“Hey, I heard about your accident. I’m here for you if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll keep that in mind. By the way I heard about your breakup and I’m here to talk if you need to as well.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

...

...

...

I want you to course through my veins
but you shoot into my muscles
bringing subcutaneous agony
not getting me high the way you should
a dagger twists inside
missing the mark—maiming me
leaving a hole in my arms
I must live with the inflammation
but life without you makes me sick
so I find a new guy
who has his own needles.

Two lanes
two lines
two trains
two times
two blunts
too much
to lunch
too rough.

Two taxis
two cabs
two backseats
to dad
to dinner
two grinners
too inner.

Two hours
too long
to cower
to home
to something
too nothing.

You asked me how I was doing
my answer was good enough
so you left well enough alone
until I didn’t feel enough home.

I post my death on the internet
and am told it’s good e-*****
but good enough ain’t good enough
so I’m not good enough.

How much is enough?
It’s never enough
my coward’s reach is too short
so good enough is my only export.

They called my bluff
of good enough
so I wear these cuffs
of good enough.

Bitten by rejection, I became a wereman
I'm a dog by day, beaten if I don't fetch
but at night I become a man, and enter the world of men
I become a human, or at least a humanoid
I'm likened to a lycan, yet I stand on my own two paws
searching for a fairy's tail to hammer in my coffin's nails
the sphincter of the sphinx is the ***** of my cat
my clothes tear off as my body starts changing
howling at the moon as my elongated limbs bloom
salivating over the feast of flesh, hackles raised
shackled slave of the bite, I tried to stave off the night
with a witch's brew but my twitches grew
at the sight of a full moon reflecting off the eyes of a lamb
reminding me I'm a man who needs to eat
or maybe I'm just a dog in heat.

I open my eyes to close them
I close my eyes to open them
to see identity.
The mirror distorts appearance
I see what I see—not what I am,
an amnesiac that remembers everything,
yet knows nothing. Light fades into the shadows
evidence of invisible particles suspended in air.
The white lines on the black road
leave black lines on my white face.

Tales from the black addendum
demons live, God sends them
we're their descendants.
Dented faces provide rented places for descendant stasis.
Nature finds the cracks—erosion does the rest
mountains crumble—cliffs form
the mountainside dissolves into the ocean
adding mud to the ocean floor—insulation for the Earth's core.

I want to be part of society
I want to have proper propriety
but I feel woeful worry inside of me
in the form of anxiety.

What will they think?
What will they say?
Would they even blink
if I told them I’m gay?
Or would peace be betrayed
by the revelation I made?

My thoughts are hurried
because I’m too worried
they come in a flurry
vision obscuring.

It’s a slow grind
in this snowblind
I don’t know why
I can’t grow wise
so my nose finds
blow lines
until I glow like
a strobe light
turning on and off
like Jared Goff
because apparent cops
who share my slop
scare to stop
my stairs to the top
so I get impaired and flop.

The only person not allowing me
to share my personality
is myself acting cowardly
fearing they’ll respond sourly
I want someone to empower me
so I can conquer this task towering.

Riots should be considered natural disasters
precipitated by injustice
especially when it’s police brutality
but much like global warming
America will ignore the natural disasters
for right wing interests
watching the storms sweep through routinely
pretending not to understand
until we’re swallowed by the maelstrom we’ve created.

I’m worried for my country and myself.
Microscopic maybes master my maze.
The undead use the unborn to fight the living.
If I were a zygote would they love me more?
I guess what could be is more appealing than what is.

We are afraid of new information
for fear of what lies in the unknown
fundamentally
this is expressed through horror movies.
New information is a chance to scare the audience
utilization manifests in
turning on the headlights
(What is in front of us)
or closing the medicine cabinet
(What is behind us).
Some people tell themselves what they’re seeing isn’t real
others use comedy to cope
with the new information acquired
and the horrors that lie within it.

Most people understand fighting is immoral and shameful
(plenty of exceptions obviously).
People also understand there are situations where one must fight
(to maintain agency).
So the idea is to avoid those kinds of situations
(to circumvent compromising morality).

You went too far
You went too fast
you went too hard
it couldn’t last
and now you’ve passed
the memory that lasts
is how you crashed.

Now you’ve gone out of sight and out of mind
due to the odds-based blight that plagues mankind
and I wonder if it’s my right to question why
you were the type to lose your time.

The odds were considerably low
but they weren’t just for show
and took 100% of your life
we cried 100% of the night
but then the sun came up
and we went out to test our luck.

I close my eyes to find you there
and find despair
I open my eyes to see you’re not there
and find despair.

My house is an empty home
made of stone
without you in it
I become a cynic.

I look
and see nothing
so I shook
any feeling of loving.

Life is pain
life is sorrow
so I watch the rain
and pray for tomorrow.