if i told you id like it if we all studied together would you report me. would you call me out would you say it to my face could we have a conversation or would you even notice. perhaps youre too busy tutoring the student that is nice but never studies. perhaps all you can see is the potential or is it really just the past. i feel like you are holding on too tightly to something that wont return i feel like i am lying i am reading too closely i am angry i am jealous i am overanalyzing the text but she wouldnt tear the paper for you, couldnt hold the brush. but i guess thats just not what everyone wants.

inebriated ambitions caught between drywall with infuriating vision like the fire in a fissure in the trenches of the sea - a treacherous embellishment upon the rolling folds of blankets on rivers italics in bold

unmade bed of unmade actions
sometimes I wish I could unmake myself
broken watches and broken thoughts
another day of broken felt

you're always upset and never pleased
how hard can it be, quite, apparently
forever stressed with house a mess
a child under house arrest
at least one does as they do without influence from you
or at least doesn't display affectings

in retrospect however testing similar conjecture restings
waiting to be found and find indeed readers succeed
when writing unfolds as paper unrolls, rhetoric it bleeds
the words to heed, which meaning needs
a crucial step to understanding

planning trips of time spanning weekends in the mind
sometimes reality creeps up upon your back
though spine I lack, my knuckles crack
I'm ready for the fight - trembled fear in fingers clear
but fists protect my face, just try to hold a light
to my pace, the space I take quakes
with me, for me, from me
look into my eyes and say that you love me

you do, don't you

I know things I'm not supposed to
hide them in a box, canned whispers sealed
to never be revealed, closed, buried, burned
under rocks to overturn
leave no stone untouched, unbrushed
every surface passed my tongue
another night, another one
another taste of liquid sun
burning pleasure delight desire
rapacious hearts of words afire
a killing blow yet yearned and sought
an Icarus wing that will not stop
it isn't bad if we aren't caught

you think that, don't you

but I know this isn't always true
sometimes you're seen but never "caught"
sometimes they know, they always watch
on the dot
of the clock
I know things I'm not supposed to

A LIFE OF LINES upon a page upon a chest would you believe it yet. WOULD YOU SEE a crime to vandalize or would it be a pleasure to your eyes. A WORK OF ART upon this skin but would it do the trick within. AN EMPTY BOOK full of boxes full of checks though the emptier it gets. A SKULL THATS SPLITTING full of gritting anger and emotion. COULD IT HEAL or might it just rot the soul increase ten fold fester and congeal. WOULD YOU FEEL a flame beneath your palm or would it burn not noticing at all beacause doesnt seem youre reacting as youre getting mauled. MAYBE ITS that spot within your chest between the things they just cannot forget. THAT SPOT WHERE THERES an open wound from which your heart falls out each moon and to the ground it hits the stone and there it sits til you atone for deeds that maybe have occurred though the pain is to insure. BUT DO YOU THINK the tear will ever close. DO YOU THINK youll ever add two more. COULD YOU EVER have three lines upon your chest all neatly in a row. AND IF YOU DID the body still could rid the heart each time returned to core and blood inside your head coagulated red with palms that have been burned - THEN WHAT WOULD IT BE FOR.

a hand of circular motion
will turn and turn without promotion
a notion of loyalty unbreaking a sure one
but also forgiving will never occur

boxed up bottles full of glass
a burn from plastic flames of past
a cast doesnt mean that broken pieces should last
for the renewal will never occur

fearsome dearsome and doleful
a spur of the moment decision thats hopeful
a bowl full of concepts berating an old soul
but also the meal will never occur

a hungry and mangled existence
a hurt that never heals, for instance
a distance doesnt make you a witness
for the pain has never occurred

besito, besito
cuando no hay nada para mi nunca
y cada vez
yo sé, yo sé
pero por favor
déjame, déjame
déjame destrozar a mí mismo

me perdones -
hace uno año y aún...
lo siento
no puedo hacer esto
por siempre
pero por supuesto,
para ti, intentaré
eres todo
lo siento
lo siento
intentaré

lo siento
intentaré
déjame
por favor
te amo

its so expensive just to stay alive
i mean imagine how it costs to thrive
experience a life of mint and time
like written rhyme but if it werent the rind of strife
the pith the side the bite
ill tell you what it costs to keep your life

a tax of mine is mind and spine
physically substantial
and soon to be a wound or three
it will become
critically financial
incredibly intentionally extensively pedantial
so thoroughly impossible to handle
quite the radical tangential that you could manage to survive this ******* battle

and yet how crucially essential is a victory to saddle that it is your very life within the throttling hands of rattled gods and brands
bottled shot and ran
right on down your throat
and yet they gloat and boast a new disposable feel-good care-for-you quote
but dont misunderstand they do not give a **** youre broke
broke of time and full of pain
i mourn the future

i dread the chest i dread the suture
the uncertainty will have no name
with nothing for the hurting to be tamed
nor a place to shove your blame

this is the pith the side the bite
this is the cost to keep your life

a budding desire to leave
an afterthought of tears sprouting in the fields
unreasonable hopes and unobtainable dreams
a small amount of lines on a screen - its hard to digest wheels and wings, but harder yet to stomach the prospect of being, of lying sleepless breathing
back pain creeping, repetition steeping, the only thing persisting keeping cling to aching missing fleeing
argumentative sitting
conversations of speculative dissonance, proliferated distance, insisting dismissive
artistically passive tragic and diminished
there is minimal drive, suffocated motivation with nothing particularly persuasive, save for invasive ideas of loving ways and pay that plays a part in paving optimistic savings for an all too distant day

hellbent point of peace
eaten by jointed bells
sand balance spat upon
sawn palace grand hands
swimming riches switch accounts
amounts to ditch of winnings
a similar muck shared between
seams stuck to stick her head
to seek her simple dream

it has only gotten worse.
i am terrified to speak the words aloud,
the guilt consumes me like maggots on a corpse.
i dont know how much longer i should stay or if leaving would even be any better because this is the happiest ive ever felt though i suppose at this point its less which one is better and more which ones less worse.
i mean look at this.
on my own **** paper and its not even original i feel like a puppy dog and i swear i am a real person with my own thoughts and desires a prime example being this completely unbounded feeling of fire that burns with blinding heat i cannot say it i cannot say it i cannot say it
and it destroys me.

sometimes I just get caught in the lines
in the rhymes in the rhythm
read aloud, "****, get 'em!"
impressed by my own self expressed
except when you really listen
when you really hear the words
they don't say much
but sound totally dope
like holy smokes man
your bars be smolderin
bold as sin, they better than
the weatherman
when all his lies begin

secretly I wish I could write better poetry
better raps tapped beat that catches perhaps
but here I am with random words you see
just tryna make a rhyme like
"insert generic line
that doesn't make sense
so vowel type connects"
like
throw away the meaning
the real reason for poetry being
and substitute jargon
bargain lines from the discount rack
filled with thrifted rhymes
again and again and again and again and again
and then
another written crime
cheaply bought counterfeit creativity
a dozen a dime
it's incoherent but it sure as hell rhymes
reused word count: two hundred sixty
recycled! green! clean! unoriginal poetry

sometimes I just get caught in the lines
in the rhymes in the rhythm
read aloud, "somethin' missin'"
called the content and significance
it's actually duplicitous
my poetry on feelings and existence
is really just equivalent
to keystrokes on a browser page
with no real value, no true substance
so never trust this
the words I spill upon this stage
coincidentally no coincidence
like this very post, for instance

sometimes I just get caught in the lines
in the rhymes in the rhythm
and forget the real mission
lose the real vision
composition
fake

corn flake dust
of feelings felt
daily broken trust
heart melt misfortune
the fires of sore sinned
lonely but options undesired
is it too much to ask
apparently

I'm tired

blue rocks blue skies
blue water blue ties
unexpressable thoughts
unconveyable eyes
dry teeth from careful smiles
expired, denied, relying on time
blue hearts blue guilt yellow lies

i would write a poem down
but that would be "a waste of paper" wouldnt it
something you dont want to read
i mean theres no one else right
theres nothing else right
a magazine can only ever be read
the only want the only need
theres no one else right

"im trying to be quiet but im yelling at you"
i dont think you understand the meaning of that word
i dont think you understand the meaning of a lot of words
like love or family or boundary
who can say theres a problem when theyve repackaged
it doesnt need to be solved if it isnt an issue
you dont need to learn if you already know
that control is a synonym for care
that power is the definition of parenthood
you are entitled to manipulation afterall
i must apologize that i forgot

isnt it so wonderful
and why arent you happier
maybe you could write it down
but i think that would be a waste of paper
wouldnt it

to falter in stance once lost never lasts bent left enigmatic in an altered trance perhaps yet bought to a felt knot blotted ink tanking in the evening breeze precariously placed at a glance on the brink of gentle yet voracious helplessly encase us to the bone of waking stasis to the core of breaking faces dropped upon a metal plate with ease in case it is abrasive intentionally late and uncontrollably spiraling into hate

sticky walls hug my heart, forever closing in
I'm trapped inside, secretly I
never felt my skin

neither have I ever felt the entrails of another
the very core the center most
all just seem like covers

for some, of course, this isn't true, and great respect to that
but I have no word for myself
I simply am abstract

over time
aspects will adjust some
I never feel the same two days
never like the same two names
and thus, my gender's Custom

there will never be the time so can i say something hurtful
can i sink my hand into your chest do i even have the power
like you would ever say
but i want to never see you again i want the notifications to stack i want to live a different life and i wonder if my doctor would agree and i wonder if youd just let it happen and if that would make it better make it easy if you could just never
i just want to say it i just want to say it
is this as good as it is going to get
should i quit while im ahead
as if i was ever anything but two blocks behind at least i was always looking forwards but the trouble is i never looked both ways so what is all of this even worth when my body has become my grave

look away from the blood on my feet
turn your head when i fall to my knees
palms calloused from apologies and dreams
whispers from a part of me i do not wish for you to see

do take it personally
I hate your personality
I don't believe reality
I don't think that it's true
yeah
another lost in lurkin' really
once again dropped ascend
a second rendered helpless
steal me
I felt this
I see you felt it too through and through
high and low up you go sky high and to the moon
though I wish you'd stayed on Earth, mate
cause space'll change a man
and now you're one I hate
yeah
so when I say don't wanna hang
go ahead and be my guest and
do take it personally
I hate your personality
I don't reprieve lethality
you know I speak the truth
yeah

ever closer to deciding
so simply said
it feels dividing
i want to be in love with you forever
but i want forever to be over
i could never kiss you goodbye
so i will never say hello
i never realized guilt could be a personality
but thats just all thats left of me
to hold your hand would be to jump into the sun
i hope you know that i will always remember you fondly
please look away while i mourn
or perhaps it wont particularly matter
perhaps i will be some place so far beyond the earths curvature -
out of sight out of mind so they say
and i will never be the same

as points of life are stripped away, one thing will yet remain. its funny how much it takes, the sheer amount of space for this inside my brain, theres not much else up there anymore.
and it is in times like these that i find not even a moment can pass without it, so it seems.
and i am lost within these green and golden waves, and for that i do apologize. it was never my intention and should have been a phase, but here i stand -
and here i feel. with only a single aspect left, i fear. it is unfortunately clear i caught a riptide despite wishing to stay dryly in the sand.
i cannot help but notice what swims the water at my side, and glancing back i cannot help but notice the coldness of my hands

i came across a tutorial on propagating roses
my windowsill is full of propagated succulents
but i had never realized it applied here too

you once mentioned your dad was proud of his garden

on your twentieth birthday, i brought a bouquet for your parents
your mom asked me what type of roses they were
she rather liked how they smelled

we had a stack of empty yogurt pots on the counter
so i snipped a rose hip, planted and honey dipped
i wasnt sure if that family party was a recurring event
but i was deeply lost to your breath
absorbed in delicately moderated intent

we came to pick you up for your twenty first birthday
your mom asked us what kind of jello we would like in our shots
but you still had yet to invite us

the weekend-of i asked if your dad liked to garden
i asked if your parents would like a yogurt-potted rose
i asked if you would like a sapling
he was hesitant to accept, leaning towards no
its already a lot to keep up with what there is
though it was never specified which
and i think im falling out of love

but i wonder if i will ever tell you about the part
of how long that rose was on my patio, and through winter, inside
how from the very start
it was for them for you for this the future
it is hard to go, but i think i have become the executed suitor
as it would seem i am incapable of compromise

and i wonder if i will ever tell you about my heart
of how lately ive been thinking
that i do not really hope i will survive
sinking into tears alive
til love do us part

trademarked fingertips
your fingerprints
lips linger with lust luxurious
excruciating heat
of exfoliating sleep
peels layers of age and worry

slumber of silent lace
and your embrace
of slow paced laughter
is lime green rhymes
I wish of time
remember then that before the after
when there was happy
but ignored the matter
the sweats you let me borrow

tomorrow threatens better judgement
better such that bitter words stint
careful hurt get, if you don't feel it

there's no right answer to this

wallets unfolded out of pockets over windows under doors
silky hands flashing plastic no dollar bill encores
stripper poles in limousines an unattended hell
officer asks license unaware of what's in store
it's just as well
wallets unfolded out of pockets over windows under doors

i dont know how to make you feel this
i dont know what words in what order
but i want you to see if but a glimpse
what it is inside this skull
because there is such unending emotion
and such vast blankness of nothing
sometimes i will just be sitting on the couch
the most innocuous of places as i scroll through
nothing of any particular meaning or significance
and then it opens
the floor beneath my feet is gone and there is nothing below
there will never be anything below
i will never hit the ground i will never touch the walls
there is nothing but darkness but visceral hunger but black desire
i dont know how to tell you just how bad just how sickening just how all consuming it is to experience
there is nothing else in my world there never was and there never will be
and that is the only thought that can occur when falling
or perhaps im floating even flying
there is no frame of reference
only this black of unfathomable intensity it makes me endlessly sad, infinitely mad, and simultaneously forever unfeeling
it makes me want to scream and rip the skin from my bones
it makes me want to destroy my body and my soul
it makes me want to curl up and cry for days on end
it makes me want to light my house on fire
it makes me want to run away at night in the rain and get hit by semi truck or train
i dont know how to write it so that you can feel just how deeply rooted it is
i want you to know how it feels i want someone to know what i am experiencing but i also want it to be poetic
i want it to have rhythm and i want it to make you feel the worst youve ever felt
because thats what its like when it opens
and i cannot get out and i cannot think of anything else it consumes me
i need to make someone else understand
it makes me aggressive and destructive
i learn by example because it grabs my jaw and pries my eyes
it forces me to look
it forces me to feel
it has something, maybe a talon or a fang, and when it pierces it becomes me
it courses in my veins it surrounds me inside and out
there is absolutely no way to avoid it and now there is not even a way to dislike it
once it is inside it controls me and i cannot even say i dont enjoy it because it is enjoying this and it is me now we are one and it is in power
if i were to still exist i would dislike it
but there is only it
my body has become just an object in its possession
just a vessel for the feelings
feelings is such an understatement of a word for what it is
it makes me so angry that i cannot find a way to truly say it
but like i said
i dont know what words
and i dont know what order
to make you understand and know

there was fire in your hair when i held your head in my lap
your skin a touch so gentle a glass of water to my lips in the night
and i held you there when i knew that flames dissolve as in manner do dreams awaken in the light

with your hand down my throat
sitting quietly crying
will you ever let go
though really i should ask
will i ever let it fall
from your grasp
and slip to the floor
and if i did
would it hurt even more

theres poetry on the table
theres water in my skull/
more difficult to hold with each day becoming bolder
can u imagine how it feels
to peel those words like tangerines/
to ask to be told
to eat the definition of incision
and crumple in its folds
just like a rendered dream/
and i am tasting out of control

the clock turns slowly
but the calendar quickly
soon my heart's lonely

i w_rry __u will s__ _nd r__d _nd und_rst_nd _nd s_ i c_ns_r m_ _wn w_rds _n m_ _wn p_g_s, _nd m_ h__rt c_nt_rts; th_ s_rr_w runs d__pl_ in m_ bl__d, i _m sc_r_d it will n_v_r l__v_ m_ v_ins - but lif_ m_v_s\ _n _nd m_ l_v_ f_r __u __t c_rri_s - _nd _ll i h_v_ t_ s__ is s_rr_.

step one
to fall in love is to be expounded deep beneath the sea floor
imagine yourself with the entire ocean waiting patiently behind eyes
did you know that the average window is three thirty seconds of an inch
and the water at the bottom of the sea has a pressure over one thousand times that of the standard atmosphere
windows to the soul, you never stood a chance

step two
elucidated complicated and delicate
as if there was ever the option, but your mind will always romantacise, rationalize, projecting in masculinized manners
you think that you're so important, so perfect, so pliable, but truly you are simply periodic
this is when you start to find it harder to look past the inconsistencies, the unpuncuality, the irresponsiblitiy
throwing woodchips and delivering food for two
you can no longer pass this off as temporary

step three
the first person to ever say that they would like the opportunity to try
the first person to -
the first person to -
i certainly love you

step four
this isnt really about letting go is it
but there is the feeling welling up inside
as if about to filter into something different
something duller dimmer translucent thinner
will i ever would i wither
could i weather let it simmer -

how do you hold on to a burning pan without handles
when you have worked many years
when you have found a golden hour between two palms
when there is nothing you want more

beaten down by sand in glass
i wonder if i will be okay when it finally does pass

i cannot live on with it in my reach
i cannot survive letting it slip
yet neither could i ever grasp it ever keep it

step four
breathe in

step five
you will never be the same again
but you will be alive

chronically perched he crouches on my shoulders digging into skin only resting when my thoughts become dreams when my mind has left reality behind, is it reasonable to believe i have a chance, is it just cruel to hope for survival when the existence is so visceral and i am brought to ruin by a glance

blackened bones cracking in the flames
im sinking, heart drowned, disparity compounding the remains
and this is all i know

if offered potentially bothered could that be the downfall
though left to another, untethered, lost lover, wheeled away
hoarse-throat fear i cannot lose you i cannot lose you
but neither can this stay

it is on occasion, more frequent than before
that i see in you, such that ive seen scorch
the heat is calming, until it is too much to bear
fire in my stomach, too much for me to share
molten marrow dripping from the ribs
and from the eyes, burning, freezing, twisting, bare
i care too much to tell you how i think that you will fare
this light that is entrancing, it will keep you blindly petrified
try not to stare, turn away, though i know you wont you cant im terrified
im scared

and i am here just barely, just hardly
the heart in cremation from unchecked eyes, severely unemployed mind
im sorry im sorry im sorry

but what am i supposed to say
when collar bones hold souls
captively in rapture
fractured aspirations, broken realizations
with dark unsanctioned swiftness
partly breathing patience
but i cant relive this
and im sorry and im sorry
so please
offer me fogiveness

it is to both of you that i say your gaze is drowning -
in different ways but the result is nonetheless the same.
just to glimpse a look is to be ripped by the tide to sea for several days
i dont know what to tell you but i am on my knees on broken glass the eyes are windows to the soul but windows are not enough to hold an ocean. (though do not be mistaken not a drop originated from either of the two of you)
and i will take a shard to my chest
and offer my heart to you then
for what else could i possibly give
for an apology such as this

a tongue a knife a rhyme
a slitted try of silence mine
i could never keep it fought
rip the gut right from my life
ill scream the name until i rot
shreik a word so loud ill cry
i tried my luck but missed the cut

a trickled spiggot sputters with it
a soft spot for the eyes that fall out of my skull
flaming pupils burn the crop
the students of the fire
they stop drop and roll into the wretched thought
that comes each time they learn what has been wrought to build this pyre

to eviscerate the weakened soul
the empty rooms inside my home
voraciously in rapture
tearing sinews off my mind
splitting ears and feeding from the captured
nothing left behind my skin no map no muscles
missing compass knees buckled

******* leave me or ill pull the trigger
ill **** the lost and eat the hindered
incinerate your wicked splinters
and in this home
snap each of your twelve ******* fingers

its teeth are gentle on me in a way that only devils can
we're peckish for atrocities and it has given me a plan
a broken handed man within the corridor
his one eye wide
the other in the devils side
a matching type to mine if i still had my sight
the door is closed and i am blind but we can smell the horror more
breaking out we tore into that bodys core
but that devil, him, the house, unborn
as i woke up in a corpse
for i am dead upon the floor

I might ring you in the afterlife
visit your apartment across the way
if you give me the gold in your veins
pump it directly into my eyes
I don't ever want to see reality again
I might ring you in the afterlife
break your porch swing by accident
apologize but only if it's dry inside
and if you fax me the last breath you took
I'll keep it in a jar
and if I ever need some fresh air
some blessed air
not by you, but by the holiness of lost life
I'll break the glass and consume
I might ring you in the afterlife
so be waiting
if you've spoken with Truth and Time
I'll trade Her number
beauty itself, the face of Liar
and maybe one day
I'll ring you in the afterlife

comforts of assumptions and reiterated traction within nothing like presumptuous consumption wrapped around, engulfed in told entirely - in all of its entirety, left among a cold untouched impression of forgotten yet perpetually experienced emotion, indignation on the paper like an unexposed proposal to ever stagnat motion

his hair is
his clothes are
his voice is
the scent just so
his hands are
his
he is.
his eyes are
they are happy
his eyes are happy
his eyes are his
imagine if they were yours
mine
i could become him
but would i
and if i could then will i
there are so many tears i hold they slip between my fingers
they could be his
would they be his
to become
to wish
and to imagine
is to feel
is it not
and with it pain.
falling sinking drowning
would his eyes be happy
will his eyes be happy
will his eyes be
will he
would it be for such
or is he never realized
indebted soul
to the theorized
im not sure if my hands are fuller
but either choice is incredible
to be offered
such a weight that is to water
it pins me to the floor
or to the wall it keeps me cornered
is this what it feels to be killed
or merely to have lived
and if latter
then perhaps
id like to know the former.

debatable humanity
does he deserve to be known
should he be granted sunlight
and is existence your choice
or is it just because you decided

he should have to grovel for a crumb
have him on his knees
but hes not allowed to ask nor to speak
he must not make his breathing heard
but out of earshot out of thoughts
unburdened fingers in your pockets

which is worse

isnt that convenient

ive heard you turn and your lips say you love him
but hands murmur other words
or is it more a scream
from the lungs he has known
words mean nothing
(tell that to the ropes at his wrists)
but if you are not aware
that there is more to this
he will remain yet hopeless

theres no green in the calendar
but whats it matter to me
maybe some things shouldnt be seen
i suppose its better to be separate
and honestly youre uninvited
its so enticing but frequently in reality
it only makes me sicker
i know im pickier, a lot more particular
like saying well trade circular
but thats a ******* line
(god forbid the take outs delivered)
i can only take it so many times
its starting to surface more often
like cutting my losses
sometimes i wonder if i should apologise
what is to life but to compromise
i guess ill unhappily trot along
and maybe ill choose to forget what i want