UNTITLED

The way we are
And the way we're meant to be
              Lining up like schoolchildren
Sloppily
     Crooked
like our morals
Like our thoughts
              Best kept hidden
Forbidden
On some moral ground
That does not belong to us
                not long for us
Before we lose it all
Or rather
Before it's taken from us
Shaken from our perch
At the peak of our youth
Shaken down
      Breaking down
           Breaking out
Breaking
       Down and out
Starting from scratch
Realigning
Lining up
       Like schoolchildren

UNTITLED

Rain falls
Cleansing (metaphorically that is)
Washing away my sins
At least that's the hope
As long as hope floats

But hope hangs heavy around the neck
Taking me below the surface
Revealing the purpose

It's worthless
Shirtless in the cold
Growing old
Fermenting
Turning alcoholic
Turning poisonous
   Poised on the edge
On the line between where I am
                           Where I've been
                               And where I'm likely to never be
I'm likely to never see above the surface again

Hope sinks

Rain falls

UNTITLED

Take me home
         Home is where the heart is
So I retreat into myself
I hide inside the confines
                     Of my own body
Hide behind a wall of flesh and bone
Hide away from the outside world
                  Where judgemental eyes
                                        Make prying stares
Prying open my chest
            Revealing my refuge

It's just another grave
Another great disappointment
              Another failed disappearance
                            A failed experiment
                                     A jailed experience
Trapped in an endless string of graves
One
      After
              Another
Buried deeper and deeper
A deeper understanding
Of what it means to be confined
Fined the price of liberation
               Deliberation
                       Deliberate attempts at creation
Creating new hiding places
In futility
Take me home
                       Please
                                 Take me home

UNTITLED

This is just a shitty love poem
You probably won't like it

It's got tons of cliches
And stuff
But anyway

I think you're really pretty
And I like your clothes

Your taste in music is good too

If I could give you all the foxes in the world
I wouldn't
Because then you'd have too many foxes
And you wouldn't like them anymore
Maybe
That's beside the point
My main point is
That you're pretty cool I guess
And if you thought I was pretty cool too
You guess
I would be pretty happy
I guess

So yeah
I know I'm no Poe
Or Kanye
Or some other great wordsmith
But please don't hold that against me
'Cause I like you
Like, I like like you
And stuff
I guess

UNTITLED

Feigning interest
Failing interest
Falling into rest
Into the rest
Into unrest
Unless there is a moment
A spark of captivation
But that is unlikely
Unlike me
I'm not often captivated
Not often
Is not to say never
However
it's happened once or twice
Probably
I don't really remember
I don't really know
I never know
Not often
However it's possible
That i've just forgotten
Stranger things have happened
But enough of that
I'm losing interest

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Coffee lips and interrupted dreams
Once again the sun rises

Psychoanalytic theory suggests
That dreams are your unconscious mind
Having its voice heard

I think that's bullshit

But nonetheless the morning persists
Or something like that
I'm awake anyway

I'm awake
Wide awake

For the first time
For the worst time

Good mourning

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Ethereal
Either real
Or imagined
Though I haven't much time for reality
Leaving us with only the imagined
Our constructions
Of great halls and eccentric characters
Our fictitious accounts of actual events
Like a rose dyed blue
For some aesthetic purpose
I do not understand

Otherworldly
In other words
Inaccessible idealisms of a created world
Where roses are blue
And are seen as beautiful because of it
Symbols of love and affection

A keen eye for aesthetics
Noticing symmetry in her face
Falling deeply in love
In the only way we know how
Clumsily

UNTITLED

Fragmented images of a garden pathway in Spring
Accompanied by sharp feelings of nostalgia

Piecing together of thoughts, pictures, and ideas
A collage of forgotten experience
That the body remembers
But that escapes the grasp of memory
As it reaches back
Fumbling around
Trying to grab hold of a moment
Clumsily

The end result:
       A mosaic in stained glass
                           Of interconnected
                                        Indistinguishable images
Each resembling but not copying
An experience of the past
Each imparting an emotional response
Which will never be understood

UNTITLED

The nature of my desires
                 Those of physical
                                 Emotional
                                          Sexual Origins
Their nature
Is rooted deeply
                In nature
Driven by necessity
Eat
     Sleep
             Procreate
Spread the seed
Colonise the world
                Impregnate
Fornicate
A fine balance between
                     Consuming
                              And Producing
Give and take
Give and break

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Bury me six feet under
Your spell
Dig my grave
With your graces
One look upon your Cleopatran beauty
And the shovel is plunged into the dirt
I died the first time I saw you
And in the same moment
I began to live

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Inject your apathy
Deeply
Directly into my veins
As I tie the worn leather belt tightly around my arm

Lessen the burden
Remove the weight of concern
From my loaded shoulders
Take away my Atlas status

Free me

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Overlapping
Sounds
Ideas
Panels
Juxtaposed
Forming a new image
A new
Imagined reality
Juxtaposed
(If you will)
With all realities
Both imagined and not
This juxtaposition
(Of course)
Creating a new
Collective reality
To look in perspective
Objective
Suggestive
Terms
Sensual
Sado-masochistic
Arousal
Arrival
A rival
Competing for a heart
Of any kind
Or sort
A cohort of sorts
A cohort
In shorts
Offshore in short
Adrift
A rift
A raft
He laughed
At last
Atlas
A world map
And a sore back
Overlapped

UNTITLED

Spin
Spin out of control
Turn
Around
And around
Be taken away
Away to
Anywhere
Anywhere but here
Transportation
Transcontinentinal
Transparent
The insides
Are seen outwardly
Observatory
Obligatory
Old
Bleak
and Gory
Gold Beaked
In Glory
Soaring above us
Circling
Evaluating
Devaluating
Devouring
Gouging in
Tearing out
Making a mess
Entrails scatter the scene
Old Bleak and Gory
Obligatory