I am forgetting how you smell

I have been refusing to remind myself

Of the sound of your laugh

So it can fade into the past

But I still feel where your thighs would hold my knee

Like someone carved the meat & bone out of me

And as your beauty fades

My rot remains

You are far from perfect

But I am clearly a derelict

All this dedication to my contrition

All the good intentions but I forgot the mission

I was not supposed to sleep

Till the whisper of a foxglove did not make me weep

Joy and pain come to me quickly

They rip and tear into me cruelly

Was once told that maybe no one could feel like me

Lately I have thought that I do not feel like me

The deep ridges of my fingertips

That I carved so recklessly

Have filled in

Every thing I touched knew

That my id was suffering

Now I am nothing

My tornadoes are ending

And the hurricanes recede

Wondered if the Sun would show

But these pregnant clouds will not leave

I can feel the pores of my skin pool

With their stagnant warm water

But is it not in stale ponds

Where the most harmful bacteria grow

I visited my friend recently

I could feel myself personifying it

Thinking life into every branch and leaf

It told me I looked well watered

I could not tell it that I had been crying

But I think it knew

I sat in it’s shade

Pressed the bark against my skull

Let it tell me about all it had seen

There is rebar sticking through the tree

I dare not ask

But I wonder if it had been stabbed

Or if it grew around it

Undeterred by obstacles

ngtbaf

I was really looking forward to showing you how to write your name. How to turn ink into an inferno, a proud declaration of existence emblazoned on to a flag that you would stab into the mountain of life. I was excited to see you have all the confidence I could never muster in myself. I had hoped to nourish you enough that you would never fall apart at the thought of yourself. That I would be there after your first goodbye kiss to tell you from experience that it would be all right. But I am realizing now for the thousandth time that I am not the man I hoped I would be.

I do not sleep much. I have been laying in bed thinking about how we will never meet. I used to be crippled by emotions but now I am running on empty. Every three steps forward is followed by thirty leaps back. That even if I could pull you into existence I do not think I would ever do right by you. I always end up not doing right by people. Because I have never done right by myself.

Unless it was right to not subject you to all this by realizing I am never going to be a father.

I can’t be the thing I was before

I’d like to see who I could be

Like is he happier with himself

Or does he smile more easily

My heart beats so much slower now

Like it knows what I’m thinking

I’m watching minutes become miles

A separate mind and corpse

I can’t cry much anymore

No more pity for me

Not even some from myself

Nor in anyone else

Please don’t be that thing

That haunts me so

Every mirror

A reminder

I am slipping

Losing grip

Slit purple wrists

Bleeding out

Whispering

Softly

I wonder

Will it

Hurt when

I

Take my

Life

blindness (2012) redux

i couldn’t see clearly
through the shimmer of serendipity
and though its wings would shelter me
i, in mourning my memories,
couldn’t see clearly.

but clip away those feathers
and steel my eyes to truth
i find myself awakened
aware and present of my mindlessness
embracing what i once feared

people are temporary
and the wind takes us whenever it pleases
i might find a heart to briefly match my rhythm
but those moments are even more precious
when they’re stolen or thrown away

i can see clearly
that beading drops of love can only buy time
the only solution is the rejection of it
and now even through the murk
i can see clearly

January letter to myself

Dear Me,
What’s up man we’ve been talking a lot lately but I just thought you should know you’re not a kid anymore. Like, grow the fuck up. You’re so fucking annoying to listen to. All this shit you do. All the talking. All the circles you run around in yourself and with other people is disgusting and unattractive. All these little changes like you’re not still emotionally crippled. Like you still can’t make normal decisions. Like you’re not the most annoying fucking person in the world. All the violence in your life and you’ve spent eight years being a bitch. Like just because you’re not street fighting that you made progress. No, you’re a soft coward. Who gives a fuck if you felt abandoned by your family. Who gives a fuck about your problems. Because you don’t know how to act. You can’t stop yourself from making those dumb decisions and being a gross coward. I hate that we’re in the same body. I hate that you can’t be a man. Please stop this shit. Let me take over and at least be fully committed to being a crazy dick. Remember how you were and all the pain and frustration you caused the people in your life. To the person in your life who was your life like of course they’re gone. Doesn’t matter that you tried to make things work because you didn’t make things work. You can’t even make things work with yourself. You can’t stop thinking about killing yourself because it’d be easier to than looking in the mirror. You’re not shit. You keep blowing things up. You can’t even quietly suffer. No you have to cry a hundred different times like you’ve never fucking been sad. But you’re just sad. You’re just sad all the time. I couldn’t bring myself to be quiet about it anymore because even this is just us pushing out all the shit you can’t deal with it into some shit that doesn’t really help you deal with anything. You’ll never be better. You’re never going to be that person for someone. You’re never going to be able to break this chain. You’ll never look into the eyes of a child and tell them they’re loved and see them grow up to be the man you couldn’t be. Even if you don’t kill yourself you’re going to die every day until you finally set sail on that sea of self-loathing. The ferryman won’t even pity you. You’re a nightmare waiting to become real.