Sunday, September 13, 2015

If I could manage not to Fuck This Up

Snap my neck and spine
Tell everyone I'm just fine
Grandma calls on the phone
Put out the Marlboro so she doesn't hear me draw
Breath at random intervals as I crawl
Towards nicotine the ruler
But it's better cancer when I'm 40 than cutting my body open every night

Put my cigarette out on my arm just to feel something
I can't feel anything for days but the sting
Of the harm I've caused others and myself
Should I jump off the Sewickley bridge or OD?
Sorry that last line didn't rhyme
I'm just trying to be honest for once, I really only have time
To feast and smoke and be merry
I'm not gross any more but really will anyone marry
This gross shell of a human
Autocorrect is my friend
Because my thumbs are clumsy
Even though I quit drinking

But maybe I should go back
I miss the warm feeling
But I'm not in the head for indulging
I gave that one away a long time ago

Different faces for different people
I've dropped out and maybe it's best that way
Take another drag until I feel the heat on the filter
And even then

"Never give up
Keep fighting!"
They told me repeatedly in the hospital
But for some sick reason I'm enjoying this spiral into mania and sadness

I'm so anxious
I can't breathe 
Someone help

Thursday, April 9, 2015

All You Can Do

Watching the cigarette smoke escape my lips
Dancing in the car before I open the window
Why can't I light something with the wind blowing?
Sucking down carcenogens to make myself light headed and nicotine high because I've given up all else
Wondering if I left the ward too soon

Forgetting my pills in my car and washing the tobacco from my teeth and mouth and hair and clothes
I just want my friends and my family back
Suicidal idolations of being stabbed in the back
Watching my life burn away as the cancer sticks I swore I'd never touch come closer and closer to burning my fingertips

If I ever feel better I'll make a difference
I promise I will
I swear on my grave plot that I have fantasized about but haven't purchased
Listening to sad songs about happy people and vice versa
Is this poetry anymore?
Who am I anymore?

Therapy twice a week now but I haven't talked in about a minute
Minute differences dancing between the brake lights forming into stars from the tears in my eyes
I only cry when I'm moving forward
And this is a big step
Forward or backward I'm not positive
But being negative doesn't help

I just want to be okay
Promise me I'll be okay

Tuesday, March 31, 2015


Open up into the expanse of the countryside;
make me brand new
Naked trees stand and shiver waiting in the cold;
in the most crowded subway, I feel as if it is just me and you
No New World Order could ever take our love away;
as iridescent lights flit across the sky
i know now it is for you and I
as the moon man speeds away detecting no intelligent life
our hearts are bonded with love and nothing can break that
so take mine, and please don't forsake that

Thursday, February 5, 2015

everyone get out

i wish i could tell everyone in my life to just fuck off
to get out because im a mess and its all collapsing
everything ive ever done is coming back to stab me in the back
the lies i told under pressure
the help i received because i thought it was the only one
spending the next three-quarters of the life ive already lived in chains and in shackles
make me a slave!
fucking 12 years basically!
maybe i'll get some time off for good behavior
but i'm already planning on overdosing six months down the road
and becoming a drunken mess in two days

i'd much rather put a bullet in my brain than face the music
because it's already so loud and i can't control what i do or say
well i can because i've become so adept at telling lies
and i'm not going to publish this piece for
they say i'll be shackled
i can't follow my dreams
i can't do anything

i just wanna sell out my funeral and i doubt i will get three people with the way life is going
and that's including me and the pastor by the way
i wanna just go to my happy place which i'm not allowed to anymore
my parents are going to be dead by the time i have kids now
and i won't get to know my grandkids

i was just happy to be a contender until i realized what exactly that meant
lately i've been wondering which mile marker it will be that i turn the wheel so i get stuck under an 18 wheeler so it'll crush me
or what barrier i'll run into when i want to end it all because i can't put up with this goddamned stress anymore
or what side of the tunnel i'll be on-- inbound or out-- that i'll ram my car into the concrete going 74.6 miles an hour
because pills and knives don't excite me anymore like they used to

are my parents going to inherit the debt? the debt of the car that i used to kill myself?
i wonder how much my life insurance will pay out?
that's exciting to think about-- the fact that i'm worth more to a number in a cubicle than i am to myself
if i'm in an airport, and you're in a hospital bed, does that mean that suicide by cop is the same as dying alone?

because cops are known to shoot more and more these days
hey! over here! i fucking hate you! i stole a cigar! shoot me in the head 6 times please!
i yell as i brandish the toy gun on the playground
as i am kneeling on the sidewalk in a chokehold

all i want to do is get higher than you'll ever be
and smoke more than you'll ever be known to see
and drink more than my liver allows
and die quicker than someone who is in a permanent state of drowse

pull the fucking plug!
let me go, one last hug!
pull the trigger, i'm the last of 6 in a game of russian roulette!
this is finally my last pirouette! 

half-baked and completely raw

there's a bottle of melatonin sitting in my kitchen
four steps away there's a half-finished bottle of wine
and im afraid to take the pills because i might sleep through class
and if i mix it i'll sleep through life

there's a bottle of diet pills sitting in my car door
four inches away there's a pedal that could lead to my death
and im afraid to take the pills because i have to drink 12 cups of water or else i'll wither away
and if i do im still shrinking

at my parents' house there's a basket of pill bottles on the top of the fridge
aborted remedies that never actually worked because i still feel like this
and my dad asks if i need some to get through the day
and i decide not to tell him about the time i tried to take them all to cure myself once and for all

in my phone there's an app where all i do is swipe right
and hope to god that someone wants me back
because somedays i feel like a god
and the rest i wish i had the guts to put rocks in my pockets and go for a swim

im one day away from being a martyr
im one mistake away from being a coward
im one memory away from being a prisoner
im one heart away from being loved

Sunday, January 11, 2015

screams from an otherwise perfect and happy life.

one more month of freedom.
one more year of sadness.
one more decade of changelessness.
one more century of decay.

the horns blare as i drive head on into traffic on 376 west
dodging and weaving through the oncoming headlights i try my best to avoid the inevitable

i havent been myself in so long
but i am now truly who i was so many years ago yearning to be

i am happy i am free i am sad i am me
i am the man that i wanted to be
i dont fall in love with every girl i meet
i fall in love with no one
im icy cold and firey hot

i try to be poetic in life but end up fucking it up
today is a day just like any other
but today is the first day of the end of the rest of my life

one more month. 

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

dead bird.

witty retorts come out of my mouth but the emptiness is unavoidable
the rotting brain fused with the pavement from the pressure of feet and tires
stays no matter how long ago the minimum wage worker scrapped it off

the unavoidable consequences are upon us and i want to know
if death is part of this cycle
im not taking my pills anymore.

it seems like everyone is leaving
and not paying attention
i cry out but no one gives a fuck.

drunk her says i talk too much so i back off but its hard
sober him doesnt respond when i tell him i miss him
unregulated me doesnt go to therapy because nothing she can say will ease the pain.

ive gained back weight
probably because im so fucking terrible
and deserve to be an ugly husk of a soul.

lately i wish i could fly away
but with these wings clipped
i doubt i could even soar for an inch after jumping out of my 12th floor room.

damn i bet people would be sad
but i wouldnt care because its not for them
they dont have to be me.

i need to take my pills again.
im should go back to my room and take them.
but what if i break the seal and soar?

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

portrait of myself

'the blood is so realistic'
'the whites of his eyes are so white, as if a pill crushed'
'the blues painted with his soul'

cut up and used every part of my being
crushed and maimed and destroyed
put back together into something tragically beautiful

what the fuck did i just pick up??
a piece of my body falling apart?
it reminds me of the texture when i was being hurt

goo oozing out of my soul
my eyes are empty and hollow
as are the bones that i wish would break

im 12 floors up and i can jump out of this window
open the levers and push and jump
but its too easy

how can i be so perverse for a hopeless romantic?
sans romance
im a hopeless pervert

sexually repressed and emotionally regressed
back to when i was hurting and hurt
myself and drank it away

swallow the pain that you caused and cause
and effect those around you with your pitiful suicide notes
in class you think everyone hates you but youre wrong

fucking programmed for failure
since the age of 3
why did i want to go to the closet in the first place?

that hollow fucking stare
that hollow fucking mixture
the hollow fucking act of desecration

and all these fucking thoughts racing around in my head
cant pierce the veil of how much i want you to be back here
distance is a terrible fiend

Thursday, March 6, 2014


the breakdown in the
trumpet section
as the first
for dominance
over the oppressed
reed players
the soft clarinet
squeaks as its crushed to death
from the giant tuba dancing