Born in the fires of freedom
our founding fathers liberty.
Betrayed by Washington D.C.
burned to death in treachery.

I was married and then not. ****.
  Vows don't demand beheading anymore.
  We earnestly married in our own farce.
  We drowned in my guilt and moved on.
  I was in wilderness for 40 days and nights.
  You called crying when Pepper got hit by a car
  and died. I came to your dorm room and we
  drank beers and got naked and ****** away
  our naivete. I never saw you again.
  I went to Boston for my next chapter.

I used to look for tomorrows
        now I just lament the sorrows.
        There's emptiness I never fill,
        always been a troubled thrill.
        It's a steep price for a ticket
        to a ride that lasts a minute.
        The line is long but moves fast.
        Nothings ever meant to last.
        We never drown in the shallows.
        We always dance in the gallows.

The New Yorker is a magazine that's been around for a long time and has featured poetry and stories and excellent cartoons over the years. I submit poems and buy lottery tickets on the same day. They say you'll get a rejection in about 6 months but I'm coming up on 9 months and honestly just wish they'd reject the whole batch at one time so I can start a new batch. It's like fishing in a toilet. You need to be famous to get printed. Be well!

Just a note to say I'm sorry.
Please let it go don't worry.
Everything will end up well.
Kiss Kiss from eternal hell.

I wish I could silence Death's roar
constantly rumbling at my door
since the day I was born again
louder than ever my original sin.

I eat my own young
and wives unsung.
I'll meet my maker
Daddy undertaker.