I've never written a limerick.
Thinking of it makes me sick.
Better a sonnet
or a woman upon it.
Maybe, I'll just play with my ****.

hands heart lungs fluttering
like untried wings
still wet, a little heavy
quivering like first
or last breath
i do not jump
i do not know which way
the air will flow between my feathers.

i have felt the hands of god
they were my brother's hands
feeling me up on the living room couch
only eleven and i knew
god was a greedy teenage boy
with sweaty hands and a *******

she's just the kind of girl
basement dwellers portray
scamming cash from weirdos
the dumb ones anyway

she wants to be a doctor
but life gets in the way
she still finds time to hit the gym
and keep the belly at bay

sometimes I have to pinch her
"just making sure you're real"
she smiles but I don't think she knows
the way she makes me feel

it's like rain at the window
while you're warm inside
it's finding the sharpest pencil
when you really need to write

it's the clinking of coffee cups
beneath the morning sun
and Euclid's consternation
as two remain one

she's just my kind of girl
that's all I have to say
the kind of girl to make you wish
you could sleep all day

I’m rocking back and forth against the hull of my loneliness,
Stuck in knowing it’s goodbye
But not being able to say I love you
or I’m sorry.
I’m crying with joy and longing as I lie in the love and conversation around me,
Wishing it were mine.
I’ve been high so long my heart rate stopped going down with the sun.
Going over it all all over again all the time.
I feel like a child again, terrified by the the dark, the wind, the eyes of men.
I’m breaking down in the line at the gas station.
Looking out the glass wall at a Lovecraftian highway,
Flickering florescent lights like the ones from The Exorcist.
On my way to a cavernous husk of a family dinner,
Most of them gone now.
Just me, my mother, and my widowed, bereaved, great aunt.
There’s a stupid old cardboard cutout of a mascot next to me grinning too widely, holding up its product.
I scream and tear it’s head off it’s body
In my mind.
I have work on Monday.
This is life.

It had been a while
Even tho no tears were shed
I could feel it was a wound tt would possibly leave a huge scar
I had no bad intentions when i said it
I had no ill meaning when i did it
I did it out the pure feeling of longing
Out of the innocent feeling of yearning
If i had to mke an apology
I would be apologising for loving a woman like a lil girl


It was all love at first
And that love kept growing n spiraling out of control
Every Time my hrt beat ...... i swear i could feel it ...... as if its about to break through the cage
Every Time i put my hand on my chest it was as if im trying to calm a mad dog down
A feeling i loved n hated
Cause Every Time it reminded me of how deep it was
How deep the wound was gonna be
As i kept replaying the worst case scenario in my head
And making more rush decisions
In a sad attempt to protect my heart


In the end it didn't hurt
At least not at the moment
But the longer i sat there the more i could feel the wound opening
As if its about to rip my hrt in 2
I clutched at my chest
Held on for dear life
The laughter echoed in the empty starry nyt
Reminisce of a broken heart
No, a broken mind
As i sat there feeling regret from the words protect your heart.