i'm in a good mood now
so my hopes of writing a poem
tonight are dashed

a more foolish me would
change his definition of happiness
to trick himself into loving you

we died just after the start of march
and the sun was rising
spring was born

i found beauty in loss
i'm still in your heart and
you in mine

i'm ashamed to say i feel weakness
when you cross my mind but i
wouldn't have it any other way

Empty bodies
Trading masks
To wear on certain occasions
While beings form
From the murky waters
Of truth
Into systematic
Artificial
Operative
Efficient
Structures of lies
That keep kindred souls
Trapped behind
A window pane
Watching the world collapse
In 2D motion
Only to find freedom
Within the mind.

Crush me,
Add another blow,
What will one little hit do,
To an already drowned soul.

Choke me,
Smother my bones,
What good is the body,
With an ashen soul.

I could never write a poem as beautiful as you are to me
Nothing man-made
Nothing in nature
Nothing can ever be

And if the universe should have an end
Maybe I'll find you there
I'm too numb to feel this pain
I'm too young to feel this hopeless

So I sit with my back to the wall and my head in my hands
Knowing about nightfall
Thunderstorms
And black holes
I could never write a happy ending

i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.