I’m not going to smile because I don’t want to mislead you, but I’ll show you these teeth because that seems real. And I’m not deepressed, just so that’s clear. But I’m not happy, either, because it seems weird to be happy with the way things are in the world. I just think that some…
I have a backpack full of weed, and a case almost full of beer, and I’m trying to make it seem like I’m not getting fucked up to suppress my fears. But I am.
I’m sitting on the couch, watching the same TV show that I watched yesterday, and thinking about what exactly I’m doing with myself. Binge watching shit? It’s not even good shit. But everyone else is watching it, and sometimes it feels weird to not do what everyone else is doing, so I keep watching. It’s…
I went to the dog park with my cat in my coat, beause I wanted her to see that the world is bigger than the bare walls of my home, and that there’s more to life than eating the shitty food in her food bowl. Maybe I needed to see it too.
What’s a poem, when a picture can speak without a single letter. What’s a writer, then, but only a sort-of artist. A phony. A fake. A lazy fucking hack. I’m ok with that. I’ve been called worse.
Cleaning Shit / New Year
Someone shit on the floor in the bathroom where I work. Seriously. Someone shit on the fucking floor. And it’s my job to clean it up. Fuck. This isn’t worth minimum wage, I think. But then I clean it up anyway. I wear gloves but it still makes me feel like I need a hot…
Among the Stars
I can remember sitting in the back seat of my parents’ car as a kid, coming home from my grandparents’ house, or back from dinner. I can remember looking through the window at the stars, or looking at my own reflection in the glass, and I can remember not really thinking much of it. I…
When I moved to the suburbs one of the first things that I did was pick a day to do shrooms at the park. It’s the suburbs, they have great parks, and I love doing shrooms outside. So I got some of my friends together, and those friends brought some of their friends, and we…
Write A Poem
Sometimes I get so bored that I just do things, like masturbate, or polish my guitar strings. Sometimes I even clean some stuff, or see how many cream puffs I can shove in my mouth at once. And sometimes, if it gets really bad, I may even write a poem.
I have lotion in the wrinkles of my skin, hoping that I don’t crack from the weather, I mean the pressure of these stressors that control my life, like worrying about if I’m doing enough with myself, or if I’m ever going to finish my book, or… fuck it. There’s not enough Lubriderm in the…