When I’m not up in the sky,
I can’t feel the crushing guilt
of my wasted time.
When I’m not feeling my blood
coarse through uninhibited,
I feel justly fine.
When I stare alone in my empty home,
waiting for the next day to come,
I pass away the minutes.
But if my head isn’t to be found,
and my mind is focused on sounds,
Limbo is where I’m restless.
Fighting the quips of culture
through exile that’s torture,
isn’t the happiest of lives.
But with my hard earned success,
that’s really nothing to brag,
I’m glad I’m not missing those highs.
It’s the ever mounting pressure
to be something I can only dream of
that keeps me drinking at night
pondering, scheming on how to be Better.
I write, legs up, flesh naked
a cold air no where to be seen.
Sheets as rough as silk,
a heat sinking in my gut.
A sexless rhythm is in my soul
pounding away ironically at my bones
My confidence is in need of a home,
My mind is wanted back on my shoulders.
A stagnant breeze dampens my mood,
driving me to my ancient dome.
A cold summer fan alleviates my groove
that I’ve spent years digging.
That familiar taste of a time forgotten.
That smell of friendships lost, fewer earned.
My sadness wells from a hole in the ground,
and all my love trapped inside her urn.
I must be doing something right
you keep stammering with me
on and on until the sun makes it back
till the birds chirp and the dirt cracks.
I’m a shut-in, through and through,
and you’re still here, what’s wrong with you?
Porn, booze, and endless freedom
Food and clothes are not welcome
This is my everything, what I call whoredom
something we can relate to in your kingdom.
I can see you through and I’m sure you can the same
but you never admit it, are you to blame?
Were your defenses down for a brief time?
That hasty moment when I fell in love
Now closed forever, my future fantasies severed.
But even as I come to grip with you,
all I can remember and justify
is that I must be doing something right,
because I’m still in touch with you.
I got questions
and you have answers
to life, the universe,
and love forgotten.
An anonymous interest,
so endearing you exclaim.
My only wish is never to know
my pseudo lover’s flame.
But in this fire,
where metal drips
so hot is your touch,
it can melt through the Earth.
A time for rebirth is all I crave,
a chance for my worth to shave
off a few bumps of lonely waves,
and watch me dive into the surf.
I feel disgusted yet welcomed
and outraged but delighted
and hate of myself
and love to yourself.
Old habits die hard
in ways I can’t fathom.
I thought I was never good enough,
and I still do.
But you persistently mentioning
the opposite things,
yet consistently act the other way,
it hurts and tugs on my heart strings.
I know I’m overreacting
and I know that there’s nothing to this.
But just for once I want to be normal,
to think normal, and be set free.
I feel my skin a’cookin’
Baby my heart’s an oven
I want that summer lovin’
Burn all bright and beat all true.
Shady trees I’m a’huntin’
Your life is unbecomin’
Babe, I want that summer lovin’
To shine polish on you.
I get my greed a’racin’
Can’t you see my pockets burnin’?
I want your summer lovin’
To grip me and never let may.
Fever pitch, my mind a’meltin’
This cold mirage a glistenin’
Hun, I need your summer lovin’
But that’s ok. That’s ok.
I come up with dumb little songs while I’m at work to pass the time, here’s one of them.
I wish the world
lost their sight like me
To be so blinded
that no one could make out
features so prevalent.
I pray each night
as I’m restoring my eyes
that stunning high-definition
is just fragmented imagination.
Once the conditioning winds down
and I can see at my own true self,
I see an object of beauty,
not another soul to match.
It’s without my script
that I feel comfortable in my skin.
But once those frames are attached,
my beauty and courage are subject to theft.
Negative one seventy five
all the Right has been waved.
Negative three point two hundy
only a dissipating shell is Left.
The people I talked to, the few that do,
Uplifting boredom, your gray scaled colors show true.
Fashionably fabulous but buyer’s remorse
it’s no wonder you had it all stolen.
The tearing weight of a champion lost,
El Generalissimo now stands in your wake.
It’s bright outside, my window tells me,
but enclosed in my sick bay is where I’ll stay.
My thoughts, to those who stay close:
I miss the man that I’ve hated the most.
I can hear the creaks in my nose,
and the cries from my skin,
the terror from my stomach
to the weakness of my brain.
And the lack of the antonym in my everything.
I keep having these
in which I am better
I’m bigger, stronger,
Quick with a joke, a smoke,
a life I must’ve skipped.
Rants and Raves
I miss all the same,
twelve hours on two wheels
really turns the frame.
I can’t keep clear,
I want the fog back in my ears.
Those sights and lights
put me back into first gear.
My words are so literal with no imagination
and I see you just spiraling along,
rainbows touching your tits
shouting aloud and beckoning for more!
Yet with a subtle kiss, you are tidal.
Yet with a gentle touch, you are cosmic.
With a leering pry
and with those damn dark brown eyes.
Your ivories send sonics through my own,
even the forgotten three rattle in their holes.
Your lips were nearly mine,
so why’d you go, radio silence?
Why did you read me? And these?
Your awful words conspired against me.
Bringing my hopes up
and sinking my doubts low,
I enter my stony grove,
to sleep with your memory’s trove.