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 […]

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

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

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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 […]

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

i am no longer lying in the fires of youth i am cooling in the hearth of dying dreamscapes another ember gone ashen with the rest of yesterday’s castoffs

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

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

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

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 […]

could this be a really vivid dream i will wake up none of this is real all of my mistakes didn’t happen i will miss you but it isn’t like you’ll notice i am gone i bet when i wake up i will still love you

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

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 spent so long staring into the night when the sky brightened morning felt like the end of the world

she told me it would get better someday we both know she lies but i appreciate it all the same

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

men are monsters but easy to figure out sex and attention occasionally woman are scarier they are lovely smell good sweet nurturing and seek to burrow into your heart and lay eggs

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 […]

one day i hope to see myself as you see me on that day the lower case i will become nothing more than stylistic conceit one day perhaps

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

i sometimes wonder if this is all an elaborate ruse a mirage then i wonder why anyone would go through the effort to build such a vacant world just for me to suffer alone in

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

if you had told him when he was fifteen that one day it would be like this he would have shaken his head and walked away if you told him tomorrow it would get better he’d just look away in sorrow

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 […]

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

he writes more about writing than he writes about life because he can lose himself in the words when he writes about life he just realizes all that he lost

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

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 […]

he spent so long drained the emotions he ignored crystalized inside of him and inside this cave filled with dazzling jewels a light shines only for her

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

it is a brazen disregard of common sense fortunately i excel at those

when i picture her lips on another man i have an overwhelming urge to scream maybe because i cannot imagine my lips on anyone but her

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 […]

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 […]

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

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 […]

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 […]

curse you silence you contemptible harlot curse you longing you damnedable fool curses on curses on curses on and on the fool cries in silence

feeling like a tortoise curled up in my shell but surrounded by water confused with a turtle misunderstood and lost not where i belong at all

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

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 […]

my phone got turned off yet it rings just as much it would be funny if it wasn’t so sad

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

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

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

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 […]

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 […]

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

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