dine alone

i am well aware that on a list of dream men to sweep you off your feet carry you away to a land of dreams come true fulfill your wildest fantasies that i am most likely going to fail at every turn but if hearing rambling odes to birds trilling of where they store the […]

an oil painting of the fool

he is leather parchment stretched against a screaming skeleton and miles of veins filled with sludge like sorrow all that separates him from the yawning chasm of hell inspired fantasy is the tethered weather worn soul like the flag forgotten in the wars of time long gone the poor bastard


he watched the empty plastic bag blow around the parking lot he watched wondering was it an apt allegory for him part of him screamed no but deep down it felt correct

loathesome poet

the loathesome poet deterred beneath the trunk of the apple tree his many missives in form of rotten fruit each sickly seed another poisonous ode to wretched insignificance the many branches hang forlornly in the willing heat of summers spent penning whimpering simpering words into the void of another existential nothing

no poet

i am no poet i am a polecat, a pretender, a platypus jabbing himself in the side with poison barb, a placating penny store philosopher, a self plagarizing self aggrandizing self unaware, pompous prehensile tail of a writer but i am no poet i am no writer i am a wayward soul lost in the […]


i spiral like a nautilus ever winding inwards i flare like a match book with slight light for a short burst i sob like the lost phantom hands grip my heart i dream like a child with hope in the hopeless i smile like the end of the world with no knowledge of endings i […]

my study

i line my mind with tapestries woven of soft thread and razor wire a plethora of memories of which to pluck errant strings letting my life unravel before my very mind’s eyes hides and skins draped over childhood reminders firetrucks metal coat hangers toy cars mounds of dirt to race them to erase them bury […]


tonight i sleep with the eyes of a shark, the smile of a crocodile, and the tongue of a viper tomorrow i rise with the strength of a lion, the grace of a puma, and the speed of a cheetah not always though i dream with the self worth of a battered child, the eyes […]


until now all the angels that came into my world were no more than demons with flourescent halos making promises they never meant to fulfill false hope false prophets false profits from an ever dwindling store now there is one on my left shoulder for a moment i thought one on my right as well […]

et tu narcissus

is it possible to be a self hating narcissist to dislike the reflection yet still reflect the behaviors of one who does if you can see the signs acknowledge their existence is it still possible to throw yourself over the side of the boat in the pursuit of yourself it isn’t a question of evil […]

if he were, pt III; a lover

in his mind he composes a dissertation on the many reasons his heart dances with the mere thought of her he scribbles odes of need and desire into the electron void, hoping one will catch her eye and convince her of his value falling, falling, into the forever of her gaze, a speck of dust […]

if he were, pt II; a technician

he drives down the crowded street, music too loud, eyes darting to the phone in the cup holder, watching the directions at a snail’s pace his laptop in the bag on the floor board, his tools in the trunk, his mind racing with the need to write the thoughts that spin out of control why […]

a trip

was thinking of taking a trip. looking around for what to pack when i realized all my baggage is emotional. futility. regret. depression. and a thick coat of compassionate vacancy. luckily i have gotten so good at pushing it down all i need is a carry on. just put on a fresh set of mental […]


dust devils along the gravel road the sunshine filters into raging grit demons inner and without lashing out into the pale wan light * surreptitious serendipity saline cognition mathematically misused tenderly torn in two x and y harbor hidden doubts that z is planely oblivious * rattling bones hung from the dipping branches of the […]

calendar pt I

(january) an ex was born this month, a mistake that led to two perfectly carved diamonds frozen broken huddled in a ball ripped and torn spikes of ice ragged wounds crimson ice (february) my father was born this month, flawed and brilliant, my hero despite my own actions shortness of breath wheezing spots in my […]


strange thoughts run through my head after a week of depression and silence i get so caught up in these thoughts i tend to forget or lose sight of reality this evening i listened to an englishmen read algernon black while i read about nazis i feel like i am inside someone else’s head as […]

forever temporary

even in the freshly fallen snow i will never be able to make my mark on this world i write my signature in invisible ink all my love letters are biodegradable the only ode to forever i could pen would be with skywriting on a blustery day i am temporary in a world of granite […]

silence in the refrain

i moved from illinois to the deepest of deep south away from snow away from bars from all i knew about far from the vacant eyes of lovers gone astray wagging tongues of slander from dear friends i ran away traded one empty for another but never ever did i realize it would turn out […]

(un)titled i VI

i speak with the voice of the voiceless heard by deafened ears seen by the blind my portrait painted by quadriplegic artists in comatose reality i am a lession covered leper in the broken heart club the zero sum investment the toothless lion pariah of the pack sinking like a stone into the poisoned waters […]

dunning-kruger as relating to the fool

my poetry my search for love are actualizations of the dunning-kruger effect my lack of understanding fuels my belief that i can succeed my ignorance breeds confidence i rub lemon juice upon my flaws assuming it makes them invisible all it takes is a simple smile to make me forget the glaring failings the greatest […]

(un)titled thought LIX

he was an ink blot on the ocean a rorscharch of childhood trauma nebulous tremors anecdotal memories a butterfly with poisoned fangs murderous intent in loving eyes a plastic mask devoid of hope these things are what he was but the question he asked himself in the quiet dark what was he


if egress means to escape and regress means to become less developed then my only means of egress lately is to regress stately and fall into the patterns of the past/evolving means revolving upon some bitter happenstance and seeking a solution to this mental revolution based on luck and chance/skywriting my feelings into the black […]

(un)titled i II

the fool is the fool because he foolishly pursues the things he knows he will never have he is the poet illiterate because he doesn’t understand the things he thinks he needs the words are wrong the man behind the scenes has given up all pretenses

(un)titled thought XLIX

i used to dream of space of soaring through the cosmos now i dream of the space between dream and reality feels like the wonder has died jettison me into the cosmos i think i have dreamt enough for a lifetime of unfulfillment

(un)titled thought XLVIII

when i held you the words went silent, i tried to say the words through actions now that you’re gone i have a list of all the words i wish i would have said maybe you would have stayed we both knew my tongue was sharper than the shards of a glass i keep inside […]


we spend so much money trying to make it to dead planets while we kill the one known living one i wonder are we running towards or away from ourselves

(un)titled thought XLI

overhead the planes spew smoke in lines like absent fathers mailing presents to forgotten children banners stream behind them cash for gold golden bands forever ever begging goods for service servitude for sanctuary and i wonder am i a mirage in this desert of loneliness or are you the shimmering sands of winter’s discontent still […]

(un)titled thought XXXVII

have i become a whore to the almighty metaphor afraid to admit this life is not what it was made out to be so i make it what i wish it could be by making it something else completely


thirty pounds ago my shadow seemed more like a balloon twenty pounds ago my pants fit like they should ten pounds ago i began questioning what i was still doing now i just don’t have the money for food but i look good


it isn’t a biblical life of suffering i live i am more cocaine and unable than hero my lack of faith is a faith in itself so i will cast lots and play the humble poet crucifying myself in an effort to be less of a hassle for you


i collect the dark thoughts like raven feathers as they are born within my mind i nearly have the whole set when i do i will scatter them about my feet like a secondary shadow. then i shall alight upon my new shadow, high above the depths of this hell, and gaze down in hopes […]

(un)titled thought XXXIV

like an idiot i decided to go for a walk in the cold rain it was miserable i was miserable the whole thing was a mistake when it was over i sat staring out the window wishing it showed a different world bound to this cold earth with no tangible means of escape is a […]


if this is the movie of my life i hope a plucky young starlet shows up soon and teaches me the meaning of christmas or that the power was inside me the entire time not quite ready for the credits just yet

(un)titled thought XXXIII

this one is scribbled as i prepare coffee for the morning the coffee seems very necessary not sure about this though it will be nice to wake to the caffeinated brown these words maybe sometimes what doesn’t make sense at midnight comes clear at midday


the question he begged the court to answer was simple all of his crimes were self inflicted he was the victim by his own hand so clearly death was only fair the jury of his fears watched solemnly from the mirror no hint on their similar faces


the loneliness can kill you until you remember you are free. if i wanted to i could marry joan of arc. or marilyn monroe. i could do anything i want. i could discover a new continent. a new species of tortoise. be the first man on the moon. anything. within reason.


she asked what made me so broken makes me feel as if i could have it all and i held up my hands coated with decades of dried glue and shards of glass i can’t seem to put it back together again no matter how i try so now i just watch the light refract […]

(un)titled thought XXIX

are you real really real or did i dream you up am i real really real or an illusion in a funhouse mirror if i hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut tightly i can hear the ocean thwump tiss thwump tiss if i hold my breath and think really hard really really hard […]

(un)titled thought XXVIII

at some point in the middle of the night i woke up and wrote the word longing on a piece of paper by the bed and drew a series of hearts at least i think they are hearts without the aorta in place it is hard to tell maybe the pen was running low on […]


i need to fall in love with my own voice because i feel like a broken record. all the things i want would be better sought from within but i’m broken. so i listen to myself on repeat thinking the skip and the hiss have meaning they don’t.

(un)titled thought XXVII

if it wasn’t behind me long gone if i were to ever have more children i would name a daughter dolphin star call her my phinny star if he were a boy i would go with kraken cthulhu after cuddles i would scream release the kraken probably for the best for all parties that time […]

(un)titled thought XXVI

the neighbor’s dog barks and scratches at the door from when they leave until they return i feel the same wishing you would come knocking and relieve me of this hell i just need a collar with a bell

(un)titled thought XXV

it’s on the tip of my tongue i am fairly sure it is important but i’ll be damned if i know what it is feels like this isn’t the first time i have forgotten it so i am going to say it is it’s own damn fault for being so forgettable

(un)titled thought XXIII

it’s funny a lack of beauty can inspire poetry a surplus of beauty can quench the words as if surrounding yourself with beauty kills the desire for it luckily for me i am usually all alone


i wonder if when i reach chapter twenty and the epilogue if i will title my poetry more often than i have lately it began as a way to write about her without expressly saying they were about her her then it snowballed into everything was another (un)titled thought i would send out to the […]

(un)titled thought XX

she waved smiled and said hello clearly the look on my face spoke volumes it was half an hour later i realized who she was i felt like an asshole i am nearly positive i wasn’t alone in that assessment as bad as i am with names i am just as bad with faces

set piece

there are times the very last place i want to be is trapped in my own skin like a character in my own shitty novel i will give the author credit he really doubles down on the sadness

(un)titled thought XVII

there is a streak of bird shit on my windshield it looks like modern art two thoughts occur to me one the bird has talent two it may be sick either way i feel like my art is lacking

(un)titled thought XVI

sometimes i will write poems for first thing in the morning as you read them i have already forgotten them you start your day with my final thoughts of the night before i feel like a time traveler sending missives to future you sorry for the confusion i was a different person then or now […]

(un)titled thought XIV

i imagine my soul is an after image of a murder of crows perhaps a cauldron of bats i would prefer it be a maelstrom of salamanders or pandemonium or parrots but frankly an unkindness of ravens seems more apropos instead of a tattered flag waving surrender in the morning breeze

(un)titled thought X

no one cares this is what the voice keeps whispering deep in the bowels of my mind the acid a lurching sea of agony in my guts you deserve this i want to fight back scream tell it to shut it’s inane fucking chanting pummel it into submission just as it has done to me […]

(un)titled ode IX

they call it the jesus nut it is the one retaining pin that holds the main rotor to the mast of a helicopter it is a source of possible catastrophic failure without it everything goes down in a fiery wreck you don’t know this but you have been that to me it’s funny because jesus […]

(un)titled he IX

he is her’s completely in every way, beholden besotted, bewildered by her every thought and word docile yet ferocious, capable of equal amounts immense love and loyalty or savage rage and fury he is

autobiographical biopsy

pins and needles race down my deadened limbs anxiety acupuncture for the shattered soul massage my temples this temple unholy hell fire rains from the tolling brass bell brain stem haunted by demons named longing desire and remorse work the gordian knot out of past tense muscular dystopia hollow brittle bones echo broken hearted odes […]

(un)titled thought VI

thirty degrees in texas wind chill in the teens coffee and depression under a blanket steel gray soft and comfortable looking for a reason not to curl up and cry need an electoral college for will to go on because the popular vote says quit trying the electoral college was a way to balance out […]

(un)titled he VIII

he is tangibly intangible in contrast to viable constructs in an illusionary world radiantly irradiated by the solar rays that refract through ozone and bounce off of satellite hearts he is

(un)titled thought III

as the world crumbles down around my head and so few positives exist i cling to a dream coming true an actual book i wrote is getting published i could have self published nearly did but that wasn’t my dream my dream was a publisher recognizing my works and they did a real publishing house […]


i read it isn’t about weathering the storm it is learning to dance in the rain so i strapped on my best rusty suit of armor let the lightning strike as it is wont to do stripped down to my boxers frolicked in the blizzard chased tornados with nothing but the best intentions i stared […]

van gogh’s other ear

i will never make truly beautiful art women won’t sigh their hearts won’t skip a beat their breath catch in their throats at my words i’ll never be matisse rembrandt whitman braugtigan neruda or bukowski my name will never be uttered in hushed tones but still i write destined to be forgotten van gogh’s other […]


if you dig through the ashes sift ever deeper into the embers of who i used to be it is less than you would hope or imagine mix my blood my sweat my remaining tears into the ash paint a masterpiece to remember me by then let the ash blow into the wind i was […]

(un)titled he VII

he is awkwardly pantomiming the motions of day to day existence with no comprehension of living and existing tap-dancing on landmines in a foolhardy attempt to feel anything even if it is just pain he is


i shall not be moved my roots extend too deeply the tides shall not sweep me away but i shall not be moved my love for you shifts the soil beneath leaves my footing unsure but i shall not be moved you’ll have to come to me my insides have grown hooks and barbs blackened […]

i am

was it a dream this acrimonious excuse tantrums in tandem i am the eye of the storm no more shall feeble hands grasp at sullen whispers i am daybreak these haunting glimpses into eternity’s dead eyed stare come hither and taste the blood from thine own copious lies for i am your end for i […]

( )

lately everything has been (un)titled (un)able to string more than a few words toget(her) my center was (mis)taken equilibrium (mis)taken for granted everything not nailed down (mis)taken for scrap my he(art) the part of me tarnished and drained (un)able to force out love’s standard refrain my soul the p(art) of me put up for sell […]

(un)titled he VI

he is wandering in a perpetual state of confusion, hearing voices whispering all the things he has failed flying to the peaks of mania with a million ideas and falling to the depths of depression while abandoning them he is

(un)titled he V

he is lost in a forest of disillusionment where every fallen leaf is a dream still born at his feet searching for the her that exists in his heart and mind not knowing she is poisoned by the places she inhabits he is

inner working

my skin is a road map through pain marked by scars that slowly trace their way through a lifetime of lessons forgotten my blood is kerosene rendered inert under pressure every breath a catalyst designed and intended to ignite my soul an oil spattered stain glass portrait of stained shards pointedly turned within grating with […]

a lot bloodier

i’ve noticed when the words fall out in the novel the poetry seems more concise i guess i still vomit all over the page but my verbosity my natural tendency seems sharper those days maybe i am just sick of reading myself too much time in my own head seems unhealthy but being in someone […]

there are days

i feel as useful as a rowboat in the desert there are others when i feel perfectly content to be utterly useless i just cannot tell the difference some days between the two i tend to write on either let’s call it a draw


the crowd gasps applauds but the magician knows the truth behind the tricks sees through the illusion cannot recall the feeling of being amazed jaded in the knowledge so much he has forgotten how to live in the moment and just let go


you’ve said it all no need to mutter more words into the ceaselessly uncaring void now look at you talking to yourself but if you’re honest that is what this always was

(un)titled he III

he is trying his damnedest yet always snatching defeat from the snapping jaws of victory a lightning rod standing in the center of the storm drawing every strike to him to protect those he loves he is

(un)titled he II

he is the sum of all his failures molded into a broken caricature of a functional being a panoramic display of anxiety and misplaced anger blurred into a malaise of discomfort he is

rubber duckies

i stay up all night unable to sleep then i use the sun as my pillow miss out on the whole day what in the world happened to me it used to be drinks and drugs and ladies and fun now it is a bunch of melted rubber duckies oozing down the drain

when i grow up i’m going to be inconsequential

some days the words flow like a winding river coming easily a feeling of serenity as they pour into the world fully formed other times it is like ripping pieces off my soul poetry flows it is just an extension of the emotions already bubbling under the surface an outlet for the overwhelming feelings that […]

simply complicated

he was the product of an inaccurate conception, immaculate in the sheer accidental nature of his being are there mistakes in this chaos inherent in every atom, or byproducts of grand design flaws residual remnants of primordial ooze that seeps from his every pore born in the footsteps of giants and left to flounder in […]

empty shoe boxes, empty promises

how many pairs of shoes have been worn to nothing in my constant pursuit of escapism buy them by the dozen mastered the art of changing mid step nothing better than fresh kicks before being kicked to the curb vans and doc’s left on the side of the road like so many lost chances follow […]

rain on the windshield

this tenuous blob of sorrow hangs from the back of his throat like a secondary uvula wretched fool wallowing in a pool of his own traffic jammed insidiousness the black streaks down his face mirror the immaculate filthiness of his tattered soul he is playing with fire yet fearing the dark of his own troubled […]