I'm a nutjob waiting to be cracked
by someone with the decency and will
to put me out of my misery
my floors are ***** and though it
drives me crazy
instead of sweeping I
just stare at the piles of **** and
steam blows from my ears
I'm like that in the way where fixable
things get my blood boiling yet I
won't be the one to get it done
what's the point
another pair of shoes will drag in
more dirt tomorrow
I say I'll sweep then
It'd be more realistic to say
I'll just stare

Hey you poets.
Stop making me believe in romance.
It doesn't exist.
And I know I sound bitter.
But trust me, I insist.
It doesn't exist.
But reading your pretty confessions
makes me wish it did.
And now I have this unrealistic expectation
of how I'm going to kiss.
We are pixelated people.
desiring a little more than a glance.
Romance is only fiction
on a bookshelf in a prison.
And I know I sound bitter.
But trust me, I insist
It doesn't exist.

I feel myself becoming bitter
As the world's facade begins to fade.
The sweetness cannot mask the grit forever;
Now I taste it between my teeth as I try to smile.
Perceptions dim and twist.
Reality finally makes itself known.
I fight the cynicism -
It wells up in my throat like bile.
Determined not to let it change me,
Feeling it corrode my innocence like acid.
Is everyone like this?
Was I just too blind to see it?

Good morning again. Wake the **** up! Back to sleep once again in my head. Sway back and forth in front of the mirror until I **** near collapse into the wall with a stream of drool perfectly poised at my mouth before I wipe it off and sit on the toilet.

Perhaps my phone will keep me awake.

Nope.

I'm rocking again and only give up on trying to stay awake bare assed when my phone hitting the floor prompts me up and at em once more to lay in the tub that, once filled, barely covers my **** and ***** that are forcefully tucked underneath my gut flop.

Awake again now
sweatier than before
less refreshed than left over fries after a microwaved cycle.

Them: "look how different your life is."

Me: "new responsibilities - same limitations."

I haven't grown. Life changes. Look back at the pictures and you'll see - less hair on the head that surrounds the same fat face.

At least I wear deodorant, although it is my wife's until I pick up some more of my own.

Listen,
to you it may all be a game,
it's a laugh,
a joke,
which is something I like the most about you;
there's nothing serious plaguing your soul

but it's just got to be remembered,
i'm much too fragile to fall for it
whole-heartedly,
i refuse to see myself as anything
special to anyone
i'm much too destructive for that

so thanks and all
but i don't think i'm right for you
and ******* for that too.

You can either see
a glass half empty or half full
either way there's still something
what if there's nothing to be seen?

I am that empty glass
void of contents
no room for friends
no dreams for sympathy
incarcerated by cynics
locked by betrayal

I tried filling this empty glass with many shed tears;
yet that black hole keeps vacuuming
till all that remains
painful loneliness

I tried asking for Answers
Silence was the Answer
what sort of answer is silent?
I refuse this absurd paradox

I tried feeling this empty glass
with pathetic poetry
I got no appreciation
for each word i put every thought into.

These are the reasons
empty glass remain thus
clanging
in the midst of a noisy world

So label this glass fragile
only time will tell
this glass to break
there would be fiasco
I'll save you a front seat.

Willow came apart
Morning rose without a sun
Flushed pink

The corners of her lips
Yearned with decade old creases
And we all scraped bark from our mouths