i tried to shoot for the moon
But gravity reared its head
my dreams just couldn't escape orbit
now my dreams are dead

"I'm not afraid to die," I said
If I was sure money wouldn't be wasted on a funeral
I'd **** myself anyway

Inconsequential, any of us
Why does it even matter, when all we are is dust?
"You inject meaning, and that's how you live how you do"
I reject that completely, what I've done is just not done.

"Write about me," she said.

No. How could I?
I felt nothing.
I was nothing.
Putty in her hands,
just another boy in her bed.
Another notch on her bedpost
Another night she wanted head.

With all honesty, I was only
here because I wanted the same:
to dive in quick and after,
still feel sane.

"Stop writing about me," you said.

No.

I vaguely remember us on the edge of a canal
Fists clenched, holding the night sky
Standing, screaming that we were alive
Back then it wouldn't have been a lie

And on barstools as well, faint guitar riffs
Echoing through smoky pub air
Heads lain flat on damp tables
Wish we'd known then the difference between having purpose and simply breathing

Also our beds, with the lights dimmed
Asking questions neither could answer
Just two ignorant kids waxing philosophy
Just two ignorant kids already forgetting how to live

She felt like fire,
leaving scorch marks across
the inside of my chest

It burned everything I was
and I was left like residue
from a catalyst used wrong

I felt like ice
running from her flames
melting under her smoldering skin
I felt fluid and chill
but I was burning up too fast and


I feel like air.
Quiet.

2 am and I can't sleep
With you racing through my mind
How could I?
Leaving tracks and bitterness on my insides
The scent of flowers and putrid feelings linger on
Permeating the air around my soul
You left your imprints, you ******
They burned through and left a hole
I can't shake you out
I breathed you in too deeply
Poisoned my very being
Now I feel so ******* lonely

hello barbie
r u there?
It's been 4 years and 57 girls
But i dreamt of you two nights in a row
And this is why i tweak most nights
If i can't dream it's easier to believe that i'm doing just fine
Do people have somewhere to go when they're alone?
I feel like all i can do is roam and roam and roam
I'm privy to the big secret
That nothing really matters
And we ascribe as much importance to where we deem it most fitting
And i cannot for the life of me figure out after everything
Why it still stings

they say you lose the voice first
the way she sounds, the way her laugh makes your toes curl
i think you lose everything in a night
when you stay up late wondering how the two of you died

you asked once why everything
i write sounds like regret - and i
remember lying through my teeth, wanting so ******* hard to sound like as if i’ve never given a **** in my life and wasn’t about to start.

i mean, it worked with everyone else, didn’t it?

i was fuming. how dare you? deconstruct
me like that, and for that i mustered all of my boyish pride - and pretended I never knew you.

and that is why everything i
write sounds like regret.

it could be said that i dwell in the past more than is healthy - it’s just that there are just certain nows that I live in infinitely, its shelf life in the murky recesses of my mind extended involuntarily whenever i slip into the haze between lucidity and oblivion.

the nows aren’t good or bad - but that’s par for the course, i haven’t seen anything but greys in the last decade

the tight ball of nerves sitting in my gut
has not left
only you, everything else is white noise

its maddening.
trying to force the words, any words! out.
god ive never met anyone more deserving.
even still, anything i write? i doubt.

i hate seeing my reflection - it is a
stark reminder that i am here.
the call of the void is always fleeting - how easy would it be to step in front of a bus?
i struggle with coming to terms with this - even suicide is not an option, even dead i wouldn’t want the responsibility of my own death on me.

I felt like a thief, undeserving of the air around me
Every breath stolen from the lungs of someone less unworthy
Even then I couldn't stop breaking hearts
Despoiling souls, taking them apart
It filled me with completion
Causing another's destruction
Reducing them to shattered nerves,
Trembling hands and ****** curves
It made me feel significant, that I existed
Just only with the toll of self-hate

I ***** stanzas -
I spew literary clutter
My poetry is aimless
The words all muddled

I write unsharpened
The point pressed pointless
A fire smoldering with no tinder
The universe questions its existence

I remember when we sat on a park bench at night, and your head lay nestled in the hollow of my shoulder.
My arm circled around your waist, reaching to meet its twin’s wrist.
I looked at you, and you blushed, and told me that staring was rude.
I spelled ‘M-I-N-E’ in the space between your collarbones and your brow with kisses, and breathed words I never dared to speak.
You were flowers in May, the sea spray in July, and the cold wind of November.
I was obsessed, and I knew I would never be good enough.
Two days later, we broke up.
Every kiss since then has left me lonelier.