somethings usually just not okay. but thats okay

like to start off with saying I’m lost. There ain’t a map, way or glossary ‘to take it. at all. Depraved. It ain’t sacred. I’m naked. Response? scared of impatience, so anxious. i’m taking a fall. fallacious. paying contours gray with the absence of paint on the walls. state of elation? Sapped. And my grace?.. is an absence of substance I take overhauled. pass me your loving. stay away from me. God. Give me a break. as I claim disarray as my God. Nirvana takes over as I ‘filet and then prod, at my flesh ’til the red blends innately with smog. Americanah. So contagious. It’s gone. Now picture courageous in ‘bombs. To the point where bravery borders deception. Post mortem, now all the good efforts feel ‘sort of neglected. I didn’t step on the land mine to be regarded as hero. Now I man an unwanted purple heart for my ignorance. Zeroes and ones, binary read on the back light. A robotic grin erupts as they’re playing their bagpipes. Demolish my ear drums. Monkey hears no evil, but he fears what you strum, and. You pluck your guitar strings when we unveil relief in percussion. A scar ain’t a scar without something that fits you. That’s why lovers carve into bark, their somber initials. Take a stab in the dark. The knife? the same that my wrists used. The pain in your heart that’s engraved by a chisel. We stay after dark, to praise a modern-day raising of art casing after a summers day wane in the park. I summoned your name, feigned dumb, but okay. as Rain blushes, the chain rusting bathes off with the beige/bronze that pays homage to veins. like ‘handcuffs snapped-off, like a slash/ as the blood lathers and stains. You can’t cut it, you can’t stomach the pain. You lunge after sensations you’re addicted too; as plains plummet in range. Don’t lay me to rest. Just lay me to misuse. Just lie me to waste. Let me lay with my issues. As the Nile drain drives me away. Wish trees were designed ‘outta clay so my tears could cry ’em away. Wash out delays, instead of watching it blossom. They lied. There ain’t a foundation once you hit bottom. Staying awake, after days crouched from the sharpshooting. I call it a camoflauge daze: Rehearsing what to say, so, you sound sane when you talk to ’em

Don’t you get mad when there isnt’ a word that encapsulates your thoughts? So you write sonnets and songs, and poets and hymns, haikus and shit just to sorta capture it all?

sigh. the streetlight kissed your eyes & created an impression so pure.
its whiteness
i bring this up, bceause I fell in love by remembering my reflection off your iris.
expression in its highest form, sensory designed to cure, destinies arrived.
analyzed the sculpture, of course. – then vandalized your structure
leaves falling aimlessly, in it’s phantom-like flutter
randomized in the sputter of it all, only to capture geometry
if love reaches new heights this colloquys written in masterful mountains
parallel streets, architecture of houses, potential surrounding of impeccable scenery only strengthened and balanced, by the powerful breath breathed into me, when your mouth pressed out in between, the sound effect of the pucker so loud, so vehemently i remember a shroud of evenly distributed, heavenly eloquence – where blood cells held an exodus to swell in the realm of my lips
visited palace of hymns, where people would sing forever
rectify the devilish sin, held in the pits that existed cus’ well- we relished in them
to intensify my sensory limits, so inexplicably wicked, touching a galaxy
lungs breathing love, lost & found, but what were we hide and seeking from?
under an elm. deciduous. it was funny, cause that’s when i decided.
where the brushing of wind from Sandy slighted me above the stratosphere
we’re out of here, cusp of your hand became the new life vest where if it rained, i knew right then, to hang by you, to clutch, til’ the waves subdued in horizons
hell- bent over control of my conscious like i poured everything, and stanzas decomposed into options
the perfectness? prose couldn’t match with it
gravity didn’t have an emerging role in this drama and thesis
portrayed through my soul cus i swear it rose.
and nirvanas capricious
picture a boat, now picture it floating without water beneath it
still rocking along the coast, unbeknownst to a force that governs its beaches
once I pulled you close to me, and spoke in a manner, boldly enamored
dissolving distraction, your hips close to me, after.
it was poignant i told you to kiss me, with the grip of your jeans intervening & lingering memorizing the seams, & create macrocosms just between what I felt in my fingertips
elevate my scarlet shard.
that’s the end of discussion i could feel the eruption of your blushing, emanate my arctic heart
hurricane winds made you clutch your arms in defensive posture
this next sentence is a toss up, between a metaphor for intensive form or comparing your sensual heart hugs to a tropical storm
loveboat wasnt enough to capsize in waves of charm
star-studded raindrops baptized our naked arms
established an anomaly so vastly diverse; i could only deduce it in calculus version
gauge the geometric perversion & argue that it was mathematically perfect
and by that?
I came to animate, inanimate objects abstract art splattered paint so simple, my only explanation is that it had to be complex


Processed with VSCOcam with t2 preset

I don’t even care for breathing air, like A.) it’s clearly a mission. B.) Decided not to get angry today. It’s barely decision. Think life should be more grand than it is, but it isn’t. Can’t have regrets with being wrong, that’s why I love indecision. Sweater against chins, found myself looking for trouble. I love when the thread gets hooked to the stubble. Everyday that awaits is merely a presence. Trepidation dismayed, Come on, spare me a second. Deliriums weighed out of space, a variable essence, just savor today and take care of the present. Valiant way to go about positive pulses. To distract any and, all cognitive focus. Bottled emotions are false, I recycle with candor. Light a candle for the fervor, yeah, I’m slightly enamored. Find me an ember, then signal me over. Superstar to the blackhole you stitched in the nova. Pray to thy father for all lucrative sin. Indifferent with my efforts to feel human again Making deliberate errors to feel human again. I don’t feel human again. Oh my god, I don’t feel human again. Crippling endeavor, how loose can I get? Mixing leisure with whenever = hows the hubris in print? Ballad of blueprints I script; valid Freudian slips. That the entire, massive audience gets. Parrying my worries off with a quart of vodka and gin. Cocky with grins, cordial to the ghosts that i sleep with. Blood alcohol at about .8 for a better portion of week. Speak in harbingers. cohesive volume bleep. Final cut of Lost in Translation in scene, ironically explains my solitude deeper than any audible scheme .what a phenomenal feat, I still dream about the hairs on your neck. To tell this real boy that he’s still a marionette. Cut my heart strings, in all fairness, respect. Your stare down had me speechless at my ventriloquist act. Webbing off surrealism, with tarantulan siege. Gargantuan in a glass jar, with nothing to reach. With nothing but handprints on the outside that acted as speech. Palpable. Weak. I wish when I talked, that my verbal drew in circles with supersonic aplomb. And my vowels would nonchalantly evolve through a canvass. through a gospel of songs that I draw within language. Go into a lobby, as if I’m talking to god, to what I embody; through an army of my consonant art.

a parting glass, baby

the moment was so existentialist. I brought 3 apples.
one for the both of us. & 1 for the road
if it comes up I suppose we could split it
undisclosed disposition. hanging from the hammock ropes
in the stitching. there was hope, for half-robed demolition
bungalow; almost out of a dream- quite a bit intensive
fictitious; in the sense, paints peeling from white picket fences
Strange feeling, in front of the mowed lawn
in between the solstice of summer and spring
molded from the cumbersome explosions you’d bring
love when she hands me her half bitten apple – as if it comes with an asterisk.
an ad-lib example, of italics in the back of the index
take a bite out of the apple or take a bite out of me
fall in love in the castle. fall in drown to the sounds of the sea
comparisons to the moon – thought were drastically measured
but noticed high tide receded sunrise where my gravity centered
upset. I bite my lips till’ blood spills in the battlefront mist
not to inflict pain, but deflect the traces of that dispassionate kiss
teeth marks turn into tattoos covering the mistakes from the past
the china vase that bloomed flowers, but shattered, is only serrated as glass
like lately i feel, sort of amazing. yet displaced and unreal, unsanctioned
revealed. abated. idealistic adulation unveiled. just waiting
unrelated, too anxious to seal the tiny indiscreet places unfilled
out on the rock, by the creek. placing your hand on my cheek
detached since forever. you help me make these connections I seek
never thought i’d be formal, but you make me feel normal. at least..
enthralled in coercion, your neglect changed me overall as a person
love was linear, so now i write love songs and sonnets in cursive
despondent. subversive. tire swing made from your 91′ Cherokee jeep
which showed me you still used parts from the past thrown away in the street
connective to the stylus of the records through music created
overuse of the grooves from the vinyl discarded my humanlike traits
describing an incentive to twist, a sigh and a scent of distress
its funny & sad, i write to remind myself to remember to live
if you’re reading this right now, i probably need to reevaluate my resolve
dissolve in the valium wake. retaliate from the maxims til’ i can barely walk
i could barely talk. my adolescence consisted of wishing i died.
living without really having lived, now i don’t even think im alive
now even feeling a feeling is feeling contrived
cause six feet seems like such a waste to shovel. just let the sediment dry
Chesterfield smoke on Elmora and 5th, such a vivid annoyance
beginning to fill my lungs with smoke, that i’ve come to avoid
now i play villain cause i just simply enjoy it

winter gets c(old)

It’s a carnival crush. From arcades to archaic

From boquets to berated. Here, have my cardigan, love.

Carving initials into the bark, nick the surface

Spell-bound by hand-strokes your wrist made with the cursive

First-time impressionist. To see your signature engraved

Tattooing mended wounds to suggest I was okay

my last shot, i swear, man.

Sweared it’s my last shot. Promised it was. It was the electric flow to my conduits buzz. Been left alone, shadow unfollowed me. but, I got 40 ounces that say I’ve done everything but bottle it up. Hairs falling out, play a game, (because I’m so ugly, I’m fucking shot.) Count the follicles, ‘she loves me……. she loves me-not’ Proudly logical. Gladly pick you apart. Sadly, and single handedly pulling the strings from your heart. Stitching compartments, living fancy. livid and darkness. Living apartment, shelling angry, felt the shift in you when I put my fist through the door.   Sometimes, I listen to the pauses you take, the breaths, and silence in every word set astray. I don’t listen to you, or me when I talk, it decays. I just change my demeanor, and dock. It’s okay. It’s a struggle between me and my ego. A masturbation, heat sensing. I’ve feel in love with the inaudible between the masqueraded pretenses. I lost track of the bridges I burned.


groove to the classics, velveteen smooth, devilish antics. Never seen through my pirate themed ruse, or the skeleton captain. x-ray embellishing, developing cancer. The elephant in the room, and the rest is in captions. Subtitled. And the lexicons added, for your pleasurable view, gotta penchant for adlibs. Subdued, to my intelligence, say hello to the masses, yeah, it’s just you, some gel tablets and the medicine cabinet. They’re like a presidents cabinet. Group of advisers  the vicodins the vice president, the alcohol the confidant. Loose on the side. Hide the bruises you captured. A group of counselors, grouped into family shit ending in -cillin. the chancellor, consultant, all there to mentor you. Chilling. In the living room, like it was meant to instill some impressionable feeling. Dandruff building, scratching till it bleeds where’s the Selsun Blue? Telekinetic view, light a match until it ceases. And recedes till the black hits my thumb. Black from the burning. The burn’ll bring me back from the dumps. Marvel at stars, watching the tv watch me from the sofa. Turn on the TV but drown it out with the garbage disposal. MY credit score is pristine, except, I crashed my car last year. Geico could save you fifteen percent.

close to regret

He doesn’t feel close to anything
Friends are placeholders for emptiness
He sings to himself while watering plants

or he wants to. He doesn’t even grow plants

Does thing he regrets, does things he doesn’t
Regrets them both. Regret that he’s done it
or did it, or was, or wasn’t.
Heartbroken. For what?
How does a heart go from golden to rot
I look at pretty faces, just hoping for something
Laugh at the way people conduct themselves
Conducting in stealth.

Ask for help by pretending I don’t need it
I don’t.

Just need me some hope.
Establish a ground rule, establishing sound.
Down on his self.

Doesn’t brush his teeth today

Memorizes the Braille his plaque forms
Doesn’t care, kills themselves in the routine

Looks at his friends smiling

Sunshine weather is a chance to bathe himself 
in sun rays, stretch his back and fingers in the air

ugh. Why? Ugh. Sighs. Disagree with your opinion

don’t even bother to tell why not

doesn’t matter
don’t support any of the million things people fight for

I don’t care

my war is up here in my head

it’s a tiny platform where millennia takes place

I can’t even breathe

Making non humanly noises, like a puppy moaning, upset at the sectional voices, that put him here.

Eyes watering. Sore throat. Sucks

tired and upset. The imprint of my

body in my bed has become art

I don’t even drink, or do drugs, to

bored to

become a

worse version


his self

at the doors

im in love with you, but I don’t want to be.
I blame you for my woes, but it isn’t you
you were just a tiny percentage
a smidgen of hope I hung unto, the glimmer
barely, there like the painting of glitter, the spark in the thinner edges of my mind
there was a hug you gave me once, at the step of your door, after you came
back. I knew you so well, I had a gift for you, I forget what, I want to say flowers. Your silhouette marched behind the glass doors. you didn’t know it was me. I’ve been messaging you, tiny hints of my departure, which you didn’t totally pick up on. You opened the door. And I uttered words, that didn’t matter, like “why didn’t you-” you hugged me. And I kept asking you the question. – this is important, because, I didn’t want to be overwhelmed by emotion, so I verbally tried to cut out your overwhelming intimate touch, just a hug, by spewing this verbal vomit. You hugged me
harder at the step of your door. Squeezing me, almost, but with this passionate reflex that, put me so far into you, I still remember it as if it happened a few hours ago. It’s been two years. It feels like a few fucking hours. But I know it’s not. What’s funny, to support this passage is, people ask me how long I’ve had my hair cut, I say “a few months” it’s been over two years. My tracking of time is just lost, like that hug commenced this time warp where im sucked into it. Today a coworker pat me on the back to wipe some dirt off. I didn’t want them to stop patting me, it’s like any real interaction with humans, something as simple as a pat to wipe off a patch of dirt, reminds me of your fucking doorstep. Now when I hug, I hug hard. I hug people hard. I want people to remember these hugs, maybe I could just give people the same feeling as you did and still do to me. Picasso, I would pay Picasso billions, and I would pay whoever could resurrect him even more, just so, we can go back in time, hell, you rose a man from the dead, so we’re going back in time, so he could photo frame my face, the moment your arms wrapped around me, in your black coat, I never seen you in. and Id want him to paint my face. Id want to see my face in art in that moment. it would be called “broken heart”, because in that moment my heart wasn’t broken, it was mended, melded. Sewn. it was just the following months, years- well minutes in my world that broke it again. I wonder if anybody has any slight innervation about what I feel on a daily basis, over a damned, hug. God damn, you. I just, wish, I could just breathe again.

Explosives can be a growth experience

tired of decomposing, dried up, my dreams are dozing
my body has peaked the opus, through godly retreat.
I hope. trying to feel a pulse, pariah that feels opposed
pinching my gripe, controlling. picture my mind in solace
pitching and writhing, gritting and grinding my teeth to focus
witch-doctors reveal a poem, my palms have been reading growth
exhausted. my beings broken. loathe signs that concede to smoke
I need the tar to feed compulsions. exhaust that secretes emotions.
tyrants as deacons, posing; goliath as people cloaking
a lion in sheeplings clothing, a tiger that feels repulsed
about the lines that he sees his coat in. why do i feel insulted
sonnets revealed in quotient, to qualm this conceited ghost
but while i sleep, i know that, the mind is a demons crows nest
fire that feeds ferocious, piles of sheathed explosives


fire place with tourettes. pop and crackles in depth
drunkenly asking questions I wouldnt dare. I was shy
recherché brunette, with curlicue braids in her head
there’s a reason wine glasses are in the shape of a Y
fork in the road, left or go right, slicing tension with knives
I went left, it felt right. spooning you cus’ the etiquette’s nice
drinking the truths I fed you, intoxicated with lies
sedated and high. i’ve contemplated for help
what kills you isn’t the virus, it’s the inoculation itself
it’s what helps you, and what hurts you; it’s complicated as hell
whatever. that isn’t what I wanted to say
I wanted to go, but in jest I wanted to stay
it’s getting awfully late. capturing arguments offside
cured by clever wording, Cambridge-Oxford alumni
defunct and debased. aim the hair and the trigger
selfishly enamored with death. date at 8, before dinner
ignoring the nose bleed as I stare in the mirror
tighten my neck-tie. debonair of elixir
ignored the pain, hailed a taxi to a chain up in Gloucester
took off her pea coat, pulled up her chair, and with posture
stayed after pay. After lobster. Chatting crucially after
doodled on napkins. flirty exchanges on contours
draw a monster for me. now.. what makes it a monster?
Voodoo and magic, pin the needle on the doll
Incognito. High libido in the stalls.
torpedoed, and we fall. Mistaking distress cause i’m loyal
disrobing attempts at joy. sex as a crutch to enjoy you
aware, but yet not so. picked up on the influenced behavior
clues like, you were nice to me, but were rude to the waiter
apprehensive as creatures; egotistical shroud we bestowed
to, jealous of the fires made when I was set out in the cold
mistakes are subjective. practicing repetition til’ death
like a photo out of focus is a blunder, but ten are a trend
ambien, ambiance, ambulance.
a picture of you in a locket near my hearts strings
open it up. learning to stop looking for happiness where i lost it


Dreams and reverie boasts
Roasted with pearly green chimerical gold
God Delusion. Hallucinating a miracle told
Where lightning strikes the conscious
Lively minded. Constant.
Smile by a goddess
Where perfectness unfurled by Pangaea
Curvy hips, sangria and rooftops
Inebriated in a sea. with a jukebox
Charismatic, dispelling drama. adorable
gospel sings for the saga approaching
Americanah and rooted, salsa and dance
Savannah beauty, with a lot to command
sailor of wisdom, a body tailored for rhythm
samba routine, enigma. for her frolicking waist
Marvelous taste. Whiskey and fruit wine
Yin and yang in spirit. Spirits and moonshine
Clamoring percussion, fireworks on the eve
ten seconds for eruption, heart on her sleeve
little black dress, static libido
attracted me. magnetic tuxedo
countdown in Manila, 3 seconds to go
loud sounds pound now, as we disrobe