Can i add just one dash of color
to your all black wardrobe
your black and white photography
your dark poetry
your cup of coffee
Can I be the colorful imperfection
in your perfect dark world

everyone wants to improve me
with self help videos
and pithy advice
on diet
exercise
mental health
wealth
meditation
10 reasons to own a cat
15 reasons why dog owners
are happier
5 books I must read
before I die (bit dramatic)
10 places to visit before my demise
I don't have time for perfection
envisage some great plan
for my own re-creation
don't really see what's wrong
being shabby
******* up
and writing **** poems

Living life with no regrets,
Isnt about not regretting what you do
Its about striving not to do anything regretful

i'll raise an electric fence around
the gods up there
in mountains and ivory towers
and they'll all wear shock collars
too

i'll spread peanut butter on bread
and send it to them through
the mail

i'll write them letters from the
lower world saying that 'time
really isn't a bother anymore
because apples rot in home
baked pies down here'

i'll reach through my own
tainted build up of corrosive
discharge and pull a petal
from the flower of life
to eat in front of
them with a coffee toothed smile

i'll throw weeds over
palisades into
groomed gardens

i'll **** on the flaming sword
spinning like i do
outside
heavenly gates

i'll put AA batteries on
my ******* and force
feed the north star
until it bursts

i'll stain the glass in windows
extolling failures and shining
blunders under vaulted
ceilings

i'll be nothing less than
the imperfect son of
an imperfect man and
an imperfect
woman--

human
all too human
after all

I’m crashing,
looking,
searching
for connection.
Touch.
Laughter.
Not cheaply.
Only genuinely.
The task seems huge.
Thank goodness that you
(my illicit love that could never be)
left me with this self-confidence.
It gives such strength and
reassurance.

Remember her, old friend?
She was...hideous,
You think she was ugly,
oh no, far from it.

She was the fairest,
Her lavishing sable hair,
Her viridian eyes,
Her glamorous smile,

Her soft-hued skin,
Her delicately slender body,
Her dazzling manners,
Her ever so warm demeanor,

Her moves,
Fluid, graceful, focused,
Capturing the essence of the music,
with her mesmerizing artistry.

She was indeed perfect,
Unique, as no one could be as elegant,
Charming, for no one, was as lovely.
Beguile...as no one was as rotten.

What she was, my old friend,
Was an empty vessel,
the soul of which had perished,
mortified by its actions.

For all she ever wanted was approval,
so what she did was put on a mask,
losing herself in the process,
becoming a ghost of her formal self.

you see me as broken
i see me as whole
but its just who i am
engraved in my soul