good weather
is like
good women-
it doesn't always happen
and when it does
it doesn't
always last.
man is
more stable:
if he's bad
there's more chance
he'll stay that way,
or if he's good
he might hang
on,
but a woman
is changed
by
children
age
diet
conversation
***
the moon
the absence or
presence of sun
or good times.
a woman must be nursed
into subsistence
by love
where a man can become
stronger
by being hated.
I am drinking tonight in Spangler's Bar
and I remember the cows
I once painted in Art class
and they looked good
they looked better than anything
in here. I am drinking in Spangler's Bar
wondering which to love and which
to hate, but the rules are gone:
I love and hate only
myself-
they stand outside me
like an orange dropped from the table
and rolling away; it's what I've got to
decide:
**** myself or
love myself?
which is the treason?
where's the information
coming from?
books...like broken glass:
I wouldn't wipe my *** with 'em
yet, it's getting
darker, see?
(we drink here and speak to
each other and
seem knowing.)
buy the cow with the biggest
****
buy the cow with the biggest
****.
present arms.
the bartender slides me a beer
it runs down the bar
like an Olympic sprinter
and the pair of pliers that is my hand
stops it, lifts it,
golden **** of dull temptation,
I drink and
stand there
the weather bad for cows
but my brush is ready
to stroke up
the green grass straw eye
sadness takes me all over
and I drink the beer straight down
order a shot
fast
to give me the guts and the love to
go
on.
from "poems written before jumping out of an 8 story window" - 1966

Its this strangling feeling in my chest,
my throat is shut dry.
No words can describe it
This eternal empty feeling
in the pit of my stomach.
This feeling of water welling in my head,
about to overflow behind my eyes.

I just want to be left alone
to read my books,
write my poetry,
and listen to my music
in peace.
I'm too tired
to stand up. I'm too tired
to talk.
I want to be left alone
to sleep.

I swear I don't mean to look
like a *****.
I am just ******* TIRED.
I am just
really tired
and weak.

This weight in my chest
is slowly
crushing,
and breaking my small
spirit.
Its aching,
and sore.
I'm not thinking straight anymore.
Nothing soothes it.
It'll always be a bruise.

Its not the break up,
its not the fact that you're with her,
its not even the fact
that you aren't with me.
Its the fact that,
I molded,
and grew around you,
which I accepted gladly
with open arms.
You opened
and touched
a part of my heart and soul
that I never knew existed
and synced it with yours.
But then you left me,
and cut me off.
You fell out of love with me.

I poured my heart out
to you
in the most beautiful way
I could.
In poetry,
love letters,
smiles,
and giggles,
passion,
***.
I became completely undone
and vulnerable to you.
Hoping that you would take
good and gentle care of me.
I thought,
as long as I loved you
with all my being,
everything would be fine,
that you knew I appreciated you.
But somewhere I lacked,
and fell short,
and now,
you're gone.