Sunday, January 12, 2014


Tired & damp
only but a husk
of that which I was before
most likely to be again

This thing that sweeps me into oblivion
nor an absolute
more than anything

Tuesday, December 3, 2013


What is that sound?
Am I uncertain?
Did you hear that echo?

You surely did, your heart beats loudly.
I stare down & that blue washes over me;
sometimes, it gently splashes my ankles;
other times, it knocks me over;
at times, I am caught in the riptide, unknowingly.

A moment of a moment, awash in happenstance.

You render me impotent with your ambiguity;
I am left torn.
The pain of longing;
the reach of nothing;
the weight of your anything.

Allow me this one thing;
to exhale the subtle yet quaking sigh of my
everything that I am unto you.

15:44 he's always tired

You get tired eventually.
I'm finally resigned. There are some things you just can't control. I put in the effort, time, work. Did what I did & now it's time to let everything unravel. To be quite honest, that's really hard for me to say,  but that's how its gotta be. I'm mostly resigned because I can't keep waking up like this. I feel nothing right now & it's great. I've always been one to embrace the darkness & I believe there is some virtue in that, but in this case, I'm too tired. I have to give myself a break.
We're all still full of shit.

Friday, November 29, 2013


What is it then?
Its true that you're here. Its true that you just paid for a whiskey. That reminds me. Ech. You can wash windows with this shit. There's the burn though, makes me feel all nice & cozy. A woman led you here. You traced your memories out to queens. Bedbugs. This cycle is vicious. I'm positive thanksgiving is a bullshit holiday. Thankful for what? Jesus. Be happy that you're alive. Save your thanks & your praise, I deserve nor want either.
I'm finding that the solution to this whole mess is to bury myself in cunt. I like booze enough, but it doesn't hold me. I drop the pants, climb in, & set up for the foreseeable future. I tend to walk out drenched in all regards, but at least I get to push the pain off for a little while.
This bar-top isn't level, everything keeps sliding away. I'll consider that a microcosm. How much is too much? Honestly. On that note as well, what is vice? What a load of nonsense, this idea of vice. You do what you do & you use these supposed "ills" to your advantage. Addictions are for the weak kneed. That's not entirely true. I know some tough motherfuckers who've smelled the earth.
Someone recently told me that I was a glutton for suffering.
I think they were right.

Thursday, November 28, 2013


I've got dirt on my hands. I've been running. I recognize it. Not sure where to. The only saving grace is that eventually I'll end up somewhere. Long trips. Long, long, long. I can't break it. A long pause. I stare at you dead in the face. Nothing to say. You once told me a story of your youth. You made a bad choice you said. You left one for another. You regretted that. I told you the same thing. In that moment, by your door, when we locked eyes, that moment lasted for a long time. I told you you were going to regret it & I left.
You did the same thing.
I guess some people just don't learn from their mistakes.
I'm still helping you & you don't even know it. That conversation you had with her? That was me. You take a trip for 2 days. Try & distract yourself. The white lady was there & she brought booze. He read me some Henry Miller, something about swelling cunts. The day broke & neither of us knew.
I was angry that night after dealing with the game so I took a walk to find someone to take it all out on.
A whole lot of nothing.
I'm full of shit.
At least I'm honest. I'd like to think that's a rare quality, but who am I kidding?
I asked her for a nude photo & so as to make her feel comfortable, I offered one in exchange. I then suggested that we fuck & she could take it or leave it. Most of all I wanted the photograph & could give a damn whether we did or not, I was just angry. She agreed & we walked to the basement. I guess she appreciated the honesty. We undressed slowly, or at least I felt slow about it; booze. I positioned her, took the picture & handed her the camera. She snapped one of me, nearly identical to mine of her. She said something about meeting a friend so we got dressed & fucked off.
I don't know what it is, or how you do it, but I think this game is rigged.
People expect bullshit, so we've created bullshit, on top that pre-existing bullshit, to respond to some other type of bullshit, which inevitably ends up still being bullshit.
We've created all of this bullshit to make things easy.
We've created all of this bullshit to boost our own ego's
I think you gotta get out there. Sometimes I don't eat. I barely get by. It does something for you though. You learn to understand your own nothingness & the beauty that is that in those types of situations. When your stomach is on fire & you feel on the verge of puking & that subsides because you've smoked enough cigarettes to curb your appetite, you really learn to cut the bullshit 'cause most of it ain't really important.
Being alive is a good thing & I'm happy for it.

Saturday, November 23, 2013


Remember that thing you told me about regret?
Well, you'll regret this one too.

13:50, P.M.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Two Pilsners

Here I am, carrying your socks around with me in my pocket like a goddamn lunatic. I used them as gloves. Kept my hands warm. I swell with anger. My tide recedes, then the anger turns into nothing. Kind of like how footprints wash away in the sand. Or some other bullshit. Allegorical nonsense. Whaddya got left? Well, for starters, you've got your hands, that's pretty huge. People ask me how I'm doing & I tell them that I'm alive. That's a good thing. I think. Being alive is tough though; most things are aimless, arbitrary. Whatever. Kind of like this diatribe I'm going on. Although, there are moments of good. I suppose nothing is without its opposite. I'll spare you anymore.
& I step down off of my soapbox.
Hopeful, & full of beer.
I stare off.
You're here.
That bridge,
big & beautiful,
tired & weathered like me.
& I pause.
A refrain.
Love, swelling.
& I'll say no more,
because something's are better off felt.
Myself & the hole that is in me.
All is okay.