Filled out a prescription
symptoms include
chance of heart failure

I’m looking for a slower kind of burn
A fire to keep me warm for longer
Something that will last throughout the chill
I need a fire to warm the cold,
The cold that’s snuck into my heart.
Not a fire that burns itself out quickly,
Not a lust that leaves me sated
A slow burn to last the night,
A slow fire to ward off the things of fright.
Give me that slow burn to get through
To get through the ice that’s holding me.

It’s beautiful the way they dance
Swaying with cheeks brushing together
A gentle caress here and there.
It’s calming, really.
Then they rally against the other,
Batting away, like drunken batterers.
Then the biting, the clawing
The yowls.
Eventually you get tired of
Watching them spat.
But what I wouldn’t give to see a video
Or still shots of what those little monsters
Do when no one is watching.
When you finally brave the living room,
They’re passed out, cuddled around each other
Purring in their sleep,
As if dreaming of pleasures
We didn’t get to witness.
My cats … are lesbians.

Now that I'm older
I only cry in the shower.

She cries
Not on the outside, not when anyone is around
She knows,
All of her shortcomings, all of her flaws
She is a coward
Too afraid to show emotion, too afraid to do what she must
She could be great
If she would open, if she would stop the doubt
She could be great.

For a moment I wanted to forget about you, forget about what I had to do, and forget who I was. I wanted to think, but not of you.
I do that too much.
I wanted to swim amid my thoughts, go back, move forward.  Say more, think less. Do more, think less. Feel more, touch more, care more. Think more.
I wanted to cut my hair short, be like some else so that I could feel like someone else. Some who wanted to talk all night, who wanted to be there every ******* second,
who wanted me as much as you wanted me.
I tried.
You only wanted me because you couldn’t have me. Then when you got me, you realized who I was. Who I wasn’t.
That I wasn’t. I’m not anyone. I’m not yours. I’m not mine. I’m no one.

Grown askew
Patched a few
Pricked by thistles
Thick in vine
Crawling out to see the light
Shivers at the break of night
Torn and hassled

Burnt, burnt

Wick is silent,
Witness none.
Crying out,
The deed is done.

Cold and conscious, lying still
Breathe in, breathe in.
Wisps that link the frozen ****
Deep and snowy candid gazes
Bursting flames,
Revealed in traces.
Chilled, chalk cold white touch
Remnants of  the old one's gruff.

I'm single.
And not that chill
Ready to mingle,
But that sitting at home
With my hand stuck in a can of Pringle's
Single.

I'm tired
rundown
this poem isn't worth the paper it was printed on
I don't care if you like it
I don't
ill read it tommorow when I wake up
Sober again
**** that was so stupid
I cant believe I wrote that
it was so stupid how some lines were written out really really long and others are just one
word
Im tired of having cottonmouth
And walking around with bullets under my skin
Scratch my tattooed skin with your ***** black fingernails
I will only wake up
go to work
come home
And get drunk again
Then we can all get drunk and high together on the weekend
I have a serious problem
With shooting into crowds of innocent people
Or keeping my mouth shut when I know better
I would rather lie here and listen to the rain fall on the roof
than think at all
Im burning out already
picking through layers of *******
reading book after book
Written by people who have wondered the same thing I do
Who the **** am I? What am I doing here?