Not Yet

Because I’m not ready

You’re not ready

It hurts

The way frustration hurts

The way sadness informs

Subterranean and dark

Did you feel good when you woke up

that you spoke up

that you vented

That you told me why

The why matters

My fingertips still trace paths

And my heart still remembers rhythm

I feel it and I felt it

hanging onto it

but just barely

the way water runs off a peach


It Begins

I'm thickening my skin
Building my armor 
Plates of steel and iron
Coating myself against it all
Protected defended

too much
I won't feel anything
no point
No sensation at all

So I am thickening my skin
With leathers and pelts
stronger skins than mine
Tied closely fitting snugly over me
a newer better improved me

But still yet
I won't be able to move or stretch
Bend or flex 
an immobile version of myself 
I won't even be myself

So I am thickening my skin
Though I am not quite sure how
I will think it thick
Imagine it tougher
Make it what it needs to be
What I need it to be
Want it to be 
For me to be
Who I want to be.


rich Rich poor Rich

Though affluent with her love
I felt hollowed out and muggy
Her love around me
Rising up in me
And cloudy
Like a haunting in my chest
Like a memory with a scratch in it that won't stop skipping
The same line over and over again.
Like a mint that was made of razors
Like an orgasm made of possiblies
Like a sweetness born of acid rain
Like a smile born of apathy

Like tears made of gravel
Like sadness made of honey
Like a maybe made of definitely
Like a definitely made of never
Like the love we made together
Like the sex we never had
Like the sex we made together
Like the love we never had
Like the pot you smoked that I didn't
Like the fear I inhaled that you hadn't
Like an insecurity built in Roman times
Like a seasonal laughter's end
Like a fire carved in yesterday
Like a bitterness carved in stone
These memories are my albatross
These memories haunt me endlessly
And they won't leave me alone.


Come to Connecticut

I’ve been invited to share my thoughts on things
Me, a master of singularity and unpurchased rings
But what I have to offer is written in sand
I’m a boy, a man, a mixture of things I don’t quite yet understand
And yet I speak louder than some, much louder than most
But I fear prostheltizing and shy just short of boast
I forget more than I remember
And I cling to my summers well past September
And if I’m self fulfilling my prophecy
Then I’ll have to take more than partial responsibility
For allowing myself to posture and plead
For the things I know I think I need
When I’m quite sure I’m already in possession of all my tools
And should relinquish my captainship on this ship of fools
And I’ll avoid giving a life lesson
Aphoristic Metaphorical pseudo musings full of cognitive indigestion


Gabby Had a Bad Day

And the things we thought could harm us
And the things that brought us down
And the people that walked over us
And those things that burned our souls
They fade much like fog does
Leaving things clearer once gone


I Dreamed a Dream

he thought the thoughts he'd always thought he'd think
and though the things he thought were quite the same as always
the way he saw it happening had changed

because he'd never really thought through his fantasy
his fantasy was a fallacy he'd never seen through to completion
he didn't know how to end it

so he'd think it through
or so he thought
but he really had only done half the journey

but when he finally thought his way
all the way through
he found himself thinking something he could never have anticipated

he wasn't interested in the fantasy anymore

because of lazy incompletion or self abbreviating deletion
lies he told to himself or imposed upon the universe
the ending was nothing like the beginning

and while he thought he still liked those thoughts
now that he had completed them
they left him feeling quite incomplete
and he couldn't compete with the overwhelming sense of emptiness he felt

now that his fantasy was through

And On and On

I've given up on the rest of my life
I've figured out I just can't do it
It's too much to think about
Too much to worry
It puts my mind in a constant state of hurry
And that's no way to live
In fact
Its a good way to die
And nobody should be thinking about a good way to die
Unless they're about to

I've given up on the the rest of my life
Because its making my insides hurt
Thinking too much about the future
Is like thinking about too much about the past
It makes you miss the present
So if I worried about the rest of my life
For the rest of my life
I'd have no life left to live
I would only worry about a good way to die
Because I'd be there

I've given up worrying about the rest of my life
Because it hasn't gotten me anywhere


Stutter Start

I'm timing my haircuts
Around breakups
Self inflicted
Emotional Hiccups

Be it a fuckup
A loved one
Be it my fault
What I've done
I'm starting myself a new
The only way I know how to

A visceral emotional purging
Or just a painful manifestation
A latent insecurity surging
An emptying of mind and feeling
Hitting my maturation ceiling

I''ll change my look
I'll change how I see
I'll change so hard
I'll barely be me
I'll work on the edifice
What's easier to do
Easier than getting past, over, or beyond

Lost weight
Faux swagger
An ignored fragility
I'll keep moving faster
Pretending I have something to offer
Not an emotional pauper
Not a shell of a self impressed former self
Pursuing the illusion of fine over health

And ignored pain
And skipped over tears
Circumnavigated discomfort
As I've done for years

I'll busy myself
With things that don't matter
Treating myself
As moldable matter
That's lacking a center
That's lacking a core
A soulless self center
That will always need more

Just furthering along a me
That I no longer need to be