Just Things I’ve Written

These are all small writing bits I’ve created over the past few years. Nothing professional quality, just expressions of myself

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

What is happiness?

Is it the presence of joy? Or is it the absence of melancholy?

Are those two separate? Or are they linked?

What is intelligence?

Is it the presence of knowledge? Or is it the absence of ignorance?

Are those two separate? Or are they linked?

What is life?

Is it the presence of breath? Or is it the absence of death?

Are those two separate? Or are they linked?

What is love?

Is it the presence of companionship? Or is it the absence of loneliness?

Are those two separate? Or are they linked?

What is meaning?

Is it the presence of purpose? Or is it the absence of apathy?

Are those two separate? Or are they linked?

What is the future?

Is it the presence of tomorrow? Or is it the absence of yesterday?

Are those two separate? Or are they linked?

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

His hands are warm, his eyes are green,

His smile’s innocent, jokes obscene.

His mustache on mine when we kiss,

We stay an hour, full time in bliss.

His arms’ a world that I would take

The rest of life just to explore.

His clothes are soft but still they’d make

Far better comforts on his floor.

For he is comfort, I am cool.

And We are fire, our bodies fuel.

Just bone and skin, without, within,

Our heaven is our only sin.

Our heaven is our only sin.

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

Scratch the skin until it bleeds,

knuckles dragging on the plaster,

Cut myself up open deep,

still can’t find what I am after.

Blood on blood on nail on bone,

Pulling wide the seam of entry,

Take me back and take me home,

System failure of the century.

Sinew, muscle, hot and wet,

Don’t stop now i’ll grasp it yet.

I’ve grown bark around myself, each layer I must peel.

I go until my sight blacks out, I go until I feel.

And no it’s never enough,

never enough,

never enough,

never enough.

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

When I was born, an x-ray found a hole was in my chest.

The doctors tried to plug it up and Lord I know they did their best.

But artificial saline only fills the void so well,

And now i sit close by to you to try to fill the well.

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

What desire I have to soothe you,

To slow your heart’s restless rhythm,

Yet I am constrained by fear,

Afraid I’ll cross some line and break the thread

That endlessly ties within us.

You’d never hurt me on purpose, right?

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

Four thousand miles across the ocean,

And still our thoughts

Are intertwined

Four thousand miles across the ocean,

And yet your eyes

Stare into mine

There’s something solid that connects us,

Electric pulse

And cable lines

Four static months since we’ve met up,

But your signal’s clear

I see the signs

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

I love the metallic taste in my mouth after a nosebleed,

Fucked my best friend on my couch to fill my own needs,

A fist is like a kiss on the mouth until you can’t breathe,

Swallow it don’t spit it out, wipe it with your sleeve.

Suck down my pride, embrace the violence of our clashing teeth.

First blood is mine, try not to cry, that’s not how boys should be.

Say you’re getting tired of deciphering the in-between,

Just put your body on me and I’ll say when to stop being mean.

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

When ancient lips jumble words and names like a bag of bones,

When shaking limbs frustrate all efforts to put thoughts to word,

When sight had failed and sound has paled to a ceaseless drone,

When mind is dumb, sensation numb, and all my speech is slurred,

No act of time can ravage away the truth that I hold,

That I am yours, and yours, and yours, until my body’s cold.

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

I swallow my past until my stomach can’t take it, vomiting up my anguish and grief in the loss of the spirit even as the body remains.

The knowledge that though these eyes still see and these lungs still breathe, the sensation of yesterday is forever beyond reproduction.

For time warps all, and the face-masks of my younger self drift deeper from what they once were, slowly crossing that endless river of oblivion.

Once, the tide had lifted the black shapeless mass into sharp relief, but now even the ripples of the crested wave had faded back into the choppy water.

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

I’ve been working on two songs recently! Both have their lyrics finalized/nearly finalized, and I’ve already begun laying out the chord structure for one of them. I might post the lyrics to one or both of them here before I am finished, but posting a rough recording of each song is my goal!

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

A Small Toil for Joy. Me, 2022.

I grew a berry in my home.

Cared for from vines,

Coaxed from the blackened soil,

Watered and basking in sunlight.

A small toil for joy.

Calling me, it’s dulcet flesh

Tempting me like a siren,

But my patience was thick and unyielding.

A small toil for joy.

The turgid skin turned white-green, white-pink, and finally blushed wine red.

“Now,” it beckoned,

“Your patience is rewarded.

Your labor has bloomed.

Reap what you have sown.”

The drooping vine gave its bounty readily.

Even in death, the fruit greedily begged to nourish the lips who gave it life.

Instead, I pass the juicy object to my kin.

There, the temptation is sated.

A small toil for joy. But not mine. Ours.

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

A verse from a song i’m writing:

Your neighbor’s house is burning to ash,

But insurance pockets all the cash.

No money for bail but bail for the moneyed,

Growing richer in tragedy, isn’t it funny?

Too old to be young, too young to be old,

Too grown to settle down and do what we’re told.

Treated like children who have to clean up our messes,

But the ones who fucked it all up have names and addresses.

[fragmentsofnotebookpaper]

No Rebound, me. 2022

Sorry I didn’t reply,

Sunlight felt too good on my skin.

Weather me with wind and heat,

UV is life’s best medicine.

I’m stronger today than last week.

Not your flower to wither and wilt.

Should’ve never questioned my masculinity,

When you’re the one wearing the kilt.

We’re all sticks in the grass in the end,

I won’t be a twig when it’s my turn.

We’re bundled together you son of a bitch,

All we faggots are sure gonna burn.