People are either obscenely early,
or baffling late.
Yes, they tend to forget.
About you.

Bury your sorrows in debt.
Be alone, usually.
Your words spill out like
a pornographic goremance.
You are redder than blood,
and hotter than breath.

Smoking outside and in,
we crafted a shelter out of
bare bones and sad songs.
Sadly they couldn't cut
sharply or hardly enough
to get through every load
of *******.

Some days I don't have
fantasies about suicide.

I don't have a war in my mind,
I got a pack of wolves begging
for the next fix,
and sometimes it's
a mess of aspirin
and sometimes it's
a bowl of cereal.

**** yeah,
ain't that mediocre sublime?
Can't you feel where it burns,
but stays the same... just...
Warmer?

A bleeding hearts campaign;
Spend most nights
vacant.

Wishing you were a smoker,
a harder, speedier drinker;
an alcoholic like your father
&
a ****** like your mother was.

Wearing sunglasses,
staring at the ceiling.
Coast, and
you’re stone sober.

Spend most nights,
laughing it off,
*******,
and you’re already
in debt.

I had a nightmare I was murdering
clones of political prisoners
with a ****** rifle from afar,
in some modest white trash
suburban house.
One got away wounded.
I thought about how
****** up everything was
and realized I was in a dream,
and started walking around
confidently I was free,
but then paranoid.

I tried stopping a few cars to
ask if I was okay, but they
just passed me by.
I walked up to a woman
getting into a car and asked,
"Am I in a dream or just dizzy?"
She replied,
"You're just dizzy,
do you need me to get a doctor?"

"No, I'm gonna be just fine."

This mountain is tallest when someone is on top.
Tucked an olive branch in a fire,
threw my heart in a file and
I don't feel bad at all.

I keep aspiring to **** myself,
and I can only tell a handful of people.
I can only tell people who don't care.
I can only hope nobody minds.
I can only wish and wish.
I'm so sick of violent people,
and violet eyes and knuckles.

I don't feel bad at all.
I am a final boss and a bad guy,
and a villain and an entrepreneur
in the science of self-exploitation
for nobody but nobody I like.
I'm sick of hearing white girls sing,
and yell, and talk in high voices.

I'm sick of chains and strings and people.
I'm sick of songs that say nothing.
I need revenge, but mercy so selfish,
so counter intuitive.
Must feel like common sense.

...But you don't have a grave,
do you?
You own,
***** ****,
bugs in your clothes,
holes in your shoes.

[Crept in through a window;
He holds her close and says,
"You're everything I ever wanted."
She falls asleep, smiling.
He continues,
"But I'm also still looking."
Left through the back door.]

Left a note that said,
"Couldn't take the pressure."
Looked up the most painless way
to **** oneself on google.
Thirty minutes later,
added Medical Crisis Hotline
to my contacts.

You are a ghost, or
a spectral anomaly;
Appearing out of thin air,
while I am 2 hands and 7 minutes
into a video game. You are
a haunt, with no teeth,
no fear, no presence.
Not particularly interesting.
You absolved yourself from
conversation with,
"Have fun with your video game",
to which I replied, "you too",
mistakenly.