I knew that only telling myself you never existed
would be as difficult as telling a drunk that he'd never tasted alcohol.
But you, my poisonous drug,
I've been sober of you for 388 days now
and if I let myself slip up,
if your name rolls off a tongue near by and I allow myself to react,
to absorb that name,
to taste that name,
to feel, to hold, to know that name,
I start counting my days all over again.

So now I'm just 1 day sober...
and I don't know anybody by that name.

I'm a ******
I don't do drugs or drink
my only flaw is how much I think
I don't believe in God but I believe in me
And I don't know where I belong on my family tree

I don't propose that **** is based on a girl's clothes
I suppose I'm dumb or brilliant but who really knows
You could say that I'm narcissistic or have low self-esteem
with a girlfriend with a pocketless pocket and a head full of dreams

Whoa that didn't flow, that last line
Imperfect effort seems to be an attribute of mine
Look at this rhyme scheme, it's so diverse
I guess I can get away with this; I couldn't get any worse
One favorite, three favorite, fifty-four
Give me validation, I could always use some more
Hello, Hellopoetry! You've been so forgiving
of my beautiful poetry that reflects an ugly way of living
Tell me, tell me: Should I write more?
What if my sadness is gone, and my melancholy no more?
Will you still love me if I write about crinkle-cut fries?

"****. No more suicide poems, does this kid still try?"

Is there still a Josh Haines if he no longer cries?
Is there still a Josh Haines if he doesn't wanna die?
Is there still a Josh Haines if he starts to fall?
Is there still a Josh Haines if he gets it all?
Is there still a Josh Haines after every kiss?
Is there still a Josh Haines after he writes all of this?

Eh. Maybe, baby. Maybe.

"I want you to meet the guy I'm dating
He's trans- don't tell mom and dad"
Well, *******.
you plan to introduce him to a man who won't call him a him
Or respect his wishes
who will behave rudely unnecessarily
and a woman who will instinctively think there is something wrong
with his personality
that he can't 'just be satisfied with what he was born with'
and will think there's something wrong, abnormal, weird, gross
I hope he's a good guy
and I hope my parents grow a couple more tolerant bones
Before they meet him
because I'm scared for you and him
and I hope it'll be alright.

I've been telling myself no
I'm trying not to write poems about you
Mostly, they're on other topics.
That's cool.
But buried beneath them, in the fibers of the words,
is something that cannot be destroyed
a stain I can't ******* wash out of my shirt
I tell myself the poems aren't about you
but that's *******.
They are all about you.
Every
single
one of them.

I'd rather write poems than do math
I'd rather exercise my soul than my body
I'd rather learn about Plato than the Industrial Revolution
is it too much to ask for an education system that
actually lets me pursue
my own dreams?

I am so grateful
for those who know my soul
and still tolerate me-
there's only three, I think;
Shea,
Pam,
and Miranda
that fully grasp who I am
and don't seek to change me except to make me better
and I love them increasingly more with every day.
I am blessed to have those that are,
maybe not perfectly matched,
but perfectly willing to try.

why do I buy books I won't read
maybe it's the same reason
I fall in love with people I can't have
I never reach out quite far enough
so that these experiences are tantalizingly
untantalizing
and maybe I select a great deal of books
in the hopes of finding one that I will actually enjoy
and I read such a small fraction of them
that I seem to be misspending my money.
but I will continue my vice and form a collection
of books that were
never intended to be read
to sit forever on the bookshelf of my memory,
quiet and untouched
maybe there only to be in stark contrast
to the ones I have opened
and destroyed.

you might(ormightnot) Be
asking what Is
the-sweetest-of
the berriestraw but

I tell
you
that

the sweetest is
theoneiamtasting
because i(t)
is

theoneiamtasting
and when

will you(they) realize
that
what i(you) wan
t things to Be
is what they are

and while i(you) hate the word
just/or/only-
wetogether ****
all that is just/or/only
within i(you)/i(you)!

but since is
all that is
everything is
just is
or only-
we have killed
alleverything
and are left with just/or/only death
as our
Companion.

our fragile lang
uage
taught us
everything is just/or/only
nothing
and if Fault is fault
and Sin is sin
then

it is our fault
it is God's fault too

o-u-r
G-o-d
in this, the frailgilist
of lang
uages
even the spelling of the you(i)
does not
determine(butitdoes)
what it really

Is.