we make looks

listen

for once

and

fall in love with 2006 again

plastic melts

but metal holds

and i watch the others carefully, quietly

without this cunning sense of  enchantment

i drag around with me most days

set it before people

keeps them close enough to stay

further from the ending 

i tell the ending

like i carried the beginning with my fucking hands 

like it was mine to carry and felt it's depth, width, length: its incision.

but then we,

we make looks

and 2006 still sticks

and all the burned candle wicks

the wrecks

but thats a laughable tag on a happy mending

i take a bite

tear 

shreds

now you're ready.

You see me: finished

lemonade with the pulp and just enough sugar granuals

full and to the brim

but sugar on the tounge

pulp on the lungs

it's just salt with a better PR agent

unripened

it wasn't the revenge that smoothed my most intimate edges

you attack me from the inside

a trojan horse

a simmering catalyst

sacred fear:

a plentiful hunt

a reason to give up

instead of always

this

destruction, restoration

the consummation far outweighed

the sick cyclic insatiable contradictions

a fuel only used to produce

the same

nothing more

i sacrificed the worst part

and it was no easier than the best

except gaining

the ability to now discern between the two.

wanted to tell you of my triumphs,

but you are it. 

this is what it must be like. 

Screamer

this had to have been from 2008. it gets a little, young, at parts.

but the ending, ah, the ending. and one of my favorite lines ever (of mine) contained in this one.

it's worth the documentation.

---

bong hits 4 jesus while chewing the fat
there's people i'll never talk to again
but will still love to say their name
in a feverish remembering.

it's all some petty way to feel better
everything i've ever done is to "feel better"
because it's not enough to feel. no.
my body aches and my thoughts are dreary

and all i've known is reality
and yet there is something about ideality
i just
can't
shake.
i jump to conclusions to save my breathe
i fall through insecurity to enter an even more
satin-lined cage
one i've been waiting for
a while now
everything centralized

you used to write words,
ones that were your own
and more contagious than
any other undersucceeding writer
because you know none of us are really
a success.

 either
youre a sparrow born without wings
or
a rotten acrobat.

your words are lighter fluid now.
but there are never flames.
not anymore.
and from this, i question my own abilities.

every time i've touched him
i've never really meant it
and neither did he.
i told myself i was done.
but something leading me back
something bringing me closer

he kissed my forehead. lightly.
with the intent of getting something
an intent i knew all to well
we are always getting things and always feeling better
the kisses soon ran wild all over me
up and down
i pretend to be somewhere else.
it's pitch black, there could be stone walls between us
i push him away, i pull him back
i wanted control.
i wanted control.
i wanted control.
i wanted control.
i never wanted him.

my entire life i've been defying definitions
in my words
and in my actions
the one thing that defined itself to me
is when he was gone and buried.

no more taking shots in the afternoon.
and now they are afraid to say your name in my presence.
they can't mention your name because it's dangerous seeing
beyond things in people than their drinking tolerance
and their favorite movie.

the only way you'll ever be dead is if i forget.
this was all temporary anyways.

hold on to me. forever.

and what i am
is reduced to
what i have done to you.
i want everything inside of you
i want everything inside of you
i want everything inside of you
rip.
out.
your.
cowardice.
and paste it to my walls.
tell me your fucking terrified
tell me you don't know what the hell you are doing
tell me you need me to care that you are ruining everything
even if you won't stop ripping me apart

tell me i havent lived until i've breathed your sighs
tell me i'm the salt in your ocean

a brand new fever
a tiny instance of glory behind my eyelids when i let them surrender
it starts out cleverly
slightly, and inconsistently
an identation rarely noticed

reality draws a blank
when i
open my eyes.

not el fine just yet but here we are anyway

i never used telephones properily. its not that i didnt know how to, but i just never spoke back to the person i called. it was more for the sake social science that i didnt. except when people say they're doing something for a "sake" it's usally a little more selfish than that. id say my reasons were no real exception. you see, when id call a lover, a friend, a complete stranger, i'd learn more from what happened after they learned no one was on the other line than i would have in a conversation.

we tend to hold our secrets dear.

i wanted meat in a world happy with skin and bones.

i couldn't take the everyday exchanges. a currency unfit for my thought patterns. i grew addicted to the heavy confession and even the careless ones. the ones that meant basically nothing but they were something to the person who said them. 

for most of them, it was already too late. in actual conversation i started to know less about someone than from a seemingly one-way explanation. like god had picked up the phone and just beckoned them to speak. and for all they know, it might 've as well been god. 

i couldn't combat the cliches any longer. so i just stopped the pointless banter, the bullshit …….xxxx.

i was talking to the same person. but they had a different face. i saw hegemony in thought and perception. i felt sad and lonely when i was with these dethinkers. 

so id call and call and call. 

the ones who'd hang up in one or two seconds, you knew they'd already been sucked up into the game.

the ones who stuck around for a bit were usually pleasant enough. very timid. mouse-like.

there were the angry ones, too. oh wow the language i heard. men accusing their wives or girlfriends of cheating because of the mysterious calls.

i do apologize for that. though the mistrust must have already been there, i have to point out.

do i seem cocky in anyway, because i'd have to characterize myself as mostly curious.

half-lives

i began to view

(but did not recall)

adversity with an undertone of admiration

and now i know why

forgot what it looked like 

what it felt like

to drool the numbness

while

sucking for air

a fish drowning in water.

not glass segments

too quick

too much carbon

this pain is plastic

blunt but still penetrating

and with a half-life expectancy of years upon years

pushing

pushing

pushing inward 

muscles atrophy

into a relief 

until they wake up by a pang

not sudden

not subscribed

constant

bones saturated with the rationalities

and the plastic permeates a skin 

that's failed it's exoskeletal-like pursuit

how do they depict this

i wonder

then reset:

how fucking dare they attempt to represent this with images 

and futile actors 

who fake experience

until we believe that's what the experience will be when we reach it

they define the destination

fucking poorly.

drive yourself to prison

"drive yourself to prison"

he commented

i had 

a casual grip on the wheel 

---

old

unhappy 

overwieght

drooling thoughts not worth verbalizing

brains oozing into their tidy compartments

daily rituals and obvious defeats

they don't even beckon for something that glitters

their egos are coffee stained 

the discoloration

want to be drunker, deader

debunked, demolished

daily rituals and obvious defeats

they don't even beckon for something that glitters

Drunk inside, turn the pages.

immaculate repression

there's an immaculate account

of all my actions

they dive

deleve

disappear 

even from me

but it is those

who see you as more

than you can even see yourself

who will 

consider what you do

to be worth remembering

and in this way 

you are preserved

you are present

and palpable

i never look around

i never look around

im always

stuck

close

to it

so close i cant see it

but really

i don't want to see it

i 

avoid

i

tremble at the idea of recognition

and so

it sits

waiting to be told

but after it is

do i feel better

or

just lessened

because the burden

doesn't come from the fact that it's there

it emerges when you

can no longer keep it

just to yourself.