She's a sad excuse for a fuck buddy
She shows up at my house when I least expect it
And thinks she can amaze me with her second rate blowjobs
And her third rate kisses

Her lips taste like cigarette ash and old gum
Her blowjobs feel like sandpaper
And she never lets me use her pussy
Just the ass
And usually she doesn't wash
But I fuck her anyway because I need a release
I only feel worse after though
As if I used my shitstained dick
To sign a contract to be her slave

She can barely hold a conversation too
I ask simple questions
And she answers with ugly laughter and
"You're so stupid"
Never an answer from her
Just her being
Just my worthless being
Just her worthless being
Just my being

"I'll see you again next time"
She says, and I say
"Give me back my goddamn keys"
And she laughs that ugly laugh
"Fat chance, stupid."
She says

I hate my anxiety
Yes. My anxiety is a sad excuse for a fuck buddy.
Jun 6 · 484
Sensuous longing
I want to run my hand down your back
And feel your smoothness across the ridges of my fingertips
Once more

The smell of your hair lingers in the spaces between my fingers
The ends of each strand brushing my skin still haunts my forearms

My hips feel like your thighs are still there,
My spine still feels your ankles interlocked,
My tongue still remembers how yours tasted,
My teeth still feel your bottom lip in between

In your voice, I heard the angels of heaven sing;
And in your eyes, I saw its shining gates;
And in your eyes, I saw burning passion;
And in your eyes, I saw true love
My depression comes to my bed and gives me a warm embrace almost every morning
I try to wrestle myself out of its grasp, but it only grabs on tighter
Whispering in my ear, telling me that I don't need to leave
Telling me how useless I'll be if I stood up and tried to do anything
I try to fight but I'm frozen in place, forced to endure its tight hold
(On days that I do have the courage to fight, I fight and fight and fight
But end up giving up and giving in)
About three hours will go by while I wait for it to get sick of me and let go,
Two hours if I'm lucky (I'm usually not)
And when it does get sick of me, (if I'm lucky) it reaches into its pockets and throws a little bit of motivation my way
Then it leaves
And I expect it to happen again the next day
If I'm just as useless as I think I am, tell me
I can't keep parading around like I'm doing something right,
When obviously I'm not

I'm tired of not being helpful.
I am done with not caring.
I try to help and I do care,
But everything I do and everything I say
Dissipate into the air like cigarette smoke

I panic, I worry, I cry, I fear,
But nothing gets done.
Nothing gets done because my heart fills with all these emotions
That I end up screaming without me knowing it
That I end up screaming at everyone else Instead of screaming at God
(Who deserves all the screaming I want to do for making me this way)

If I'm useless
Then I'm useless
No stopping that
I just wish
Someone would tell me the truth
Jan 29 · 210
Resting Pieces
Here lies your poet
Breathing and awake,
But without any signs of life

The deep hours of the night
Are a perfect simulation of oblivion
And the uncomfortable foam mattress
A suitable casket lining for the dead inside

I am a ghost to those who love living
Barely a breath in their lungs
Barely a word in their sentences
But merely a fraction of what I wish to be

Please make me part of it
With open arms and accepting hearts
Why do all of you resent my warmth?
Why make me feel unwelcome?

For now I stay dead, the way you all want me
Because this is all I can do
Break me no more
Because there is nothing of me left
Jan 1 · 399
Heroes
You once told me
That we would rise from the dark
Like a phoenix in its own ashes
And I believed you

You talked about the beauty of the past
Of caves and of their drawings
How the past calls us to use it
A fiery sword to lead us to the light
And I believed you

You showed me that my art could be more
That there should always be meaning
That there should always be soul
And so I gave my art more life
More soul
And I believed in you

Each line you drew
Each black acrylic spiral
Each word you wrote on canvas
Were similar to mine, in a way
The way the words repeated over and over
Were similar to mine
Were similar to mine
Were similar to mine
And I believed in you

Each line you drew
Each black acrylic spiral
Each word you wrote on canvas
Were similar to mine, in a way
But yours were never yours to begin with
They were Basquiat's
They were Basquiat's
They were Basquiat's
And I couldn't believe it

You showed me that my art could be more
That there should always be meaning
That there should always be soul
And so here it is
With more soul than you will ever have
I hate that you made me believe in you

You talked about the beauty of the past
But never talked of the horrors of your own
And now approaches the fiery sword
To strike you down like the demon you are
And I believe you deserve to rot

You once told me
That we would rise from the dark
Like a phoenix in its own ashes
And I believed you
But now I believe that you don't deserve to
Fuck you, Rocky
Oct 2017 · 267
October 13
"Good morning, sir"
He said as I fixed a rainguard
Back unto my car
I froze in place
And he stood in his

I could feel grief in the air
Accompanying this old man
And I stared

"I am a garbage truck driver
My wife died, you see
She used to sweep the street
Around here
Maybe you noticed her
Once or twice"

He shook a crumpled sheet of paper
Filled with bills
Twenties, fifties, and hundreds
And he spoke again

"It's been two weeks
I don't have the money
To bury her"

He said it so casually
His voice was like
A broken record
To him
Probably

But somehow there was still pain

I handed him some money
He bowed
Thanked me
Walked away

And I stood there
Frozen
Oct 2017 · 411
October 11
So what did you do before this?
I asked the driver
"I drove trucks.
Now I drive people to places"
I sat and listened
As the radio melodies faded
And as the beeping
And the woman's voice
From his smartphone
Began to sound like silence

"My father drove trucks
I watched him drive
Day in and day out
I watched him drive so much
That when I was 12
I grabbed the wheel
And did his job for him"

And so we talked
Passing green lights
Stopping at the red ones

Finally,
The car came to a halt
I handed him my money
And told him to drive safely

That's when I realized
Some men are meant for some things
I can hear the river's current
From where I'm seated
And I can hear the bullshit music
Playing some few blocks away
The night has its ways
Of not giving you peace
Whenever you need it

The plants flow down the river to receive their dark embrace,
And it fills me with envy because they recieve nightly
What I have always asked for

Life, to me, is torture
A there and back again adventure
Of misfortune and self-doubt
And I choose not to live a life like this
But it is given to me against my will

I wish God were real so I could have someone to blame
Unfortunately, I can only blame myself
For all the shortcomings,
Anxiety,
Doubts,
And shit luck

All I can do is self-medicate
With things that are not medicine
Things that do not cure
But things that delay
And delay
And delay
Like AIDS and herpes
Except it isn't

I want to be freed from this life
This there and back again adventure
Of misfortune and self-doubt

Maybe one day
I'll flow down life like the plants on the river
And receive the dark embrace
That I've always wanted
I should kill myself
Jul 2017 · 244
Kiss
While the cold, golden piss of dull temptation
Slowly fills up the acidic pool of my empty stomach
I pray hard for even the littlest of light
As tears roll down my face
I pray so hard
That I forget which god I am praying to

I fall deeper into the abyss once again
And feel cold hands gently caress my face
"I have brought you the light you long for."
She says
But I know not if she is the answer to my prayers
And I know not of this light she brings

She comes to play when I am ill
She comes to flirt, but never stays
Some days I wish she would
Sometimes I wish she'd kiss me
And end all of my suffering

When she leaves,
The sorrow in my heart grows greater
When she leaves,
The weight on my shoulders, she brings with her
But I know one day
She will kiss me
And I won't be ready
Jun 2017 · 328
Wide awake in bed at 4 AM
They pour out and foam up at the bottom
The way waterfalls do
As they leave my lips
The sounds they make as they crash
Into the waters below
Are like the bloodcurdling screams of little girls
When the fires in their homes blacken the air
With smoke unlike the gray cigarette smoke
That they are familiar with
The smell of "home" in some way
The smell of hugs
And kisses
And love

Fear is all there is when they come out to play
They tug at ears and pierce them unsavorily
Leaving holes in places you never wanted
Cry all you want, but the scars they leave are scars
Like on your wrists and on mine
Except they don't fade
And they never will
But one day they will open up again
And bleed like they're brand new

They tell me they'll make it all be alright again
And they phase through blades like ghosts
Smoothly and gracefully at the price of my sanity
I don't want to do this anymore
I don't want to keep doing this
I'm tired of lying
I'm tired of lies

Maybe I'll find the strength
To give the truth a shot
One of these days
Pass, people, pass
People pass my field of vision
Different people
Some smart, some dumb
Mostly people
Sometimes a dog
Sometimes a cat
A few birds here and there
But mostly people
Old people
Young people
Mostly disgusting people

People like the young people
Who go home to their disgusting houses
And their disgusting families
To eat their dinner
And after
(On some nights)
Mommy and daddy
Discuss politics
Over a bottle of red wine
While the TV soap operas cry
About a gangster's child or whatnot

The trees dance as I think
As I think about the young people
The disgusting young people
The trees dance as the people pass
Dance, trees, dance
Pass, people, pass

People like the old people
Who work at dead-end jobs
And those with non-dead-end jobs
The ones who legally buy alcohol and smokes
And pay disgusting bills
And pay off disgusting loans
And disgusting mortgages
While they drink their alcohol
While they smoke their cigarettes
And think about bills, loans, and mortgages
About politics and where they stand
About the gangster's child on TV
And they talk about the bills, loans, and mortgages
Politics too
To their wives or husbands or kids or selves
As the TV drones on about the gangster's child

The trees stand as I think
As I think about the old people
The disgusting old people
The trees stand as people pass
Stand, trees, stand
Pass, people, pass
Apr 2017 · 923
Final Frontier
The phases of matter all turn into one
When her lips touch mine
It burns like a thousand supernovas
And freezes like the vaccuum of space

The stars spill bright light through the invisble river
That holds no air in the darkness

The cheek of her face brushing mine
Fills me with the feeling
Of my heart when I see crescent moons

I can't wait to float away
Into the bright swirling stars
In the distance
With nobody but you

And maybe when we do that
We'll feel the stars pull us back
Like on starships
Much can happen
In the space
Between the marks
Of the seconds
On a clock

The world could turn
Into a murky brown puddle
Of shit and shitstains
That dirties the boots
Of all the people
On the way to work
Or home to the wife
And twelve kids

The room with white walls
Slowly but surely
Turns to one with black walls
That sweat dark pearls
That melt the doorknob,
Block the windows,
And cover the door

The bubbles in the bath
Burst and leave clear water
That hold your floating filth
In microscopic specks
And the flickering light
Flirts with you
To dip your head and fall asleep
In the fading warmth
Based on some lines of The Crunch by Charles Bukowski
Maybe she sees
Gentle rays of the sun
Glimmer from my face
Just like how I see her:
The light in the darkness
Of life's obscure fog

I wonder if she feels
The warm summer breeze
That would slowly blow
Upon her soft cheeks
Whenever I speak
The same breeze I feel
When she tells me
Nothings and somethings

I hope she feels
The slight glow
Of white moonlight
When my arms wrap around her
The very same glow
Whenever her arms
Lock themselves behind me
Sending me a message
To never let her go

I wish she forgets seeing
The heavy rains
That flood the roads on my face
Whenever I asked
If I were enough for her
Or if I were too much to handle

I wish she understands
The cyclones in my head
That clap thunder and flash lightning
Whenever the anger in me
Boils the chaotic saltwater
And creates tsunamis
In the vast ocean of my mind

I wish she forgives me
For the hailstorms in my words
That fall to the ground
And break like glass shards
That shatter windows and roofs
And car windshields and windows

I am a force of nature
Feb 2017 · 540
A quick drive back home
The street is dark
Yet still visible
Here on the overpass

And yellow lights
Unevenly dot
The concrete and steel
Statues made of rooms
That stand blocks and blocks
Away

All I hear are the sounds
Of my engine humming
Like angered bees
Or silenced jackhammers

These are simple nights
In the "great" city
Nights of silence
Nights of calm
Nights of happiness
Despite being alone
Feb 2017 · 597
Darling, I have a question:
Am I enough?

It's just that I never feel
Like I'm enough
It's like there's so much more
That I can do
But can't
Because of
My empty pockets
Or my bursts of depression
Or my rage toward the past
Or whatever else

I'm sorry if I can't give you the world in itself
At this very moment,
But I'm giving you bits and pieces
So that one day you'll be able to take them
And put them together to see it

I'm trying
I'm trying
I really am trying
Believe me

I want to give you the universe
From the grains of sand
Which you hate so much
To the stars in the sky
That I have never seen
Just you wait, my love
Jan 2017 · 730
12 o' Clock Syndrome
Late nights haunt me
With memories of old conversations
With people I used to know

I remember the ways
I used to look at them
And how dumb I was
And how dumb they were

The names and faces
Old friends and would-have-been lovers
Ring and ring into my head like church bells
Before the Sunday mass would start

They echo in the halls of my mind
Like noise in school corridors
Or cars honking in parking lots
Or even guns at a shooting range

I live with these ghosts
Who sing about the friendly insults
And misunderstandings
And shattered hearts

May God be with me.
Jan 2017 · 605
Tequila
Gold, Glory, and God
The devil's water can guarantee you at least two of these.
I have seen gold and glory, but I have not once seen God whilst indulging the devil's drink.
The devil takes the night when I drink his golden piss of dull temptation leading me down into a spiral pathway of my own rise and fall
I see myself atop the world as I text you paragraph after paragraph of how much I love you, how I want to spend my life with you, how I want you to feel, and how our future would be.
While you're asleep, of course. It's at least 2 AM.
I text and text and text like a creepy Romeo to an unaware Juliet. I await your reply as the alcohol races through my blood, replacing all of the reason from my system.

The devil is a sly, cunning fox for convincing me to humor him by choking down glass after glass of his chosen poison.
My throat is burning at this point, but I am coaxed into having more. There is no stopping the act, there is no need to.

I am at peace while God sleeps and leaves me to create my own destinies. I text you again to the tune of another glass. I text you again to the tune of another glass. I text you again to the tune of another glass. I see the devil cheer me on. Blurry and dark, but I see him cheer me on.  I try to text you again to the tune of another glass, but the bottle has run dry. I find myself a comfy spot on the floor and let the night take me away

And I awaken hungover to the tune of "I'm sorry. I think we should just be friends."
July 4, 2016
Jan 2017 · 718
It's the little things
The way she smiled
At the sight of
Pretty glass bottles
And things like honey
Always amused me

She sees so much good in this world
And she is slowly teaching me how to
Jan 2017 · 425
Instability
Three knives
In a triangle
On my back

Mind
Body
Soul

Mind is a mess
A rip in a tea bag
Where all the leaves
Fly wildly
Like birds to a gunshot

Body is a temple
One I have desecrated
With ugly graffiti
And human piss
And posters
Of corrupt
And desperate
Politicians

Soul is black
Like sewer grime
Smells like it too
It's putrid
It's disgusting
It's not worth anything

There is no balance
Jan 2017 · 288
Lights
The white LEDs shine bright
Like the unwanted pseudo-stars they are

The living room that houses the sofa I am lying down on
Has white walls that reflect the bulbs' light
Almost as if they were mirrors

The lights hit my face the way lights hit faces,
In less than a snap of the fingers,
It still feels like it's dark, to be frank

It's the kind of darkness you experience
When a blanket is over your head
While you're camping on a starless, moonless night
With only the tent floor as your sleeping bag

You feel the earth stabbing you in a billion different points
As the cold slowly freezes your fingers into submission
And the darkness you see is the darkness only the ones who have gouged their eyes out can describe
The pitch black of all the pitch black

The lights hit my face now like an oncoming train,
Yet I see darkness emanate out of the bulb like splashing waves on a beach
Jan 2017 · 580
thoughts over tea
To be honest,
I was always quite scared
At the thought of meeting you.
Blood used to rush through my body
Whenever I thought of breathing the same air
In the same room as you.

I'm glad you pushed me to come
Because you gave the bitter, black coffee
A few tablespoons of sugar.
Jan 2017 · 555
Rooibos
I'm waiting for my tea to arrive in this hotel lobby.
The slow piano music playing in the background
Is more familiar than it should be.

I should be calm, but all of the couples around me
Are exchanging sweet nothings and sweeter kisses
And it makes me jealous
Because I wish you were here
So we could do the same.

Tea is here, love.
Dec 2016 · 241
December 27
last night, I lost respect for my father.
i looked up to him,
once upon a time,
but all that is gone.
God damn him.
God damn his arrogance,
God damn his anger,
God damn the alcohol in his blood,
God damn my guts to tell him about all of it

and last night, he turned I to i
as all of the confidence in me broke
as he told me i was ungrateful
(grateful for what? his fucking drunk ass?)
as he told me he did his best to understand me
(he never did)
as he struck my arms and my chest
as he grabbed me by the fabric that covered my shoulder
as his drunk tears went down his drunk face in his drunken frenzy

i'm sorry
i said
"FUCK YOU"
he said back
i'm sorry
"FUCK YOU"
he said again
"Thank you for embarrasing me"
he said
and i told him he was welcome
if he wouldn't hear my apologies,
maybe he could take his "FUCK YOU"
and shove it right back up his ass
for being the self-righteous shit he was
"SO I'M THE ASSHOLE?"
he screamed into my face
and every fiber of me wanted to say yes,
but i told him what he wanted to hear
he told me he was holding back his anger
but i wouldn't care if he didn't

he told me to fight him
man to man
as the sounds of my mother's cries echoed into my left ear
and as the feeling of my brother's arm warmed my left shoulder,
but i wouldn't
because i was better than him
in the sense that i wouldn't let my emotions
get the better of me
unlike my days in school from first grade to tenth.

last night, my mother cried on my shoulder
and told me she was proud of me
and told me i was a good son
and told me never to marry
and told me to never be like my father
(i never did want to be like him to be honest)
i will never be like my father
i will never be
and if ever i do turn out like him
then God damn me.
Dec 2016 · 251
Dreams in a cold room
I wish I were somewhere else
Somewhere not of the world
Somewhere peace
Somewhere love
Somewhere smiles are not false

Nirvana maybe
But the chaos here
does not permit passage
Fay gave me the title.
The Christmas spirit has dissipated into the atmosphere. The jolly tunes come out of the speaker only to be turned into sad sounding drones. Every note becomes sadder and sadder and the lights grow dimmer and dimmer. It's like watching an old TV shut off, the sides fade into the middle and eventually all you have is blackness. You see your dark reflection on the convex glass. Growing old is watching a TV turn off. The happy cartoon faces slowly fade and you're faced with a reflection of yourself. What do you do now? 

The happy cartoon that is the Christmas spirit has faded into the abyss and all you're left with is yourself. You float in the dark nothingness that is the act of being self-aware. Christmas is just another day on the calendar. Say goodbye to the cheer and the snowmen and the gingerbread houses and the Santa hats. Say hello to life.
Dec 2016 · 358
True Purpose
I went to the flat today
The pink light from the red curtains
Colored in the white walls
That held your new life in pictures
And the bed where we laid
Reciting lost poetry to each other
At four in the morning
Contained the same mess
That was made the day you left

I stood still in the middle of everything
And took the deepest breath I could
Before having to go back into the ocean
We all call "the real world"
In that breath, I heard your soft voice
Whispering sweet somethings into my ear,
I felt your hands slowly grip mine,
And the feeling of your loving eyes staring
Into every fiber of my lonesome being
Gave me goosebumps

In that moment, I was calm again
My mind was once again at peace
After all the hours of screaming
After all the days of torture
"Shit." I said
"I almost forgot to bring home the soy milk"
Dec 2016 · 301
A Short Call
Less than two minutes
I heard your voice
For less than two minutes today
I hope the sound of it rings in my head
For the remaining 1438 and a half
I miss the air in your apartment
The scent of you and city air fills it up
The calm and the chaos in every inhale

I miss the warm days with cool breeze
Where your lips descended upon mine
And our tongues ran in each others' mouths
Like wild horses over grassy hills

I miss the cool nights with warm breeze
Where our minds ascended into the stars
While bottles of craft beer and odd mixes
Gradually declined into emptiness

I miss you.
Dec 2016 · 503
Late December Woes
The darkness disguised as light that is life creeps slowly into my spine like water dripping down a rain gutter after a storm. The reality in the air fills my lungs like twenty cigarettes all smoked in a dimly-lit stairwell on a Tuesday afternoon. I exhale as hard as I can, but the reality ceases to leave my being. It carves into my windpipe like a tiger's paw, ripping it into shreds as gravity pulls it back down.

I take a look at the calendar. A calm font reads December 24. I feel nothing. There is no cheer or happiness lingering in the supposedly cool December breeze. It used to fill the air with the scent of gingerbread and mint, but all there is now is the smell of rotting garbage, sun-dried piss, and the occasional stench of shit.

False smiles are painted across coffee shop windows. Bright lights that distract you from the world are wrapped around the trees. Mary gives birth to Jesus on each manger atop each building. It all still feels blank. The magic is gone. The false smiles frown at me. The luster of each bulb of each string of light has faded into a bland dullness. What lies atop the buildings are dead eyed statues.

Where has it all gone?
it's a hot day
in mid-December
as well
the world
(as we know it)
has gone
even more
topsy-turvy

Decembers used to be cold
like heartbreak after a date
or a cold shower at 4 a.m.

there isn't much around
besides the ceiling, the floor,
and the four walls that confine me
while the not-so-soothing sounds
of motorcycles pass by
my cage with silver bars
that i like to call my house

i miss you
and the summer's warmth
you bring when nights are cold
and the October breeze you have
when the days are hot
A response to Fay's "I'm talking to you from the jade market". Give it a read. God, I miss her.
Dec 2016 · 547
Monotony
I am back in the cycle.
The back and forth
And back again
Of the silent non-silence
Of this filthy city life.

I wake up in the bed
I laid in the night before,
Rise up to take a liquid shit
And retreat once again
Into the blanketed dome
That is my mattress.

The sun shines through
The cracks in the seemingly
Single piece of colored cloth
That we call curtains
And seep in through the fabric
Of the actual single piece of cloth
That we call blankets.

When the damned star's light
Is more than bearable, I take away
The blanket from my face
And face reality as it is
From the cool and calm not-peace
That is my room covered in sunlight.

A few more hours
Worth of wallowing in not-happiness
Would be very sufficient
To start the "day".
A few more hours
Adjusting to the hellish yellow light
That blinds my eyes,
But frees them from the darkness
At the same time.
A few more hours
To plan the next few hours
Only to not follow the plan
And once again act on impulse
The same way I did yesterday.
Dec 2016 · 822
A bit of nonsense
Come with me
Through the noise
And the disarray

The deafening tones
Of screaming children
And dying adults
(Millennials probably
We both know
That they never
Shut up)

The world
Around ourselves
Is a path
Of broken glass
Atop coal embers,
So I beg you
To hold my hand
And walk through them
With me
Dec 2016 · 267
Uncertainty
I fear
But I do not know what I fear
Maybe it's
Late nights wasted with people
And thoughts of people
Who do not matter
And who will never matter
Or only mattered once
It is human nature to desire death
Especially in this day and age

The world around us has become a collection of instants
From the messages we write up to the noodles we eat

Life goes so fast that we absorb so much at once
Our minds are filled with milleniums
Of words and dates and names of people we will never meet
And knowledge of places we will never go to

Humans live too fast
Our minds faster than our bodies
And when our minds live life to the fullest
We are left with only our bodies
How would it be like to die in a gutter?
A gutter made of cold pavement
That slowly grows warmer and warmer
As I lay down and feel the life drain out of the pores of my skin
A gutter with stagnant water turned green
By whatever the hell makes stagnant water green

Some nights I see myself dying in a gutter
I feel the warm blood rush out of my mouth
And the icy gutter slime on my right shoulder
Both of them cooling my skin, one more than the other

I watch cars full of people
Who don't care enough to help a dying man
Pass by my side as I die sluggishly
With their rubber necks and undeaf ears

I don't want to die in a gutter
I would never want to die in a gutter,
But if there is peace and silence in dying in one
Let the cars pass
Dec 2016 · 302
Fly, you fools!
To escape
The horrors
And reality
Of life
Is enjoyable

May it be
Roadtrips
And city lights
Or highway reflectors

May it be
In relics
In museums
Or paintings
In hallways

May it be
In dark movie theaters
On summer nights
Or in sunlit parks
On summer afternoons

May it be
With the love of your life
On condominium balconies
Or on soft beds

Escape
The reality
Of the cruel world
Dec 2016 · 615
Solitude
Beams of morning light
Force their way into my room
The noises from the cars
And motorcycles and the TV
Blast their way into my ears
But I stay strong

I am not ready for a new day
I do not want the sunlight or the cars or TV
I am not ready for a new day
And I would rather stay under my blanket
Credits to Fay for the title
I want to choke you till the life leaves your eyes
The sound of you trying to force air into your lungs
Is a sweeter fantasy
Than me wanting to jab myself in the neck with a pen
Or stab my eyes out with a knife

The dream that is your death
Is sweeter than my suicide
More eye-opening
Than my dark desire
To be in a casket

As the days pass,
My anger only grows
And the dreams in my head
Stay dreams
This poem is dedicated to the people in my life who have given me nothing but grief and annoyance. I hope you people enjoy this. Fuck you.
Nov 2016 · 504
Words on skin
If I could tattoo my poetry to my skin, I would
I would show them my word-riddled wrists
Where the scars used to be
And the prosaic verses sprawled on my neck
Where I planned to loop the rope

If my poems were good, I would tattoo them on my skin
Sadly, all I have are a sophomoric amalgamates of odd words
That make dead poets turn in their graves
Oct 2016 · 720
Tagaytay
The cold mountain air nips at my cheeks
While I sit on the cold grass of this slope
I can feel the chills poke my skin like needles
And crawl down my spine like spiders
But the chills aren't worse than the cold feeling in my chest
Because you aren't here by my side
Oct 2016 · 614
Vacation
Be strong, my dear
Because I know you can do it

The demons crawl up
From the ground below
And steal the air you breathe
But take it back from them
Because it's rightfully yours

Be strong, my dear
Because I know you can do it
Oct 2016 · 505
I don't need it
I used to spend my nights
With only bottles of alcohol as friends
They didn't care if I talked about
Love or
Dying or
Life or
Anything
They listened

Months later, I met her
She didn't mind if I talked about
Love or
Dying or
Life or
Anything
She listened
And said she loved me
And I abandoned my old friends
Because she gave me the bittersweet buzz
Without the bitter

I never liked the bitter
I have not felt the perfect calm
That exists when I'm in proximity to your being
Since the day you walked through those doors

The light of the sun no longer shines down
I can only feel its searing heat boiling my blood and skin
The stars and moon no longer give light in the evening
They left me with only the darkness of the night sky as company
Oct 2016 · 921
Painters
The world around me has always been gray
The buildings, the trees, the skies, and the people
Have always been duller than the blade
I used to cut myself with

Now I see the world in bright colors
Because you came in and painted it all
From corner to corner to corner to corner
And you filled in every detail
And every spot that was bleak

Darling, when the colors in your life fade,
Remember that I will always be there
To bring back all of the lost vibrance
And add a lot more
I love you so much.
Oct 2016 · 590
Alone
I used to enjoy
Reading books in my empty bedroom
While I sipped on a cup of green tea
(Or whatever tea I had in my cup)
During the weekends

Singing songs
To an audience of nobody at all
Was also a hobby of mine
(One I very much enjoyed)

The darkness in my room,
That embraced me
During moments of depression,
No longer holds me like it used to

The day you walked fully into my life
Was the day I realized I was not solitary
And it was also the day
That I stopped fancying being alone
I miss her so much.
Oct 2016 · 476
Her Favorite View
I've lived
In this city
18 years

And I never saw it
The way she saw it
Until she showed me

I never saw the lights
In the buildings
Because there were no reasons
To look at them
Until she told me
How beautiful they were
And she was right

The city
Isn't so mundane
Anymore
Oct 2016 · 667
The Word: A Conversation
I love you so much

I love you too

You have given me happiness in this dark time
And I love you so much for it

Oh darling

Words cannot even express how much I am thankful for you and how much I love you

"Love" is not an adequate enough term for everything I feel in my heart, mind, and soul for you.

If only there were a word for what we feel for each other.
My being wants to scream that word out into the cosmos,
But I do not know what the word is.

I want to write the word, over and over again all over my blank white walls until they crumble
I want to say it to you every time I kiss you, every time you hold my hand, and every time I so much as think of you.

Iñigo.

I love you with every shred of my being. Every cell in my body misses you with ever passing nanosecond.
I want you here.


We're going to go around the world to look for that word. We will look at every painting in every museum. Every sculpture in every garden. Every star in the sky. We will find this word.
And I love you with every shred of mine.
Each time I say your name or even think about it or you, I fall in love all over again

I as well

We're stronger than the days.
Stronger than time.
We can get through this.

Stronger than the toughest rock, stronger than water.
We will.
We must.


Stronger than every wind that has ever touched the earth.

I love you.

*I love you too.
Lorenzo
*Fay*
Oct 2016 · 1.0k
I Miss You: A Conversation
I miss you so much

I miss you too

I want you so badly right now

Me too, darling...

I miss holding you
And your presence
And your voice

I miss the smell of your perfume
I miss your hands
I miss running my fingers through your hair


I miss the taste of your lips
And the warmth of your skin
I miss your eyes and their depth

I miss you entirely

I miss your being around me

*Goddamn it, Lorenzo
I love you.
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