If there isn’t anything nice to say,there isn’t anything to say,or so the mothers keep telling me. And if I believed them,there wouldn’t be a single word I’d say about myself. but here I am,ranting at all hours,at all lengths,about just how shitty I am.
Post Type Archives: Poems
Untitled #89 (2015)
Really, I haven’t loved anyone since I came out.Not in that dumb sloppy head-over heels way,and I don’t know if it’s growing upor if I let someone teach me to hate my own desires. And I’m tired of other people choosing who I’m out to,And I’m tired of having to worry about it. I just …
Untitled #85 (2015)
Lived a long(*) life,got long while yet to go,ain’t ever met a tree,that didn’t have some reasonfor the bark. ain’t a need for apologizin’,what the world taught you to carry. *Strain, Dipple, et al.: Ha, that’s hardly true!You need to show your sources Mr. Kennedy.
Untitled #84 (2015)
ain’t quite sure when my echo started callin’ me darlin’,just like I can’t remember when the saturation got muted,or when it all started hazin’ out like weighted rain. there ain’t a flavor I’ve spit out in years,but I ain’t been much for the savor either. ‘n it’s been years since I been more than pricked …
Untitled #78 (2015)
I refuse to talk, like when I was a little kid in the principle’s office slamming my head over and over against the drywall, feeling my teeth rattle with everything I couldn’t seem to make them understand.
Untitled #712 (2014)
Tonight is one of those rare nights when I feel sexy.I shouldn’t,and where anyone here but me,I wouldn’t,unwashed from yesterday,I smell,and I’m covered in who knows what,but I look at my reflection in the window,and I like what I see. I’m proud.
Untitled #711 (2014)
ladies and gentlemen,I will be your tutor tonight.do not mind the whiskey on my breath,and let’s all take a quick smoke break to start us off right. But first, let’s talk about poetry while I clean my pipe.Do you have trouble getting into the meat of a poem? jesus this Stem just won’t come off!the …
Untitled #710 (2014)
she tasted like that myth of the open road,‘n she was inked with nostalgia. ‘n she loved my work, so I loved her too.
Untitled #708 (2014)
I have been handed a note: If you would like to live, like the royals of old, you must remember, do as you’re told. poems are for poets, as it should be, stay away from this contest, …
Untitled #706 (2014)
There’s smoke/s/ in my pocket, and she’s |just like| the other girls, complex and wonderful, and(, and, and) a delight to be trusted to touch. and you’re /damned right it’s going to be a cold winter, but she’s warm and writhing with that passion undulation, and she looks at …
