Lifestyle
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my problem is I love to be brokenhearted
Because it seems as if I search for it in everything I create and come in contact with. I know now it’s not for poetry but stems from the pain that dwells within me. Is this sad or life? I no longer seek anything outside of me other than the…
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When will it get old?
The more days that pass it’s me that ages. I stuff myself in holes of immaturity and self doubt, buying my way into the fancies of life. When will it get old? Maybe in due time—maybe never. I don’t mind the fits of sadness and despair—craving, desire, and moments of…
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Stream of Consciousness #2
this is a stream if consciousness one I was never good at streams of consciousness but conscious in the unconscious how could I have known? conscious but not conscious, conspicuous indeed. Soft layered flasks torching singling circling loving word bladder blabber dripping off noses of random words and skin this…
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I’M BLOW TORCHING MY LIFE
AND IT’S ALL ON PURPOSE! Action. Real action; is all I crave. Why must I be like this? A poet? at best. An ARTIST of life; painting my days as the most beautiful gruesome scene there is. Art. HA! Something I know nothing of—-sure. And that is why while you’re…
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Keep the streets empty for me
There’s nothing more prevailing than the silence. Biting of the lips until they bleed dripping on unknown territory. It doesn’t matter what you tell me anymore I’ve lost myself to the night. At this point I’ll never tell you my purpose for I don’t know. I have always been in…