I want to plant a garden
And water brown, dead flowers
I wish to reap
Just what I sow

i have a heart
i can feel it

i tend to never feed it.
like this body i neglect,
also the heart inside its chest.

i  hope one day i will wake
& give a **** for goodness' sake.

Mother, mother
You know nothing
You do not know my darkest days
And nights driven by insomnia

You aren't aware of my self hatred
Nor my paranoia and anxiety
And how sorrow ate me slowly
As I lay in my bed silently weeping

I believed that you neglected me
Because I felt alone
I was in the ocean in the middle of the storm
High waves almost sunk my boat

You have read my poems
They were portals to my sufferings
Sorrowful words filled my work
Yet you still knew nothing

4 years of agony
My demons visit me frequently
They hunt me in my darkest nights
Not even the moon could shine

Mother, mother
You have forsaken me
And blamed me for my own sufferings
You didn't understand

My crybaby tears disappeared and my river of feelings froze over
You can’t ever really feel my pain but you can admire the icy crystals that lay over
The waters in which my mind swims in
Underneath my icy wall is a castle with abundant life
Creatures that would inflict terror at night
Kissing my cheek and protecting my life

Let us not talk
about family

My father
is the word absence

And my mother
is the word fear

—

neglect and respect do not rhyme,

{will grant you one,
will give you none.

will demand one,
will send you some.

you poets,
always thinking
you can get away
with murdering
the English language.

***** of assonance,
you do not fool me,
I’ve killed a thousand
men’s “original”rhymes,
while you’ve been
fast sleeping,
they’ve been
fast seeping.

I’ll give you no quarter,
won’t spare a lousy dime,
my spare change,
is poet-unaffordable,
cheap suited hucksters.

work and ****
do rhyme.  
you can be one,
if you do not
put in some.

work by day,
slave by night.

awake to the sun’s
inquiry, what have
you done for me
lately?

IF

all you have to show is this
scribbilus miscellaneous,
tear up your lice-ence,
poetic and DMV, you
ain’t going nowhere.

was branded by hot iron,
early on,
brandy channing.

your best nightmare,
guidance counselor,
extraordinaire,
great big fairie,
poseur, exposer,
m u r d e r e r
of awful poetry}

WHAT,  
what do you stand for?

fireflies
wild flowers
growing in the rough

let them grow
where they go
thriving sure enough