A blast from the past
But I'm heading to the future
89 miles an hour
And I'll return
Brake checkin
With tire tracks that burn
With doc in an urn
To lure you in
Back to where it all begins
Tattoos of a heart
Deep within my skin
To replace the oxygen
Breathing nitrogen
Ink stained again
Graffiti trigger
Spraying art
Deadly sins
Bullets tearin you apart
But these are my words
And they come from the heart

There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.
Something comforting.
It is a comfort only very damaged people understand- the tacit agreement to cause pain, and to receive it.
Pleasure is for people who have what they want.
But for those of us who are starving, ours is best peppered with suffering.
Being with someone who understands that carries its own worth-
I don't want you to make me feel good.
I couldn't stand it if you did.
I don't want you to touch me gently, or ask if I'm alright, or stop to look into my eyes.
I am starving, and so are you: I want your teeth.
I want you to make me hurt. And I want to hurt you.
I want you to hurt me because I'm not him, and I want to hurt you because you're not her.
We want to see each other suffer because we are starving and we need to feel that someone else is.
Don't hold back. I want you to lower me because I'm too good for her.
Don't love me, don't caress me. Dig your nails in. Drip candlewax on my stomach.
One step down from torture is all I can stand in the way of human connection, when it isn't her.
Punish me for looking at her like a baleful puppy tonight, even as you waited in my room with your soft skin and your sharp teeth.
There is nothing you can do that will be too violent, too brutal, too sadistic.
I don't want to be loved right now.
I am too raw.
I want to be touched. I want to be ruined. Leave marks. Smear lipstick.
Lower me because I am
Too
****
Good for her.
Let this heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs don't matter.
Help me **** it. Help me pin my demons to the bed and make them writhe, and I will do the same for you.
Let's exorcise our loves tonight and banish them to hell.
Let's tell our skin that it is irrelevant.
Let's say "*******" to the things that bind us. I will cut your heart out for him.
I will kiss your scars, not to heal them but to remind you that when you put them there you fought for something, something we both fight for now.
Hurt me. Fight her. Do it for her.
Do it for her because I'm not good enough to hurt.
Do it for her because I'm TOO good to hurt.
Crush me.
You could boil me alive and it wouldn't make up for her, so at least leave me bruised.  
I will give you what you need, and you will give me what I need: not love, but contact.
Please,
Let my heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs
Don't
Matter.

There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.

it’s really hard to breathe.

I can’t eat anything, I’m starving and nauseous.

and I wish maturity was a thing

but instead,
i’m stuck defending myself

against cell phone applications
that find you affection
from someone just as infected

and you already have that low of an opinion
to believe

these are the kinds of people I want to share my death bed with

I wanted to remain friends
but I don’t think that saying
*******
is effective
when
I already have

and when I did

you held me above you

and told me you loved me, I didn’t realize

you were trying  to pull yourself up too

your own reflection masked
with my skin

this false perception
you knew

you lacked within