When temptation follows us all,
From the farthest pew,
He calls the poem,
"Untitled."

One day you will bleed

The silence rings
like church bells
at three in the morning,
counting off
your debts
to you, me,
and everyone you've never spoken to.

"How to cut yourself when you're a modest man in a relationship:
Drink, write, never read, and burn."

Breathe out. Breathe in.
Ideas high-strung,
out of your grasp,
in crossbars above.
Find a topic—
Angst, grief, fantasy, love.
Reach. Stretch.
Contort your body into long and thin.
Breathe out. Breathe in.

Live to standards man has set.
Emotions. Thoughts. Blood. Sweat.
Fealings on paper, sealed in ink.
But no words to connect and link.

Dig deep into the corners of your mind.
Find the place where it's just instinct.
No hearing.
No sight.
Become deaf.
Become blind.
No mental thought.

And write. Just write, about the expression you sought.

Hurry up, dearest poet.
The deadline? Tonight.
Pick up your poetry and write. Just write.

I drunkenly wingman my dreams to my realities.

He asked me when
I started writing so I
turned to him and
frowned. "Have you
forgotten my
birthday already?"

Can you tell?
  Can you guess?
That there's a beating, in my chest,

But my heart is not here.

There's blood, tissue, bones,
  But the emotions are clear.

My mind does not live with me,
  nor my heart.
We are apart.

Where are you.

A beating heart, outside the cavity of my chest.

Where is it.
Can you tell,
  Can you guess?

Proximity gets tighter and tighter. I walk by twice so your eyes can catch me. They do, but they don't match mine. "I wonder what he's thinking of—"
"Probably nothing."
Probably something, but nothing of me.
I go home and listen to a sad song that I'll probably end up showing you.

Fading,                                       I
remember    the     days    when
you  lingered   in  my  mouth—
like    the     small    yellow    pill
I    placed    under   my   tongue
to dissolve into my bloodstream.

my heart bursts
with the beat
of all my blood
pumping at once.
not bound.
not bound.
but bouncing back to
basics.

your lips were the softest thing about you
swapping stories, passing lines—
i would rather talk to you than close my eyes.
we waited for the sun to come up
sitting naked wrapped in red velvet curtains
i told you i loved you.

*SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU LITTLE ******* ****
FULL OF HIS *** I BET YOU ****** HIM WHILE I CALLED YOU
IF NO EYES WERE WATCHING I WOULD ******* HIT YOU
YOU WERE THE WORST THING IN MY LIFE
AND I WANT TO BE THE WORST IN YOURS
TAKE YOUR WORDS AND SWALLOW THEM LIKE A *****

what much affection
believe you earned-her.
once loved to learn-her.
help-her, hurt-her,
oh baby, choke-her.

I though I'd miss
the recollection of memory—
but now I find
that it slips through my fingers
like sand sitting under the
setting sun.
for years, you will stay
buried under these grains.

I wished you the world, but the world was already held in your eyes.

you have come and gone again,
and i am left half-awake.
it was a sunny day,
if you looked above the neon numbers.
once again, i am caught:
sleeping through
my last alarm.

there's ecstasy in empathy
or was it the other way around?
i forgot on the day
i needed it most.

Was it you who
Undid the button of my
Discipline

Was it you who
Released the clasp on my
Curiosity

Was it you who
Slid off the fabric of my
Rebellion

Was it you who
Unleashed my skin on
The world.

How do I let you back into my life

When you slammed
the door
in my face
and only opened it
when you got lonely.
Saw me dead on
the doorstep.


How do I let you back into my life

When the title
of this poem
is the title of the song
that I spent years
wasting time
on loving you
like you never
spent
on me.

And I let you in
And I let you in, again.

I wrote a love-letter to my demons
on the soft, tainted skin
of your back.

Sin has a name
Shaded on you,
in black.

I cough—and crimson flowers bloom on my palms
faster than the atom bomb can fall
As roots grew out from cells—you were yelling at trees—you couldn't move—you were just yelling at trees—yelling at trees
"Because that's all we really are! Just a different combination of the same thing. Like padlocks"

and it's not oak trees, but it's sapplings—and that's a start to a something we don't have a name to. You plant the seed of insanity into my mind,

On the first time I walked your bridge.

He had one foot holding the chapel door from locking, but the other was in my direction. I know you wouldn't have taken two steps towards me, but we both agreed it was fun to imagine that which we didn't believe in. We didn't say goodbye—but I heard a door close.

On the last time I sat on your bed.

He was the eye of a storm within my mind. Calamity. Calm. Calamity. Short sentences with long ideals. He taught me that the people I forget about most easily are the people that just might be the most important.  I guess I really am sorry that I made you cry, maybe.

Even though social networks have fallen away,
Lost in translational love.
I still exist in the closets of your mind
And I know you still open them.

"everything you are
is a product of all your interactions.
you mirror your friends
or you mirror yourself."

heaven may not be a place on earth
and you may not be oppenheimer,
but now you are become death:
destroyer of worlds around you.

you told me you loved
red, blue, and geometry—
and the next morning
i found red
lines on my back
and blue
circles on my neck.
i know you've read
the things i've written.
i know you know
the things i've done.
we share a secret within
the line of our vision.
we never spoke about it.




we never spoke about it.

heaven is 4837km away
(if you take the I90)
and i would walk every mile
to find my wings on your doorstep.

Days when you come home
on thursday nights
with cigarettes in an elastic band
are like black sheep.
I count them when I fall asleep
and sometimes I lose track because
they all have blurred together.

I spoke to god, once—
and he told me
to never forget
the capital g.    / because
language exists everywhere

oops.

I woke up on your bathroom floor with linoleum lines in my cheek.
If language exists everywhere
why did you never speak to me
when you came home
on thursday nights
with cigarettes in
an elastic
band.

*** and Radiohead
We are high and everything but dry.

Language is a tricky thing,
It changes as we do.
What now is slang could possibly be,
A speech so far from new.

Wording, 'tis a fickle being,
Doth grow along with humans fond.
What now is jargon could turn to be,
The poetic script of times beyond.

This fence between our lawns is failing but we will still keep these lines drawn, like spray paint on the side of a closed restaurant.

And I will look but never cross the line.
And I will look but never cross the line.

I rust like an iron oxide coating
(like you showed me how to do).

Supernova, how I wish,
I still were in love with you.

Two years ago could never
come back
so fast.

My present is paining me.
I retreat into my past.

I WANT YOU TO LAUGH LIKE YOU USED TO AT THOSE CAT VIDEOS AFTER I MADE YOU WATCH A HORROR MOVIE. I WANT YOU TO LAUGH LIKE YOU WERE WATCHING YOUR OLDER BROTHER FALL OFF HIS BIKE. I WANT YOU TO LAUGH AT ME BECAUSE IT DIDN'T HURT AS MUCH AS IT SHOULD HAVE. I WANT YOU TO LAUGH LIKE YOU FORGOT WHAT WE WERE LAUGHING ABOUT. I WANT YOU TO LAUGH LIKE YOU WERE LIVING IN A WORLD WHERE THE ONLY TIME YOUR MOTHER WENT TO THE HOSPITAL WAS TO HAVE YOU. I WANT YOU TO LAUGH LIKE YOU FORGOT YOU DON'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE. I WANT YOU TO LAUGH. I WANT YOU. I WANT. I—

Where does love go after it dies
Will I find it in Heaven
With you and your lies?

Will I fall for it again
In a tumble down spiral
Watch as our souls run out and go viral

And look, once more
As it falls.

And will I see it again
In the place
Where love goes
After it dies
In Heaven.

said I shoulda' had a mother as I watched my tables burn

You got better, I got bitter.

I touched you and I took you with a sip of wine but I
(contrary to what I thought at the time)
made the mistake in thinking it's make
you mine.

must be a lesson
or at least a sick sign

Kissing, supporting—
then sniffing, then snorting:
Xanax, ******, Tylenol.
Alcohol will never expire
dealer, buyer—
you're getting higher and—and—and
Louder, louder—
you're drowning in prescription powder.

You're given ***, speed, salvation
It's not love, it's medication.

white was always my favorite color

(i used to remember you


i remember when
you used to breathe)
     but i never wanted
to taste it,
no

I dedicate this to
The uncle I never knew
Who moved into town
after molesting half of my cousins.

The grandfather I didn't even know was alive
Until a week after he died.
******* and **** stains
Dredged into the carpet.

I don't know they look like.
No photo album kept.
No photo album kept.

slowly breathing,
slowly fading—
into something that
never even really
existed
in the first place

filling holes in your heart by filling holes in your skin
dry walling your body and painting over the scar tissue

i wanna love you by the ocean but
you're not as beautiful as the skyline

tell me i'm a ****** up being for ******* with your feelings
while playing with your flesh
body origami, oh
you said you wanted it then

you only regret regretting it

i drove a long way for affection
but i didn't mind a meander
into side streets of self exploration

companionship not compatability

and the simple ******* twists i turned
the gentle buses rode

i tire of you

For my 10th birthday,
You got me an earring.
Not a set,
only one.
A little white plastic wing.

I didn't even
have my ears pierced,
no.
I was afraid of that.

I threw them in the dark.
Bottom-left drawer.
The rickety brown desk
beside my bedroom door.

I called you 'icky,'
and cheap.
Very very cheap.

A fight is a lifetime,
when it lasts for a week.

I got one ear pierced.

Not because I am brave.

I wore
that little white plastic wing

to your grave.

i open doors—and walk through walls,
open thoughts—and forget them all.

talk to a bottle—kiss midnight

i do not think i feel alright

and when you

double space your lines apart

(equivalent to an inch

on the textbook you only use for

a surface)

there will always be a soft spot

in my heart

that i want you to call home

if i am          fine
you are          fine
like words written on the lines of your lips
i will taste the way you heard me speak
and watch the home videos of our time together
in the reflection of your eyes.

penciling in our heights on the walls
trying to see who could reach the ceiling first
if i am          fine
you are          fine