Yellow
Tastes
Fields
Of gray
Shallow
Puddles
Rainbow stain
Burning
Scent
Stinging
Smoke
A cloud
A sign
A single spoke
Spinning
Wheels
Cogs
Enmeshed
Work together
Drive the rest

My eyes are dilated
so I turn my back to the beam of light
shining so ******* bright
through my windows at night,

although a tad belated
I now know the shape of regret
is outlined on the curtain set
in a shadowy Silhouette.

Ever have something to say,
something that you REALLY want to say?
Something you're dying to express?

But you just... let it go.
Because you know
you'll never be able
to get it all out.

Now imagine that feeling
for every conversation,
every sentence,
in your entire life.


God I want a whiskey.

She used three
prescription placebo pills
to sweeten her coffee.

I love that blindside you to be a part for me to know that I am not sure if I can find it in you and what you used to do that **** and I will be in the morning to see up to date with my **** between you and me or and I if you are looking for a bit of a headache and a few days to ago I and I was wearing a black shirt with you for two days now but I have to get my **** on your way to your office to help me out with the braid wants me back with a new job.

Give me the frigid,
bless me with
sacred cold.

So that you may curl up against me,
and I'll not be
too hot to hold.

A far reach
Top of the cabinet
Climbing on the countertop

A solemn
Solitary box of tea
Peeks out at me

Violent water
Effervescent and sweet
Hot beyond belief

A scalded palette
A grimacing smile
Through sensitive teeth

Breathe in deep
Hesitate before
Blowing off the steam

A laugh
A sip
A day slipped past me

Sa tur day ay ay ay ay ay ayyyyy,
come,
stay.
I'd work ev-ree dayyyyy,
ay ay.

Sa tur day ay ay ay ay ayyyyy,
let's,
play.
Brains are made of clayyyyy,
ay ay.

I've been saving up, baby,
for all the gasolene in the world.
I'll buy up every gallon, only to burn alive
whilst trying my damnedest to drive to you.

I've been saving up, dear,
to buy a brand new aeroplane.
You deserve so much more than just a flight, I want
to live with you in the skies, only... I don't know how to fly.

I've been saving up, babes,
and I'm catching the next train.
I'll buy a ticket now and pack right after I write
this poem, but ****! I already missed the ******* thing!

I've been saving up, love,
but I should just give it all to you.
Because everyone ******* knows
that I just don't know what to do.

yeahyeaheyahayehaeyaheayehaeyaheay

I like violins
but it depends
on whether
or not they
end my
sentences.

Life paints it's story
in broad brush strokes of light.
Sun rays, incandescent bulbs.
Fire.
I know colors
are just light.

While I slept,
you went away,
and brilliant light
filled the place
where you used
to play.

Being an adult means lying in the sun
until you're hot enough to take a dip.

It means skimming the water
with fine-mesh nets
to collect the floating dead bugs.

Being an adult means thinking about cancer,
and worrying over every sunburn-forged mole.

It means that the paranoia
we all like to call love
haunts your thoughts accordingly.

Being an adult means your two primary concerns on a summer day
are children could potentially drown and consistent doses of SPF30.

It means that you forsake
your own thoughts
for the sake of sparing theirs.

I take light for granted
have you ever seen darkness
so thick and dense
it heightens my hearing
and the taste of pennies shows,
strengthening paranoid roots
previously growing
down my spine
slowly I ***** to find
the thread of sanity
hanging from my mind
if you could flick the switch
and please turn the dark off
it's a pity for the blind.

The demon is singing again
and I find myself humming along.
It's the same rhythm it's always been,
it's the same familiar song.

The demon is singing again,
swimming in the fugue.
Amber, green and clear glass,
drowning it in blues.

You and I both know
that I'm all for show.

Looking at you, I've missed my train of thought.
Forever blue, earth in a flowerpot.

When she comes
she brings the snow with her,
circling her white hair
in spirals and waves.
When she comes
the sun shines brighter
even behind the clouds
that veil the horizon.
When she comes
I'm always there,
ready to fall in love
over and over again.

Never wanted to cook before.
Never wanted to cook.

I wanna let it steep.
Dipping into your hot water,
I find that primal sounds
impulsively pour through my teeth.

I'm turgid with palpable greed.
I'll take anything you're offering me,
I'll take everything I want
and everything that I need.

I wanna let it steep.
Tongues and strong teas,
I can't stand it too weak.
Two lumps and a splash of cream.

Stirred up in tangible relief,
tangled and twisted colors
all racing and swirling together
in-between my sheets.

One day you'll lie down tired,
albeit thoroughly satisfied.

Yet you'll still remember
those times.

I take my seat upon the couch
and hit the power buttons.

Blue-hued light washes over me
in beautiful cascading ignorance.

I mindlessly flip through channels,
briefly stopping to look at cars.
And cheeseburgers.
And movies.
And Bowflex.
And lawyers.
And jewelry.
And petfood.
And starving african children.
And starving animals.
And cellphones.
And service providers.
And medications.
And disorders.
And maladys.
And sales.
And beautiful people modeling clothing I will never wear.
And stores I won't ever shop at.
And lives I'll never live,
only dream of.

Because commercials are now more entertaining
and more relatable than the shows between them.

The air doesn't smell any different
on this cold October day.
So life goes on,
just feeling more
like a gift now
than it did before.

Bro, no lie
I've taken like
six or seven
***** today.

*******, not good ones either.
Like a hot faucet,
I sit down and
goosebumps ripple
up and down my arms
as the shivers hit me
and my body just...

Like a
hot faucet bro,
like I'm vomiting
out of my *******.


Where do you think I'm writing this from?
You know it,
my porcelain throne.

For the mouth watering food
For the kiss when I walk in
For the earnest determination
In everything you do

For the way you make me laugh
For your educated, diverse opinions
For the unrelenting drive
That keeps you learning

For your gratuitous sensuality
For your Sunday morning sexiness
For each and every day that
You share your life with me

For your love

Ah,
uncaptured thoughts.

There's seldom a prospect more frightening to me,
thus I don a notebook & glorious pen
as my sword and shield
with which I'll tirelessly defend
my ever wavering memory.

For being comprised of 60% water
bodies sure do burn real nice.

spit the rhythms, I'm trying to get this **** right
like who are you? some biddy I just met last night?
yeah yesterday feels like almost 4 years ago
and I'm doubtful in my ability to just let this all go.

oh, you already know what it's all about?
then I'll listen close dear, you ain't gotta shout.
cut the yelling out but now your screaming blame at me
and all you used to scream is my ******* name, you'll see.

Being that I was raised Catholic
and knowing what I know now,
if Heaven truly is a real place then
they must **** a lot of kids up there.

Upon entering the foyer he was struck
with a foreboding sense of dawning comprehension.
The light switch felt significant under his finger tips and the
illuminated room made his dilated irises contract
with such force that he shut his eyelids against the
sudden death of darkness before him.

When his eyes adjusted to the harsh electric lights
he recognized the reason for the brief feeling of
understanding that grabbed him when he first walked in,
for in the far corner, adjacent to the spiral staircase, sat
the slumped-over body of his father in a winged-back chair.

The pocketknife protruding from it's neck bore the initials
'JSW' in small white lettering on the plastic handle, and the pool
of blood beneath the cadaver matched perfectly the color of the skin
on his hands. Like the skin of his ex-lovers lips.

Then he remembered what day it was, and how the serendipity of
the situation just tasted so very sweet upon his mind's tongue.

Happy Father's Day!

When do we know when
to do as we're told and
when to find it out on our own?

Is there a line?
For I can't seem to find
**distinction.

I loved the schoolbus.
I had friends in the front,
and friends in the back.

But sometimes when I climbed those steps,
I didn't want to have friends.
I didn't want to smile,
I didn't want to laugh.
I just wanted it quiet so
I sat in the middle sometimes,
right in between everything.

And that's where I met Vanessa,
right there in the middle of the bus.

She sat alone every day,
with her eyes always
cast upon the window
and what lay beyond it.
I noticed her right away
even though she was older
and a few grades ahead of me.

See she was seventeen, and much more
experienced than the fourteen-year-old me.

But I approached her anyway,
working my way into the seat
adjacent to her.
Eventually working up the *****
to actually say something.

We talked for a few weeks,
and she humored me.

Even when I went to sit in the back
and was loud and obnoxious, I would
catch her glancing.
She would look and sneer at me.

So when the day finally came
that she said my name
and told me to sit in her seat,
I dropped everything
and joined her.

Want to see something?
she asked, without so
much as a blink.

Sure, I mean, of course.
I replied, trying my best
not to sound too eager

She kept her eyes on me as
her hands lifted up her skirt,
one inch at a time showing me
more and more of her.

My eyes were locked on
her crotch, I could almost hear
the shutter clicking as I documented
the whole thing mentally.

But she stopped when she revealed
a crescent-shaped scab on her upper thigh.

It was shot through with red lines,
swollen and inflamed and
I swear that it moved and pulsed
right before my eyes.

I couldn't look away
as she picked the scab off
in one big piece, and I saw
a white caterpillar unfold from
her wound in a squelching
symphony of sickening sound
and roll it's way down
her leg, covered with blood and
leaving ****-y streaks.

Then it hit the seat and I gasped
when she grabbed it before it could
crawl away and shoved the
macabre thing into her mouth,
still crawling,
killing it with her teeth.



I never sat with Vanessa again.

Been gazing.
Looking.
Peering at things
I aught not to.

I see it clearly,
the sky through
a closed window.

I no longer just leer
at my faint reflection
in the glass.

I been looking,
gazing at you
for far too long.

Been taking down my mirrors.
Been changing up my song.