strange how a very real moment
later becomes a less tangible memory

time passes and our memory fails us
(what color shirt was he wearing?)

tiny little moments become representatives
for longer spans of time

a phase, or an age
comprised of only a handful of images,
plus the smell of burning candles and vanilla frosting
always plants you right in the middle of your ninth birthday party

I am kind of this perpetually tired
Sack of flour
I’ve been staring at the walls for hours
All I am full of is nothing
And it sounds pretty dramatic
But when i’m fulfilled, there’s no room for sadness
There’s no madness
I feel fine (if fine is the absence of anything)
I feel tired
All the time
I’m never sure what to make of times like these
Am I crashing from the caffeine?
This lack of feeling turns me into darkness
I couldn’t face another human being right now
I’d be exhausted
Apathy is the thing i’m avoiding everyday and every night
Since I learned how to write
Apathy is a man’s plight
Apathy is where they go at night
When you leave me here
I can’t articulate
What I want you to hear
Just know on some days I would **** to care
I’d love to feel
I want us all to be there
A red hot drum beat
A bleeding snare
I’ll touch you where you’ll feel it
Here are our tears -- which one of us means it?
I hadn’t cried in months but
You still haven’t opened me up as much
As I desperately want
I’m signing off
My resignation might make you soft

Apathy is ruling me
Yours and mine just intertwined
Apathy won’t let me
Wrap my hands around your spine
Or see my reflection in your eyes.

there are those who live to see
and those who live to be seen

myself, i'd like to know
so I can placate my perils
of indirection and indignation.
to douse the flame of uncertainty
and quench this abysmal curiosity.

when the day ends,
I don't know
whether I see or am seen

my faith will falter
my ache won't alter
the afflicted anger
Still hoping it will waver.

There is fire in my stomach
And smoke in my throat
And soot in my brain.
So hazy is my life,
Overwhelmed by guilt and shame.
So heavy is this burden,
I want someone to blame.
So disgusted I am with myself,
I want you to be the same.

Oh God,
I will not complain about my life
And my woes;
Instead
I tear myself up from the root and
Pull my brain out through
My nose.

I want to die but,
I don’t want to burn,
Even though I am burning
On my own.

Leave me alone, lock me up
And throw away the **** key.
Take my consciousness far away from me.
Let me die without being dead so
I don’t have to feel the
Scorching heat of my actions.

I know I don’t deserve heaven so
As mercy undo my existence and
Put me back to sleep.

The grains of sand stuck
to the sweat in between my
toes are each as big and
burning as any star stuck
into the spilt Black—
each mass a Giant searing
through skin, bubbling towards
the hollow flues of bone,
kindling a greater burn that
shines out my eyes, reflecting
my own Ancient Chaos back
at those watchful fires
in the sky;
call it an introduction,
a nod in acknowledgement
of our meetings to come.

The cloth tears
shredding
dust unfurling
circling towards the ground
glinting as the sun slices through the shades
burning on each fleek a final glow
a most mundane silent explosion

The universe tearing apart
scattering the stars at high speeds
rocks tearing through black
turning into space sand
things becoming smaller
So minuscule there’s no word for
what is more minuscule than quarks

It’s contrary then  
That quiet even exists
day after day certain things I feel I’m owed
a sense of guaranteed control over my destiny,
when all I am is the shrapnel of the stars
collected together in a precarious cluster
a mathematical anomaly of particles
that settled together
blindly believing they’ll never fall apart.