I've tried so hard to write
a poem just for you
                                                                 but once the pen hits the paper
                                                          the words, get dry, they disappear
                          
                             every motion, every second,
                                          everything  
                               is slowed down to a pause

                            i'm lost in this universe
                                         that's lacking all things you

even at the thought
or briefest mention
of you
                                                                             i'm back at the moment
                                                        when my life was forever changed
                                  
                                     i can't write,
                                    i won't write
                    
                         because it will never justify
                      all the things that make you good
                      all the things that make you, you

                             i regret so much
                                 yet there's nothing i can do

if i knew there was only so much time
   i would have tried more, done more
                          
                                                                             lived more
                                                                             loved more

but now i'm stuck
in this moment
that isn't
                                                                                                       with you

I know you promised to be always be true, never leaving your ideal diplomacy
Yet here you stand, half naked and breathing sporadically
I'll let you play me like every other nobody who just wants to touch my body
You'll **** me over and leave but I'll still thank you, wiping my mouth on my sleeve
Cause I can't help but wonder where you'd go if you didn't have me

My mind begs a simple question
Does your chastity know just where you are tonight
Does your single life know that you'd much rather lay between my thighs
Cause everyone knows what you want except for you, so use me gently
Please kiss me numb, then you can let me down and break me some

Maybe I'm just overreacting, but the way you let her climb all over you says otherwise
Perhaps I've misunderstood what you meant by cutting all ties
Cause you seemed so very comfortable with resting your hands on my body
You don't know what you're into except when you're ******* around with me in someone else's bedroom
I don't know what I've done to deserve getting so brutally slew, so please just **** and leave me tonight
Even if we both know you'll never fully look me in the eyes after you've finished between my thighs

So when you refuse to kiss me but later lay your hands on me, I'll pretend I'm surprised
I understand you have personal boundaries, I can never force a greedy man to give
So when you brush a fingertip against my lips, I should just smile
Because heaven forbid I should try to extract what I want from an unforgiving heart
Because you're happy to use me when you want some late night company, careless when you leave me to seek new
Through all this I have to wonder
You seemed so  wed to these ideals of being single but
Are you still married?

Welp
You did it.
You made me cry.

It’s been so long too
    so long
I was doing alright —
    shoving stuff down
    because thats what im good at

But this uncorked a whole bottle
    of my Grade A Premium Tears—
    youre welcome by the way
    theyre nice and aged
    i know its your favorite drink

I wonder if you even know—
That you made me cry...
and if you do, then are you gonna apologize?
    because ive got stuff to do
    that wasnt just an excuse
        So... I mean, that wasn’t really called for.

I wonder how long you’ll take
This time.
    its never been that long before
    itd take longer if it was genuine
You’re good at saying sorry but you never mean it.
    youre like the opposite of my last one

Usually it’s, “I’m sorry, I love you, I know I’m a ****.”
And I say, “It’s ok, you are but I love you anyways.” —
    because for some reason i do
    i dont know why
    i probably shouldn’t, you really are an ***
    but like... youre hot
    and im *****
        So—
        I’m 95% sure I do love you.

I wonder if it’s you who made me mean?
    or if it was them
    theyre ***** too
Maybe I was always mean, and you brought it out—
    i wouldnt be surprised
    i can be a *****
        That’s why this is a problem anyways.

I do know
You made me cry
It’s been so long.

You mean nothing to me anymore
I am no longer your *****
go and tie that noose around your neck
you bet I won't be there
I think about you and cannot remember why
why did I let myself cry
why did I let myself repeatedly die

You mean nothing to me anymore
even your name is just an eyesore
I walk with pride with each stride
no longer sunken and petrified
of your inner Jekyll and Hyde

You mean nothing to me anymore
and with that statement its the end of this cold war
I don't know what my future has in store
but I'm ready to go explore
I'm ready to walk this road alone

You mean nothing to me anymore
I know on this path i'll fall down and ask what's this all for
with disillusioned hopes and words- I miss you come back
I'll get back on track and realise
You may mean nothing to me but I mean the world to me
and its about time I became a ******* priority.

All I really want is to talk to you rather than distract myself with the petty things I do.

I'm almost gone.

A deep hollow in my chest leaches at my sanity leaving me bereft of a connection that could seal up the cracks in my heart from which leak my wounded humanity.

Scrolling through my Facebook feed leaves my hungering for what I really need.

The stupid games and apps light up my phone and make me forget that I'm alone.

Tomorrow creeps into each patchwork day. You can't hold time it slips away.

Each hour is fractured by distraction the sun is sinking before I gain traction.

While I'm not looking I miss the sunset. Time to cushion my head with this night's fret.

I won't sleep tonight, like most. My place is haunted. I'm the ghost.

I drift the twilight between realms with clipped wings and overwhelmed.

Sun and moon chase round about; light blinded eyes, thick-dark-muffled-shout.

That's the way it is at night things look different by starlight.

But which am I the sun or moon; do I give chase or am I pursued?

I won't find the things I seek. I'm stuck like this from week to week.

To be needed is exhausting, but to be not needed is accosting.

I need to hear you hearing me and be realified in that harmony.

Instead of trapped between death and life, I'll be free when I see you seeing that I'm Being. Existence could suffice, yet personhood is reciprocally conferred. Make me a Being like you then you'll be a christ.

What is my name?

You say that you can't read my mind as if I haven't put it down line by line.

I want to know I'm more than heat rising from the pavement to dissipate in the sky. Or else call me Mirage--If you can't see me, feel me, hear me.

I'm already gone.

I am thinking
I am shrinking
I am freaking
I am normal

I am depressed
I am complexed
I am compressed
Is this normal?

I am tired
I am expired
I am undesired
This can’t be normal

Let me tell you about how I run
There are a couple of ways but none of them are fun.

There's a "move the **** out of my way" kind of run
Shot at by some man with a gun
Running over old ladies and children
To get the hell out and save my own skin
Kind of run...

And there's the "cliche blonde running through my head all day"
Where I don't get exercise, but she seems to sweat away
The pounds of brains until I'm dumbfoundedly dumb
And I find myself passed out on the couch with a bottle of ***
And a headache that makes me want to blow my brains out
Cause I can't get some Aspirin and a good woman to ******* out
Kind of run...

And there's the angsty little man that runs from home
Fighting his abusive dad and his best friend "hormone"
When he gets a kick in the nuts named reality
and a left hook to the face named puberty
by Mike Tyson riding a bison
Who leans over and whispers "you lost the fight son"
Kind of run...

Then there are the times when I run my fingers over the typewriter
Making more mistakes than a single stared wasted waiter
Running my imagination that nobody wants to hear on a page
A ******* that nobody will ever notice on stage
Lost in cut out hearts and origami cranes
and on washed out newspapers on old broken trains
kind of run...

However, there is a time when I actually get off my *** to run
But It hurts cause I'm a beached walrus with my *** in the sun
Flopping on land and trying to swim through concrete
Unable to see that I have 2 feet
cause there are 2 feet of fat that is constricting my view
Of who I am and what I'm really able to do
Kind of run...


And this is the part of the poem when I run away to Spain
Clearly, I can’t run that far so I guess I’ll take a plane
And I’ll bring the beautiful blonde with me in a first class spa
And I’ll walk into Spain saying “Su casa es mi Casa
But it will never be the other way around
Cause if I see you on my property you’ll be six feet underground
Kind of run...

He was the darkest of dark nights.
He was the view through a hospital room's window, right through the long wild waving grass. He was the feeling of freedom I could never reach.
He would appear when I needed it the most, as unexpectedly as the breeze hits a field at summer nights.
He was the sound of the saddest piano notes at the end of a heartbreaking song.
He was always there, he was always watching.
He would look back at me with his green eyes wide open and his mouth shut. He knew all the answers, but he wouldn't say a word. Words were never needed.
Walking heartbroken down the dark streets last night, I looked up from the ground, where the town disappeared, fading into the wild lands, covered by the midnight skies, slightly touched by the moonlight. I felt him.
Looking right into my ripped soul and deepest broken hopes, with the same old expression across his face. He faded in the winter winds.

07, June 2015.
But moving on, changing places or taking a plane
and leave this bruised home seems impossible for me,
still trapped in this four cold, foggy, silent walls.
The energy of what could have been and the lost hope
is still audible from the distance.
Here, at the edge of this bridge,
where the lonely road disappears in the early morning winds.
This whole town is still burning from the lost battles and fought wars,
with dead ashes from a broken heart.