I feel as though living
without someone to cry over
is hardly living at all
I crave a connection with someone
who would make my world fall apart
if she became sick
I would give her everything
before I lay her to rest

Could I fall in love again?
The anger in my heart says no,
But perhaps it will soften enough
I must admit it's already doing so

It depresses me
To see other couples
Or people hooking up
I don't know why
But it has something to do
With you

I feel a little bad
that you couldn't just post that
"I LOVE YOU!"
to your new guy
because you wanted to
but that it had something to do
with being freaked out
by the last guy who was into you
so I'm kinda sorry
but I'm also still hurt
but that's alright I guess

I'm better at
crying
than writing
a piece to
wet your eye
But because of
how I feel
as this tear
streaks
down
my
cheek
I have to try
I have to try

The curves in her lips
mirrored those of her back

They pressed together
as my fingertips explored
the skin they mimicked,

and they parted
as I searched further
and found what I've been looking for

I love to get drunk and dance
Nothing gets me closer to free
If you want to dance, too, you can
But please don't complicate me

You give me those
"I want you" eyes

Pass me by
Several times
No accident of yours
No minding of mine
I ask you your name

You say,
You have to be a good dancer
Or I'm out

I wonder,
Have you been watching me?
If you haven't seen me
Getting down unlike any other
Being respectful
And respected,

Then your desirous eyes
Are ******* blind

What's fun about dancing
is that the way
you learn new moves
is by
making
mistakes

Follow through and see
what
you
find

I see you dancing with him
I see you grooving on him
I see his friend tap him on the shoulder
I see him smile and point at you
I see you waiting for him
Dancing on your own
I see him
Using you
And I'm sorry

I'm getting back out there
Talking to a girl
It's going fine
But I don't know about my heart
I've come to conclusions
To help me move on
But when I read a poem
That's about stars
And beauty
And complication
And love
It's about you
It's always about you

A mere three poems you have posted
and I sense something like beauty
in your lines
Something exactly like beauty
A hint of pain,
but every indication of self-betterment
through self-reflection
and direct (non-)action
as you feel the edge
but do not press it through
which I hope you continue not to do
And although I have never
drawn my own blood
I find myself touching things
just to see how they feel;
my intent, to escape anything real

So I imagine you experience life
in a similar way
Small escapes whenever you can,
but questioning whether something's
wrong with your head
And the agony of loss;
your cells certainly remain
And your mention of tampons
brings to mind for me
that my last love's last remaining
evidence of our time
is a ****** wrapper that stayed
in my trash for months,
even survived a move
and now rests in a big bag
ready to go out.
Surely, you are still with him
somewhere in his life.

You are not disgusting,
of that I am sure
We all have our secrets
And those of us who hide them all
are the disgusting,
because you find them out
when it hurts the most

And as I bring this piece to a close,
I see you have revealed two more of your own,
further revealing your heart and its beauty,
as you give to a man who has a heart like my own

You can't be strong all the time;
Sometimes it's okay to be weak

But I have a feeling
if you use less energy
trying to be strong,
you'll find you're already
stronger than you realize

And sometimes
strength isn't the answer
Sometimes
your small, soft hands
are exactly what's needed
by someone in pain

Maybe you're good enough
just as you are

Take deep breaths to get through the day
Inhale, exhale, you’ll be okay

She loves you, she loves you not
Who gives a ****, man
Long as you get play

Toss the heart aside
You can live this way
What’s left is just fun
Consume, rinse and replay.

You know you’re empty
So fill yourself up
Take a drink
Take a bite
She’ll satisfy.
She’s always game.
Who? It doesn’t matter.
“She” is her name.

Be up front
You don’t want anything real
**** love, be cavalier
Just a fling, just for “fun”, just a feel
**** her, dude, make her your *****
Hit the back door if you’ve got the itch
What does it matter, it’s all for fun
She knows it’s over
Before it’s begun

And after the game
You can live with it, man
Feelings? **** feelings.
She clearly wanted it.
You know you wanted it.
Douse your heart with kerosene
And burn it alive.
You don’t need that ****, man.
This is how you survive.

Take deep breaths to get through the day
Inhale, exhale, you'll be okay.

I open the browser on my phone
And then I close it
For the tenth time
I have a dozen things to do
But nothing in me wants to
So I sit here, depressed,
Dry clothes wrinkling in the dryer

maybe if I sing myself a lullaby,
I'll feel better enough to sleep
...what a sad thought,
a grown man singing himself a lullaby

What will it take
To break out of this
Day in and day out
I get so little done
At least at home
I'm always tired
Bored to death
Much to do
But little
Breath

You sway
You move those hips
Disco flies through this air
And you give yourself away

Ran around all night
Unsure why I was in
But not about to turn it down

There she was again
With those black pants
If you can call them that

Crisis after crisis
Where's the birthday girl?
Search five different spots

Drugs sold, embellished
Never seen that life first hand
But now I can hold my own
Guy will get himself locked up
I think he wants to

Where's the birthday girl's friend?
Getting coked
Won't join
Dealer's best friend

I listened to her actions
They were loud
She saw situations as they were
Friends came first
Even if it was nonsense
They needed her for

Her red lips, I watched
Her soft hips, I touched

Mile a minute
But not overworked
Smiles all night
Living the life

So I dance wrong
Too awkward
Not good enough
Whatever
You're unattainable
But
I never gave a ****
About your body
Your moves
The look in your eye
Because I had someone else
In mind
So go on
Twist your hips
Groove your body
I'll be right here
Listening
To the music
With her on my mind

Party as much as you can
Don't ever give up your weekends
to a partner who'll keep you in

Drink, Drink, Drink
Celebrate

You know it's not mature
to leave what you love behind

Do you ever just feel like a depressed pile of **** but you can't tell anyone because you have to maintain your image but you'd really be okay with just dying because then you wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore including both what you feel like **** about and also your image

Your fictional lives on display
You're in the chair
They're on the couch
And I'm on mine

You speak to each other
But you're speaking to me

Your wife cheated with her body
But so did you, with your heart
Now you're on the couch
And I'm still on mine
Welcome to the big leagues

Have you
Even once
Gotten drunk
And a little high,
Swirled your glass,
Looked through the bottom,
And remembered
What it was like
To sit on the couch beside
And listen to this
Belle Musique

Do you think
I could
make something
beautiful
if I tried?

Do you think
it could move
hearts
and
minds?

Do you think
I have it in me
to show
everyone
how I feel
in spite
of my fear
of everything
real?

Do you think
if I reveal just
who
I
am,
anyone
will still
love me?

Do you think
once my
breath
is gone
from my
freshly-tarred
lungs,
anyone will
miss me?

He took a drag
like it would do absolutely nothing
No discomfort
No tar in the lungs
No coughing
No high;
Just a deep breath,
but with lips pressed over a joint

The subtle grooves in
his slow nod
were more in tune
with the music
than anyone's hips
shaking on the dance floor

Whoever chases me in my dream tonight,
I will stop and ask him why

No wonder
Everyone does drugs
How can you deal with this *******
Without any ******* drugs?

I'm drunk and I want you
I make a fool of myself,
But I'm thinking about you
Is that so wrong?

As tears fill the corners of my eyes,
I realize I'm having experiences now
That my girl will never compare to
How could you compete with nostalgia?

I know
you're not reading this
Not right now
But I want to say
I'm trying
to process things
I'm trying
to figure you out
And to see
if there might be
something to this
If you might be
someone I could be with
Someone that might
light me up
someday
Can you communicate
on my level?
I mean
Can you speak to my
sadness
that I sometimes live with
Or is that a place
you don't want to go
Because so far
we're just kind of
having fun
which is good
But I will need more
Because
I don't come
packaged neatly
with a bow
Not anymore.

He sits back,
Cards at his chest
Funk tunes in the air
Poolside vibes
There are options here,
But not the one, yet

sometimes I write
so I can obsess
over lines
instead of the
****** feelings
written inside

I'm not satisfied enough to lay down my head until I've stared at this orange-tinted screen that's supposed to help me sleep and I've spilled a bit of my heart for you to see bleed and you're convinced I've got a hole - an unmeetable need.

And then I'm satisfied.
But just enough to sleep.

This will probably make you uncomfortable for one reason or another.
Most likely, you'll be ashamed on my behalf
Perhaps angry at me or something I write here
Frustrated with me
Depressed by my outlook, maybe
But I will still share it
Because...I don't know why, really. It's not art. It's just me.
Anyway,
I don't spend much time with people who are really in control of their lives and going in a positive direction
I gravitate toward people like me who just get by based on whatever talent and skill they were born with
Most of them don't do as well as I do in terms of externals, like holding down a good job, some money in the bank, buying a house
Most of them do much better in terms of being okay with themselves
I don't know anyone as unhealthy as me
That really hits me when I have it in front of me
Out of all my friends and people I know, I don't know of anyone with as unhealthy of an internal life as I have
I end up scaring, hurting, or creeping out the people I get closest to
And when my internal belief is that there's something deeply wrong with me, that only confirms what I know to be true
Counseling (every week) is no longer helping, if it ever was
I tossed ****** addiction therapy and recovery a long time ago and I'm not going back, but at least I'm not getting worse to my knowledge. Unless I'm in denial. I am significantly better than I was in the months leading up to tossing "recovery."
Let's face it. I'm obsessed with a girl who is LONG GONE.
I gave up on anything coming from that, but I am obsessed with thoughts about it.
Maybe that means I haven't given up.
I'm pretty sure I have freaked her out a couple ways even though I am not a stalker and haven't done anything that could be called aggressive toward her.
I really don't even write "blunt poetry about love, loss, and loneliness" anymore. I just write **** that passes through me.
I tell people I think I'm unhealthy.
I'm completely sober and I'm seriously considering sleeping on the kitchen floor.
Have you ever been this low?
I'm not this way constantly. But the fact that I'm not consistent just makes me feel unstable.
One minute I'm on 4 dating sites, the next I'm disabling all my accounts and deleting my apps because either a) a girl upset me or b) I feel too unstable to be looking for anything.
Now how about if that girl read this? She'd know she escaped a serious disaster.
And notice how it comes back to her for me. ****** up and I know it because I'm intelligent. But that doesn't fix it.
And I do forget about her sometimes now. I think that is honestly getting better. There, that's my glimmer of hope, tossed you a bone on that one.
Might as well end it on a positive.

Looking at hundreds of women
I come across you
No pleasure shown in your face
No moaning from your lips
No enthusiasm in your motion
You are not here to pay for college
Or to cover the bills
You have no choice
No choice at all
And here we are
In our cushy chairs
Spending our spare time
Getting off on you
I regret any pleasure I had
That came at your cost
Please forgive me
If you can find the will
In what's left of your heart
A sickness lives within us
If we carry this on

her eyes
are far more
than pretty;
their surface is
gleaming gloss,
and just beneath,
a green
and blue
and hazel nebula
appears too vivid
to be real,
as though
a drop of blood
fell into a full glass
and turned a
soothing
mix of colors,
but lost none
of its
intensity
or
life
or
the pain
that drew it out

If I were to fall in love again,
It would have to be the right person.
Or the one who broke my heart.

It takes everything I have
to write my thoughts
and leave them as they are.
The truth is they're messy,
and my feelings are messier.

The glass jar I drink from
would make for some kind of release
if I threw it at the wall
with the energy I use to write.
And I think about doing so frequently.

Violence against the walls in my house
has become a more pervasive fantasy than ***.
It's been a few weeks since I destroyed my dresser.
I'm not sure the writing provides the same outlet.

****, girl, it makes me sick
I took a genuine interest in you
Sharing songs
Concerned for your health
Got along so well
Had so much fun
Cuddled close
Intimacy of body, heart, and mind

But go back to this *******,
This ******* *****
This man-child who thinks he's got a big ****
This guy who treats you like ****
***** whoever he wants and won't quit
When he goes to rap shows you think he's tame?
You think he's respectful and doesn't play games?
*******, you've gotta be blind
He just does whatever's on his mind
He can't love you the way you need
He's out for himself
He doesn't care if you bleed
The lies he tells!
I told one lie
It knocked you to the floor
Why so much pain from one lie of mine?
Could it be because I'm actually real?
This ******* does **** all the time
He gets a pass
Don't you suffer from that?
Or do you just avoid looking at that?
Shield your eyes?
Numb your heart?
Leave your spoken word unfinished
*** it might show how you feel
Is that called working it out?
You give him everything
And deny yourself?

I've got plenty of hurt
But don't give it a thought
Somehow I'll manage to go without
You, though, if you keep asking for pain
I'm beginning to think it might **** you one day

I see you
on this film roll
in front of me
22 frames
of you being
held
by him,
moving
in for a kiss

*******
melt this ****

I slipped on the curb
Rolled on the ground
Caught my fingers in the drain
And there they go
A trolley rolled by
Severed my legs
Reached out to save them
Instead, my arms joined them

For years I struggled
To tailor my look
To match what's inside
What a relief
On this beautiful day
By no effort of mine
I look like me

ip-10-0-0-32# find /stl -type g -h -le 5.5 \
-age -ge 24 -age -le 32 -bt thin \
-hrt soft -and undrstdg \
-prs lback -iq -ge 120 \
-fce soft -skn soft -all soft \
-not -name 'Katie'

Yes, I will force myself to go on a date with you
No, I'm not all that interested
Yes, you seem like a nice enough person
No, you don't look that cute
Yes, I still have feelings for someone else
No, it wasn't even a relationship
Yes, I'm aware that's kind of pathetic
No, I don't really want to talk about it

I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm here

You can spin
in place
for as long
as you choose,
and pretend
things that aren't
are actually true

You can replace
who you want
with another,
but he'll never
know you

Your heart
lies here,
in your many
softly-spoken
words

Unless you can
share them ALL,
in time,
with the man you
give yourself to,
he cannot truly be
the man for you

Friday night,
I got high
and watched an old film:
The Neverending Story

So many simple shots
and scenes
played back in my memory
at the exact time they
were displayed on screen
It was beautiful
I smiled fondly
as I remembered them all

Then one shot came into view
One I don't recall
Something simple—
People running across a field

And I bawled

This is The Neverending Story
Yet,
we all die

I bawled

[To do: Insert something about going to work
and not doing anything else responsible
aside from paying bills]

You're a rancid ****
rotting my **** away
as I try to *******
out of my memory

It's getting late
I shouldn't watch another episode
I turn it off and grab my phone
Look through some old texts
In place of wasting more time on tv,
I'll cry about you instead

There's a handful of girls, my type,
at this party tonight
And I have one message for them,
one and all:

*******