i'm not interested

in living anymore

i don't want to die
living just doesn’t hold much interest for me

i don't feel good

i don't feel happy
only tired

tired tired
 always tired
i live in a perpetual nothingness

i can never find words
they lodge in the back of my throat and spiral out flat

may as well cut my vocal chords out
and replace them with yarn
maybe i’ll be able to string sentences together then

i’m buried in layers of ink and skin
they allow me to close my eyes and fall away
into my own personal oblivion

where it's dark and jazzy elevator music plays in the background
and there’s no sharp pings under numb detachment

there's a different breed of darkness to my oblivion
it's soft and shadowy
rippling over all my anxieties like a velvet tide
light shines in dusty shafts from no set direction
it doesn't illuminate anything
it’s nicer that way

i forgot what happiness feels like
not this halfway happiness that’s induced by comfort food and fuzzy blankets
but real happiness
that comes from deep inside of your being and spirals and glows

this is just a long complaint

hem hem

observation
about me

my life

is it really mine?

i feel so detached from it

i spend more time in dreams than i do in it
sweeping castles of words and swing sets that swing themselves


can i just leave?
fade away
into my oblivion
the one with the jazz music and the infinite velvet walls
i've come pretty close
may as well go all the way

i'm an inadequate mess of negativity
i can't function quite right anymore
unfunny angry pathetic boring
i'm me
and i don't hate me
hate is a strong word
i'm just tired
a slowly graying towel
long used and recently wrung-out
hung up to dry
dripping mediocracy onto a standard tile floor

ha

i'll show myself out

One size never fits all
She hates when I suit her perfectly
And make her feel regular

If I don't make her feel special or unique she doesn't feel oblique
She hates when things are even
Even when she's a believer

She's acknowledges that I'm a great guy
She says that she know I have good intentions
And that I am careful
And cheerful
Which makes her fearful
And even more tearful

She is more comfortable if the fit is snug or skinny
Boot or loose

Just right do not compliment her curvaceous past experiences

She said that in past experiments
She was always wrong when she thought a guy was just right

So now she like them to come scuffed, cut-up, dingy and stained

The defects don't allow their incapabilities to turn into pain

They are now ruined from the time she run into them in the isle, so when they happen to be foul she just wince with a owww
"If I flood her with love she's bound to drown"

She once told me that I was "too good to be true"
She stated how she feels "that if I feel too good about something that's a bad sign"

And I just feel that I came into her life at a bad time
If she would have been tried me on she would still be comfortable
Me and her
...
Her favorite pair

Now she stay with bags in her hands as if she have eight legs
A pair for any day and any way that she feels

I left the rack, but she didn't remove my tag, then she kept the receipt to return me back
...
My kind is that neat pile
My kind is out of style

I couldn’t define it.
Words tricked from my lips
A babbling brook of incoherence
Grasping for phrases, attempting to capture
Something so perfectly intangible.

I couldn’t build walls around it
Hold onto and confine it
With explanations and reasoning
Boundaries of sanity, a cushion of protection

I just couldn't find a way
To nestle it away safely
Within the recesses of my soul
Amongst the other “boxes” I’ve created
To compartmentalize life.

I've been sitting here thinking
of all the things gone wrong.
All those years spent drinking,
so many chances gone.
The roller coaster ride of life
never seems to stop.
No time for healing
and no way to get off.

the salty beads of sweat,

that sweet smell of fading lust,

and the only thing keeping me from holding on forever.

that sultry look in your eye when i returned you to dust

and the feel of your lips on the nape of my neck;

because you were the one that kept me together.

those are the things i hold close to my chest.

they are pieces of loves that i hadnt really felt,

of roads i had never dreamt of being taken,


and there are no more words left

only pulsing tokens…

Shallow breathing along with
lazy dew between your lids.
Finger tips leading me between
blue flowers, bones and sheep.
Barley open,
can you see me?
Late laundry deducted time from slumber.
Craving only to lay down
and match my breath with your heartbeat.
To be secure in your exhales of morning rest melody.
Tears and tobacco followed soon after,
medicine for leaving.
Pain of wanting to swallow my pride along with yours.
But fleeing from wrong feelings,
only made it worse.
Tumble dry in the salty sea breeze that
follows the silk shower of disappointment.
Do you see me through your slumber drenched eyes,
gassed up and driving in the direction of failure fears?