Request

I’m asking to be numb from some things,
and that aint too bad if you’ve seen and known the things
I have.

The things that keep me up late at night
and make me want to forget,
the things that consume my mind and make me
sweat.

Broken down like a car without a mechanic
or engine oil
I can hear my mind pitifully sqeaking along in protest.
But there is no rest.

There is no rest from the mind that goes
on and on and on and on.

Until I learn to make it stop.
And be here.
Now.

I’m asking to be numb from some things,
and that ain’t too bad,
it ain’t much to ask.
I’ve seen and known some things,
some things I wouldn’t pass down.

Ignorance is bliss, miss.
There is a spot of chocolate on your lips
and I watch as it drips
onto your blouse.

Silently draining color from your face
I disgrace myself and my mind
all over,
every time.

Don’t tell me you don’t remember this feeling,
because it’s the one that made you this way.

Pinprick I Am

Let me commemorate the lines I’ve traced,

from birth to the time where I fell from grace.

Is this not Aphrodite’s womb?

Does nothing more beautiful leave the room?

Tall edifices demonstrate our prowess

as we quickly consume all we possess.

Tell me darling, where has the day gone?

Or is the night just grown quickly too young?

Delivering color blind spots

on a technicolor sky

I look out the window

and see flocks of butterflies.

I’ve come so far and

I’m able to see the moon

from my place here amongst the stars,

Someone else will get here soon.

I am a pinprick in this black skin of the

universe,

silent and watching as my fate

spins out in verses,

verses too faint to be heard

in the vacuum of this cattle herd.

November Thirtieth, Ten-Thirty in the Morning

I think today I’ll put my troubles in the past,
start new and do away with the old,
forget about the people who don’t deserve to see my soul,
because I’ve been taught the hard way,
slaps on the wrist and on my face.
Don’t tell me you didn’t know
or that the timing didn’t flow,
because you’ve had lots of signs
to follow on the street we both go.

A Hope, A Dream

I am obviously not in the right place,

or I would be found in your face,

the location whose coordinates are subordinate,

where my heart isn’t cold yet.

But instead I know I’ll be spending my time

writing about that view

because if there was a way to get there

it’d be true,

and there we’d be;

me and you.

I’ve taken time to correct my station,

though you look back and I see the frustration,

I’m walking talent with you as my road to greatness,

sometimes you just gotta have the right sickness.

I been trying to sip life slowly

to be more lowly

to be humble and all

but y’all are callin in the dark

and the lights are turned off

-stark.

Can’t Bring Me Up

I’m through writing fairy tales for some broken-hearted piece of myself,
lost in some garbage-dumpster abyss in a world with no sympathy.
Silhouetted across open parks and picnic benches
and strewn across the floor like a plethora of generic prescription pills
there’s something more to be wanted from this life,
something more than to be a leech sucking on a nurturing machine,
spent at the end of your life with nothing more to celebrate
but nights of inebriated debauchery.
The future is nothing more
than the brightest light of stars
that haven’t reached us yet.
As we sit outside in the cold dark,
vapor pouring from our chapped lips,
we can only reminisce those times,
and sitting now alone at my desk, I can only remember brighter days.
Let me know when you’ve struck rock bottom,
and I’ll be here to hoist you up.
Hold on to the bucket you’ve been throwing up in down there,
and I’ll hoist you up.
It’s got greater use than you think.
Pulling teeth is hard enough
when the teeth are set in concrete.

wish you were here

Wish you were here
In my same state of mind,
wish our heads shared chemicals,
and chemical reactions
of the same kind.

wish you were here,
in my same solitude
completing me like
the last puzzle piece
of my mind.

A Lover’s Blues

Have you ever spent every day longing, wanting what you never could attain? Aching for the one thing that would satisfy the gaping hole in your heart, the chasm that could be filled by no other? Spent every waking moment thinking about her, wanting her, remembering her? That is the reality I live. Every day, I wake with her face fading, slipping away from my mind like water in a cupped palm, knowing she littered my dreams like fairy dust or cocaine. Each moment I search for signs that may represent her, I lust over women yet do not act upon my instinct. When every weekday afternoon is a lovemaking session between you and your hand and your virtual girlfriend, that whore on the computer screen, moaning on some other guy’s dick, rubbing her clit. Your hand, your dick, and the kleenex.

Out of a Used Shell

Out of this cracked shell I emerge,

re-used and hand-me-down it’s cracked and already open.

I sit in there from time to time,

and emerge again and again.

Out of a used shell of an egg,

I am reborn.

New, again.

you were the fire that started the apocalypse

you put me through hell and through heaven.

now I look back and thank you for the pain

some of the glory, and some of the strain;

im stronger because of you and maybe thats bad.

I woke up this morning and my coffee was cold
took down the posters and the pictures of you.
Called the coroner inside the arched hallways
told him to stop the operation,
told him to stop the fight.
I stepped outside to greet the day,
but it was dark as hell and refused to grey.
I’d apologize a million times if it would make
differences.
But when you add it all up
its all the same.

BURN

YOUR MOTHERFUCKING CIGARETTE OF YOUR LIFE

and blow it out.

everyone, now.