August 2010
I just finished the rough draft of my screenplay....
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I miss you.
I miss what you used to mean to me.
I miss thinking about you all the time.
I miss how important you were to me.
I miss thinking you would always be that important.
I miss the anticipation, waiting to see you.
I miss the way I used to miss you when you left.
I suppose I just miss the idea of you.
It’s so much harder to be extraordinary in this day and time.
No matter what you are doing, or when you are doing it, chances are there will always be someone better than you out there. There always has been.
What makes all the difference, is that now I have only to open my computer, and I am bombarded with the thousands of authors, thinkers, musicians that are so much better than I will...
I keep my cigarettes in a Darth Vadar pencil case.
I’m so thug.
I tried really hard to be happy today.
I definitely looked the part.
But I guess what I’m really trying to say,
Is pretending further breaks my heart.
The World by Charles Simic
As if I were a big old shade tree
On a side street with a small café.
Neon beer sign with the word “cold” shining in it.
Summer dusk.
The solitary customer, who looks like my father,
Is bent over a book with small print
Oblivious of the young waiter
Who is about to serve him a cup of black coffee.
I have an incalculable number of leaves
Not one of which is moving.
It’s because we are...
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Do you ever feel like…
Like you just don’t fit?
Like you keep trying every day to shove yourself into this tiny hole,
But you know you’ll never make it through.
The hole is just the wrong shape, the wrong size.
And everyone else keeps pushing you aside,
To slide easily through the eye of a pin.
Sometimes they stop to sympathize,
But eventually they all go through.
All of...
I'm pretty sure that my mom talks to me more on...
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It’s here.
At that place where you’ve cried all the tears you have in you, and you’ve hyperventilated until it hurt too badly to even try to breathe.
This is where you are.
This is where you slowly start to realize what you have to do. What you have to be.
The shit hit the fan, as they say, and now you have to clean it up.
So grab the fucking mop and bucket, darling! This is...
Everything. It's all gone to shit.
I wake up in the morning and listen to Joan Jett...
Cherry Bomb - The Runaways
Self explanatory.
...
I'm different.
I’m not sure what happened to me.
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I’ve fucked everything up, all on my own.
And yet, I’m so good at this game.
You’re so enraptured with me that you can’t even see how terrible I am.
I offer you poison and you convince yourself it’s merely candy.
You’ll continue to give and I’ll continue to take,
Until you have nothing left.
And you’ll search this room until your fingers bleed...
It's all part of the experiment.
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You spend all of your time pretending,
But when does it stop being an act?
If nothing about you is real,
Then how could you possibly matter to me?
Perhaps I should spend less of my time
Chasing after a fantasy.
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I say I would rather feel pain than nothing at all.
So then why am I purposefully numbing myself?
Every step I take is to keep me from feeling…
Anything.
I am a hypocrite and I don’t even care.
Or maybe I do, but I can’t tell because my emotions have been lost.
Fuck this.
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She wanted a real reason to feel as empty as she did. Needed to feel justified. So, she simply stopped eating, and the hunger built up a newer, stronger emptiness. One with a purpose. A reason. She could go on now because her pain had a name, an explanation.
It was easier that way. If she focused on the gnawing in her stomach, the real emptiness could be forgotten for a while. Pushed aside. She...
I want to go on a vision quest.
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I just keep spinning.
Round, round, faster, faster.
Never stopping, never slowing, everything blurs.
I feel like I’ve been riding the Gravatron at the county fair so long that all of my guts have ended up outside my body and there’s no such thing as up or down.
I can see my chest rising and falling but no air passes through.
I am suffocating.
As miserable as I am, part of me...
Everything.
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Anonymous asked: I am a 19 year-old guy living in Cali. I had not idea that you had a website and the things I found on here bent my outlook on poetry and I thank you for that. I had become accustomed to the usual doom-and-gloom or the happy,happy go go of todays poetry but you did something that i had thought impossible you changed my mind. I see my world changing in front of me for better and worst and your...
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We are the children of a generation long past.
In an age when youth marched the streets out of passion, for their freedom, their world.
When music, drugs, and an idea of free love were changing our worldview.
That passion seems to have been drained from the hearts of my peers.
No longer do we cry out for justice the way we once did.
Our hearts have grown cold, frozen over with capitalism and...
