To the boy who took the time to piece me back together
before I slipped out of your hands
thank you and I'm sorry
it was such a rough journey to take
With our paths running every which way
I would feel found one moment and be lost in another
For that - I'm sorry
I saw commitment grinding its teeth and licking its lips
in a corner with a grin as precise as an eclipse
and I ran as fast as I could
as far as I could
not to it, but from it
because upon first glance
it looked as tough as confinement
For that - I'm so-
The distance is unfair, you say
as vines come whipping down the wall we built together
attempting to create a bridge
but my heart is heavy treasure
I should have traveled with it anyway
taken the risk with a side of adventure
You were willing to give it your all
but deep down I knew I could never come close to standing as tall
You were the giver
The giving tree
and I - a leaf
falling ever so soundlessly
Neither of us saw this point drawing
closer and closer
inch by inch
but by the time we realized it was there
we were already bleeding
yellow and gold and every happy color that exists
Our bodies, becoming hollow shells in a deep abyss
The morning beams trickling in through the trees
was beautiful still
You were beautiful lying on the ground
with sunlit eyes showing another land free to explore
but fear got the best of me
For that – I’m sorry
I may have slipped from your hands but you’ve yet to slip from mine
It is true that time goes on but with you, time crept on
like your fingers going up and down my spine
You were the giver
The giving tree
As hollow as you may be now
your roots are still alive and growing
and I wish I could say more
than anything
but alas, it is time to close this door
For that – I’m sorry

I'm choking on my words and they swallow like bile,
like acid burns all the way down into my abdomen.
I have to say goodbye,
push you away because I am no good, I am broken and bruised,
an over ripe fruit who is only worth the compost she can become.
I don't want to, the words haven't left my throat and I already miss what we had,
I feel the gap in my chest like open wound,
like empty airless space has entered the void of me.
Not even its stars can warm what is left of me.

I am sorry.
I don't know how else to say this.
I am so sorry that you ever felt the burden of loving a wreck like me.
For a time I believed I could have been more than this,
that maybe I had phenix bones and I could make worth in the ashes of this. All I got was burning.
In the hardest way I learned that I am human and nothing more can come from this.
In part I blame you.
You made me - make me - feel as though there is more to this than the story I am reading.
The problem here is that I have always been bad at context clues and the words are beginning to fade wth age anyway.
Its immoral to blame you for my humanity but it hurts more if I acknowledge that you are better than anything I will ever deserve.


If it hurts less I want you to hate me. Hate everything I allow myself to become when I take on the monster in my mind.
Know that none of that means I will learn to not love you.
I just can't be strong enough in that love to be present when it all falls apart around me.
You should keep the happy memories, never learn the skeletons that haunt the empty walls of this closet heart.

Happened to me on a street corner
on either a late night or an early morning.
It took a wallet full of cider, a charity of spirits,
a shared packet of ****** and the smell of glue.
Not the cheap stuff, the glue for models,
and they look alright, right? right man?

The night left me outside my head, with my thoughts,
I had a handful of anti-headaches.
We nearly bled out last time we admitted all our mistakes,
my friend, who always ends a night with a head
on my shoulder, snotting up my collar,
hiccuping up frag grenades,
**** and apologies.

I'm sorry I can be bossy and somewhat manipulative
I'm sorry I'm so demanding
I'm sorry I can be so negative
I'm sorry I hurt myself
I'm sorry I've hurt you
I'm sorry I'm such a crybaby, making a such a big deal about nothing
I'm sorry I can't just keep my mouth shut
I'm sorry I'm so bad at helping you
I'm sorry I can't put myslef back together
I'm sorry that you're going through what you are
I'm sorry I can't stay clean
I'm sorry everything is confusing
I'm sorry I can't be strong
I'm sorry I cried myslef to sleep last night
I'm sorry I ran out of tears
I'm sorry I'm so numb and empty
I'm sorry I can't pick myself up and continue on
I'm sorry I'm not skinny enough
I'm sorry I can't do anything right
I'm sorry I'm not perfect
I'm sorry I gave you any idea that I'm worth your time
I'm sorry I wrote this
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm so
             so
                    sorry

What have I done?
I took it too far
I'm just an idiot
Yeah just a ******* idiot

How can I live with myself?
It might not seem like a lot
But even the slightest pain I cause you
Is causing me to hate myself

I can't eat
I can't sleep
I can't think straight
Knowing that I've hurt you

I just want your warmth
Your love
Your everything
But I don't deserve one bit of it
Because of what I've done to you

I hope you're able to forgive me
I need you in my life
I promise I'll be a better person
If you accept my apologies

Yeah I'm just an idiot
A ******* idiot
Please forgive me
For what I've done to you

Dear reader,

He was a child when misfortune came knocking on his door
His step fathe–
the monster entered his room drunk
It told him that he should’ve died along with his ****** father
The monster’s fist came crashing on his face
Baby teeth went flying out of place
He felt like he was dying
The whole time crying
His mother’s name he was calling
She came in running
With a rush of adrenaline she pushed the monster aside
A plethora of calming words she confides
And through the child’s eyes
All faded into the void
The wailing cries of banshees both scarlet and lapis woke his soul
Ravens in navy blue told him how the monster took his mother’s life
And how that poor beast took its own with the pull of a slipknot breaking its neck
Bulbs flashing,
Ideas popping above every head in the crime scene
Covering what was what the very definition of home
And much like that definition
Emotions left the child
Leaving nothing but pain alone

Like a single snowflake rolling into an avalanche as it falls down from the everest
Our child grew into a young man
And much like that destructive force of nature
He found it amusing
To wreck lives wherever he was put in
A red river rushed right out of a jagged hole
Stalactites and stalagmites,
Blood stained,
Cracked as they crashed on polished tiled floors
Just as soon as a five year old scavenger sees a half-empty bottle containing granules as white as the broken horses from before
Our young man empties his stomach and cleanses his mind
Regurgitating everything
He has taken in ever since he was put in the care
Of the man he just killed with stomach cleansers
Foster,
As cruel as his care can be,
Immediately took him to another plain
Pain followed right away
Like tailwinds that whip what a storm could not destroy
The rapture seemingly came early that year
Designated guardians fell like raindrops
Blood drizzled on printed flowers on the wall
As our killer wallflower craved to see handprints made of blood
Replace them all
Red seas emerged wherever he went
Not leaving a single body alive

My unseen hands touched the cold faces of bodies that met an early death
Just because they have met our young man
Now a revolting adult
It is my fault!
If I had not taken pity on that toothless child none of this would’ve happened
I cannot say that I enjoyed reaping the souls
Of those he enjoyed to reap too early
He was a convict giving a cruel verdict to the jury that didn’t know him
They did not choose to know him and that is also my fault
If he ever comes knocking on your door,
I apologize
For not taking his life as a child.

Sincerely yours,
*Death

I am a poet
And as such, a fool
For it's stories they want
Great tales, heroes too
They want lies and adventure
They don't bother with poems
They'd rather read trash
They want gossip and news
They don't want the truth
They equate poems to math
Poetry is bland
Too tasteless
No ACTION
Give us the movies, the tv, the game
Yet, so am I guilty the same,
I admit
Great poets have stayed
In history writ
But what of today?
I can't name one poet now
Were I not a poet!
Would I even know how?