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With striking blue eyes

The color of a tropical ocean

Your face softened as you said,

“With a smile like that,

You can change the world.”

I thought the same thing.

Your smile ruled my world

And changed it forever.

I would give up all my money

Be it coin, paper or bitcoin

Just to see that damned smile.

If only you knew

How much I love you.

Please get better, my junkie friend

I dont want to see your life end.

star light. star bright.

Scattered sparkles blanket the night

As the desert sun lowers with the sky.

Coyotes howl and owls screech

As humanity dies down,

Animals come to life.

The sky stretches across the horizon

Eating up every image in the distance

And the stars seem so close

I know I could swallow one

If I tried.

Only in the absence of civilization

Can I find reprieve in nature’s mystique.

lucifer wins.

Lucifer sits, overdue on his bills

Treading through shit,a home turns into Hell.

Rubbing his sore skull, full of dull rage;

He’s now a poor soul, decayed with age.

Rotten horns rest next to worn wrinkles

Red ink spells threats, crumpled and crinkled.

Electric plug-ins, water prices—

Rusty budgets, new money heists.

Necessities, now in collections...

Water, heat, and A/C expenses.

.

The demon grieves loss of sacrifice

So he cries, pleads into the grey night:

Without cash, purpose is a lost cause

Our world is trash with a hostile God.

.

The devil wins when we lose focus

Our Earth still spins, for what’s important.

.

God betrays our trust in confession—

Demons pray we learned our lesson.

burnt umber.

I knew our budding relationship

Had fallen prey to comfortability

When your hazel mahogany eyes

So full of life, curiosity and mystery

Faded, day by day

Into a monotone umber

As burnt out as

Our small-minded chit-chat.

Such tedium we allowed

To infiltrate and infest

Uninspected gaps of our time.

Twisted instinct told us

It stayed soft on our spirits

To cruise through talks on autopilot.

Surface-level dialogue

Ended up easier on our minds

Until the infection grew

To consume interest in me and you.

Your brilliant eyes

Once an intricate redwood forest

Have been whittled down

Into a single, flat shade.

Burnt umber.

Long stretches of disinterest

Never opening up, neither me nor you

Has distorted itself into

A malignant apathy

That's come between

Me and you.

the art of not giving a fuck.

the world is full

of people

who don’t

give a fuck.

people roaring

down the interstate

porsche drop top

blaring nicki minaj’s

latest hit.

sidewalk people and their carts

full of treasured garbage

wearing one weathered shoe

and three crusted socks.

two extremes

with similar

underlying principles.

which will i

grow to become?

A Prisoner & a prostitute

you are a prisoner

an ex-prisoner, anyway

and i am a prostitute

an ex-prostitute, i should say.

you are also

my ex-boyfriend.

.

lots of words

scribbled on our psyche

used to define

who we are.

words scratched out

Thief.

Liar.

Punk.

Loner.

Boyfriend.

.

but people change

and with them

their labels.

.

but certain phases

aren’t phases

and cause enough

of a psychic shift

that they

stick

no matter

how hard

you scrub

your mind.

.

you can only press a pencil

so deep into the paper

before even the best of erasers

can’t fully erase the evidence

of what word

you chose.

.

so

you will always be a prisoner

i will always be a prostitute.

that is the way

it must be.

home depot homeless.

Its 4 am

I’ve drifted asleep

You’re still not here

I’m sprawled out

In a cement corner

I woke up

Hips bruised from the concrete

My backpack was gone.

Earlier that day, I lost my phone.

And now you, too, are missing.

A kind stranger asks if I’m okay

I tell him I am.

It’s okay to lie sometimes.

Everything I own is gone

My journals

My ID

My integrity

And you, too.

The only thing left

That wasn’t forgot, or stolen

Is my guitar.

Why they didn’t steal it

I have no idea

It’s certainly worth more

Than dirty clothes

And scribbled notes.

Worth more

Financially

Anyway.

But I’d give everything

To get those journals back.

IDs and debit cards

Can be replaced.

Art cannot.

Green Guts

Brain full of slime

Body slowed by bile

Clothes dripping with grime

Like it’s going out of style.

I bleed onto the page

My stress leads me astray

And as night turns to day

I reek more and more like an ashtray

goodbye.

I don't know how

The world expects

To keep spinning

Without you

In my life.

You were there

To wrap me up

And sing me to sleep

And by my side

Within arm's reach

When I woke up.

You've been there

To help me along

Through the hardest

Tragedies

And to celebrate

Every pleasantry.

You've always been there.

You were there for me

When my dad had his stroke

And I couldn't make it

To the hospital.

You sat with me

For six hours

Coaxing me through

My snot bubbles and sobs.

You've always been there

Through every break-up

And every job offer

Through every death

You've been in my life.

Without you

I have no identity

And no inkling

At who I might be.

You've guided my path

And shown me

How to trudge through

The ugliness

Of the world.

What would I do

Without you?

sing to me.

She's got lullaby eyes

And a velvet heart

Her skin is porcelain

Destroyed by track marks

I am a puzzle piece

Lost under the couch

I am a thunderstorm

During a dry drought

I look down at my needle

After calling it evil

I shove the syringe

Deep into my skin

give up.

My life is just one big

“Whatever, that's

Good enough.”

Because I am

The perfectionist

Who gave up.

.

And I couldn't

Have done

A healthier thing

For my spirit.

Giving up

Is a beautiful thing.

house of cards.

I romanticize my pain

Under the pretense

It will make me stronger.

I want to be

A giant stone wall

Guarding a castle

Of glorified royalty.

But nothing lasts forever.

Instead I become

Atrophied brick

Crumbling down

To the ground.

Even the strongest

Structures and defenses

Will collapse

Under enough pressure.

All it takes is time.

hooker and a hobo.

You were waiting for me

At a motel

In Long Beach

It was my first time alone

In a long time.

Fresh out of detox

Newly sober off heroin

With $1500 burning

A hole in my

Shallow brain.

But I had no phone

No clothes of my own

And it was pouring rain.

I found my way to you

Through the kindness

Of some ignorant stranger

Who pitied me

Walking in pants

Four sizes too big

Rain dripping

To the floor

Drenched down

To my bitter

Junk bones.

I found you in that motel

And we stayed awake

For three days.

My socks smelled

From sweat and

The heroin I hid from you

In the socks I wore

That I borrowed from you.

You were hooking on the side

I was too scabbed and bad

To be of much help.

But I had some dirty money

Caked in the grey grime

Of my unwashed pocket.

So I was okay.

With no shower

No phone

And no sleep.

Just keep me high,

Please keep me high.

avoid.

We were going

To a bonfire

And a bookstore

So I could show you

Some Bukowski.

But plans always fail

For vagrants like us

The bonfire was cancelled

And the bookstore

We gave up on.

So instead

We went to a parking lot

Empty cement

Surrounded by a church

We took our two guitars

And ran into a minister

Speaking of God.

He prayed for us

(A prayer I didn't want

But probably needed)

And he spoke

Of his fifteen years

Spent in prison.

People can change.

But for now

I prefer parking lots

And parks

To spend my time

Focusing on

The greasy strings

Of my guitar.

Rather than

Dealing with

All the plans failed.

Just give me my time

To create more mistakes

And I promise

I will change too.

haunted.

I need loud music

So no stray thoughts

Can haunt my hollow skull

Without permission.

I need fast cars

So I can spit in the face

Of a death so close

That I feel alive again.

I need long nights

So I can succeed

In all the hobbies I love

But ignore during daylight.

I need love

So that I can feel

Something other than

All my failures.

gutter punk.

You fill up the room

With echoes of your banjo.

The tin hum of plucked strings

Rattle around in my skull.

.

It's dark in this room.

Windows stay shattered

From a storm long, long ago

When this hollow house

Was once a home.

Someone unknown to us

Sweeps broken glass

Off the burnt carpet.

It's useless trying

To clean this place up.

.

Mold’s distinct stench

Fills up our nostrils.

We don't notice it.

We’re used to it.

.

Above right where you're sitting

Dsitinct dents in the wall

From a rambunctious night

When we decided a hammer

Would help us

Feel better.

.

It did.

For about five minutes.

But it's okay.

No one cares

About this place anyway.

.

The electricity is gone

There's no running water.

The front door

Doesn't shut anymore

And now every night

When we come home

The door is wide open.

Every night I can't tell

If we're being robbed

Or whether the wind

Is just playing a nasty trick on us.

.

Now you strum your banjo

Unaware of my staring eyes

As I analyze our life

And what lead us

To this condemned den.

lone wolf.

Attempts at sleep

Remind me

That a thick cloud

Called loneliness

Follows me around

Everywhere I go.

Especially when I'm

Alone.

.

What should be

Arms hugging me

Is instead

Crushing weight

Panic setting in

Knowing I'm

Alone.

.

Distract me with those

Pretty words you use

To calm my nerves

And help me hide

My ugly lies

From the truth

I find

Alone.

.

Even Anne Frank

In the attic

Had her family

And what does that mean

For me?

Being so far

From home,

Dreadfully

Alone.

.

I try to suppress

Any emotions I have

But a little more everyday

They leak through the cracks

And show you

I'm so scared

Of being

Alone.

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