I’m never satisfied with you
No matter how much I try and change it I just can’t get a sense of fulfillment
Never wanting to show it
Not wanting anyone to see

I started writing this about my poems
It’s only now I realize it’s about you
Still not sure what I’ll do about it
I guess the world will have to wait and see

I thought I was God,  
I was brought-up-by-poetry,
I'd go toe2toe,  
reach each blow4blow,
oh, & thank you, for blowing me,
I clawed up
afraid of heights
from the sights just from growing me,
yup, I fought and I shot up,
& yup I got caught
I: all for naught.,
&all that I bled.

I wasn't brought up this dead,

a sick stick em' up kid.
with a "thank you for sewing me"
a black-and-blue hue
again thank you for knowing me,
l learned each low elbow so low,
been up/down + below
  but again just so you know
the lowest of low was never<as low as

me.

They call me a special name.
They call me a meteorite,
and I know I can fly forever.

Say what you want but that lad means more to me than anything, he’s my best friend my soul mate and the one I love with all my heart, I remember his voice like I heard it a second ago and I can taste his kiss like his lips are mine but I’m so depressed without him he’s my other half and without him I feel so lost my lungs collapse at the thought of him leaving and my heart squeezes tight at the thought of a life without him
I don’t want to breathe air if he isn’t there because without him there isn’t a point
And he has everything I need even if he doesn’t see it cause what I need you can’t buy and what I crave I need you by my side for, see where this is going?
There’s a hole in my chest deep swollen and uncomfortable but with you around I can’t even frown because for them hours I’m complete
I guess I’m a mess I’m sorry in advance
But now you know an my times run out
But thanks again
For you

A dream finds me in
Cotton sheets white and pilly
Which belong not to me
But to the dream that is you
Also enveloped in the familiar fabric.

I do not wake but I receive the message
Clear as if spoken
But necessarily distorted and divine:

Some love is loving parts of a whole,
This is not that.

It is not your voice but the voice of dreams
It is my dream
It is the dream of us in cotton sheets together.

pen,
paper,
late night,
crumpled.

coffee,
sip,
think,
draft.

writer's block
because of you.
overthinking
drown her.

Everything I see,
Turns into ideas.
Poems, paintings,
Music, art.
My life is full,
Unfinished.
Drafts everywhere.
Surrounded by
Undone paintings.
I Sometimes
Have to,
Clean it all up.
Delete, Erase,
Rip apart.
So you can go now.
I don't need you,
You're a
Worthless idea.
It's all
Worthless
Anyway

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