Sunday, July 20, 2014

Tell Me Anything You Want, Baby

I can hardly continue to sit & reminisce over past mistakes made when my brain sits in such a state of haggard disarray. I've filtered through endless scenarios of a better way to say things to the ghost but my mania is quickly becoming a very tangible thing.
My side hurts & my chest is tight.
Sometimes I'm angry, but mostly in the morning.
I know I should cut back on the cigarettes, but, with like most things, my apathy stops me from committing more self harm & who am I to care? A fucking ideologue without the slightest bit of desire to curb his own inhibitions. A few summers ago a good friend of mine made a joke about his favorite state to be in when getting drunk & remarked, "I don't ever like to black out, I would prefer it if I could just maintain a constant fog over my whole life." I thought it was funny then, & while I still think it's funny now, holy motherfucker how I can relate; my short term memory's gone to shit.

The road may be winding & slippery as hell, but fuck it.

I'd fall one-million times over & breath in the sweet decay of this goddamn city just to remember that I'm still alive.

Before I die I want to_________.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

27 Days until

Blinding light
I cannot walk
a lump in my throat
a pain in my chest
a thorn in my side

Blood on my thumb
never again
a BLINDING light
all summed up into a decimal point
a body bag
a granulated bag

the cylindrical shape is the method
the tunnel full of granular comfort
a rush of wind
flying quickly into my cerebrum
I cannot walk
my thoughts race

Mouth sewn shut

Monday, June 30, 2014

2:55 A.M.

I think if I tried to recall every pussy I've stuck (attempted to) my dick in, my sense of nausea would be a very tangible thing. I'm a son of a bitch, & according to most others, I'm the only one who's aware of it. Amphetamines by day, booze & dinner with the lady in the white dress by night. I'm pretty sure I've gained weight, which oddly enough seems contradictory considering the amount of bullshit I ingest that's supposed to curb my appetite.
What a goddamn hypocrite, that one.
The one with the head of fire & the fat ass.
The one who relies on a walking credit card for a sense of stability borne out of a want of normalcy;
The one who relies on the shithead for a sense of comfort borne out of the worst kind of idealism:
These motherfuckers bog me down in their nothingness when all I want is another way to say goodbye.
& that's the case more often than not; an escape.
I'll see you all in your attempt.

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.