“He thought he lost everything, then he lost a whole lot more”

It will forever baffle me
why men always try and cripple
that to which they are most attracted

Can a woman with your heart
beating in the palm of her hand
not destroy you
whether she be called “whore”
or “dearest”? 

In such a lame attempt
to cover a crack in our stony contentedness
we pull back the curtain
on our ineptitude
and ultimately
our innate delicacy.

This is not to say I am incapable
of reverting back
to this distorted frame of mind
from time to time
but in acknowledging this
I must change permanently 
or come to resent myself.

Open a hole in the heart
to let the sickness out
break your bones to grow
less disfigured than before
forever scar yourself
just to assert who you are
stomp your fingers into dust
spread your touch through the dirt
grind your teeth into points
to better chew your words
shave the skin off your palms
to achieve a more perfect intimacy 
throw the cortex to disarray
for a more definite change of mind
cut me open cut me open
to remind me what I’m doing here
if you destroy me on an impulse
I can finally know that whims matter
the truly dramatic individual
never need fight small battles
woman, you must know I love the pain
I just want it from someone else
another child of isolation preferably
so we might be alone together
maybe there are other cures
for the feeling of being 

I put my humanity on a shelf
where everyone can see it
and I hope one day someone
will see that it is based on this
jar of love, so far unrequited,
that I would like to be judged.
It is the side of my identity
that pleads for interpretation
but in black in white, is impossible
to misunderstand even slightly.
If someone were to ever
love me for my poetry alone
I would never leave their side.
In a way this is selfishness,
but understand, kind reader,
that what I see in others
is the deliberation with which
their infinite love if dispersed.
Desiring an audience for my soul
I wear it externally, on a page.

My life is an out-of-body experience
and I feel utterly helpless and alone.

I had a vision
where I crept
late at night
into the compartment
of my mind
The place
in which I consider
the nature of dreaming
I found myself face to face
with nightmare after nightmare
desperately trying to wake
but failing
my character
my cerebral avatar
flailed and attacked itself
I knew about my entrapment
yet I was powerless to wake
but into a more terrifying reality

Upon the closing
of the next day
I found myself wondering
if tonight should repeat
last night’s horrorshow
for I was anxious as ever
to return
to the fascinating world
that I have dreamt
a place where fear is inconsequential
where my identity is abstract
but altogether unaffected
by the bias of consciousness
where I can throw myself
miles downward to my death
and then muse
“fascinating”

I used to never dream
before I achieved
some rudimentary form
of self-love and self-confidence
my mind, now more inviting
seems to have opened itself up
and for that I consider myself
to be truly fortunate
for our minds
are truly unknowable
they heel to you
at their whim
allowing you only glimpses 
of only yourself
it is a wonder we should ever need
a father figure
or a god
I now see the endless benefits 
to meditation
we must strive to dream
as we walk the earth
with open eyes
to live and die without consequence
is to know the universe
in it’s totality

People worry
about bass
about the
underpinned
the foundation
whereas I think
while a core will
still be there
a skeleton cannot
keep you warm
crispness, a sense
of decorum
completeness
and eloquence
I think are illustrated
by the treble
and medium tones
bass is humankind
treble is civilization
turn the low end up
to revert to animalism
I am unopposed
to this notion
I dance, I move
with bass I feel unfulfilled
yet I cannot function
without these
deep creature sounds 
a little “i love you”
at the high end
would not disappoint
but spare me
my earth shaking tones
and the treble becomes
just a ringing in my ears 
I am merely human 

Wearing white sheets
the joyous broken boy
sinks in the back seat
the melancholy vehicle                                                  Fall
painted up with spray
a picture with wheels
he drew it of only her
weed-smelling portrait
I stain it with sickness
here lies miss immobile
once senora sympathy
now the car that once
drove my heart through                                                from
being a young american
is a piece of modern art
in a thirteen foot grave 
turn around naive moth
when you once thought
the wings just take you
shut senses down again
must return pathetically
to the town you never                                                     the
in the state you always
adopt deciduous habits
and lay your wires down
you will cut open the sky
walking out of that gate
put the death behind you
remember feeling so safe                                               sky
that all the pain from life
blushed with intimidation
now fall my bastard boy
down with your old ways
eat with forks and knives
forget denim and sarcasm
disarm yourself completely
introspection for ignorance                                            with
what you are experiencing
is just a highway accident
white sheets turned paper
paper now tears into itself
glass penetrates your soul
deeper than a great novel
and the blood flows easier
than slam poetry on drugs
yelling into happenstance
through chance and fate                                               me
I screamed for salvation 
you’ve muted the pain
of my failed landing
I am crashing into
the end of an era
a flash and bang
tell my parents 
love is suicide
never control                                                            instead
I will not die
it’s time to
put the
past
in
a
(box)

Painters are andy warhol 
writers are no one
the internet is a shithole
enjoy your meaninglessness
or enjoy being anonymous
nothings can do anything
fuck you 
this is a poem

More standards to match
must be perfect, I blame those
who perpetuate

and if you do… any questions? 

:) 

To express yourself
write lines, but to understand
read the fucking verse