i can't force myself to write anymore.

trash

everything that i create
is typed out
not handwritten
because i am
a lazy
trite
talentless
angsty teenage boy
i use these recycled poetics to create the illusion
that i may be deep and thoughtful and whimsical
but in reality, all i do is jog around my brain,
picking up trash along the way
and create some kind of ransom note to leave behind
i am a murderer, kidnapper of words
and i will not stop until i have made my bed in bribed money
and am sitting comfortably in a beach chair
somewhere off the coast of fort lauderdale
for the rest of my natural born life

skip a couple of years

drums
consonants
fill our pine tree new england youth with country music
assorted fossils from montana
a change in the background
the hearts that beat for summer nights
but taste the dirt when they get kicked
and feel the buzz so early on
stained your fathers front lawn with my vomit
i'm sorry so sorry
i'll move on now

a poem about being alone with no real meaning or objective

take a break to make plans and clash drinks from empty hands
small steps for men, smaller steps for mankind
unwinding alone on a back porch with friends
fuzzy bearded men and sour gin
sleeping alone on a hardwood floor
being alone in the head and the heart
where i don't have to cut out my tongue and nothing is kept secret
i'd prefer to keep it a promise than a threat
i won't let myself sink in unless time is the quicksand
letting myself be alone is better than any medicine
kept frozen in tupperware and thawed out in the spring
let go of me, i am not any machine
i won't change the world, i won't be anything
decomposure makes a man go blind
deterioration makes the empty heart fonder
desocialization makes the empty head sick
but decoration makes our problems seem meaningless

the ninth

you make my heart beat at different paces
and my skin feel tingly and my stomach feel strange
you appreciate and ignore the plaque in my teeth
or my short thoughts or my inability
to respond to your texts promptly
i'm sorry
but there's nothing to apologize for
you mirror me and add in some details
bringing out the best in a bad situation
i hate my dark clouds but you're my silver lining
silver living, aluminum dreams
i wish i could carve you into stone
but it seems
you're not a mold, or a shape
you're custom, fitting every situation, i keep my heart right here
you can't see it but it's not on my sleeve
and this time it's not in my pocket
but in yours
we're young and innocent and we could build bridges between
gaps in our schedules, but the summer is almost over
and we are just beginning.
you're my best friend and my better, kinder, gentler half
the sort that hasn't been damaged by others
or is expecting to be damaged
the oval to my dull, dull circle
the shading to my primary colors
fills me

caney

sing songs, window panes screaming
scrambling cold blood under thick skin
as you tap the tip, the iv slides in
they love you but they want you to die
just so you can save yourself
i remember the last time is saw you living
but you weren't
you were frozen and your eyes were sewn
bruises forming from blood clots under
your thick skin
and you sat in that same chair i sat in
a million times before, not knowing or caring
your soul would sink into it months later
where you'd watch the television and
invite us in for coffee
surrounded by your warmth through each conversation
half paying attention and half admiration
towards the house you filled with love and antiques
but when your cells starting fighting, you stopped
i feel as though you're still there

sorry i haven't been writing lately. the heat blocks my thought process and i work 5 days a week. also, i'm in the process of moving and getting a new computer but i promise i'll start writing again soon. i've got a story in mind.