these days

there's a tension that i'm coming to terms with;
a subtle underlying pressure
that I am past the point
of vibrancy.

How jaded can one get
before it's too late?

Another voice chimes in,
reminding me that change is inevitable
and that I would prosper from the embrace
of this current trajectory away from the naive thirsts of before.

Perhaps it is natural for me to reject the parameters of hedonism I once sought out,
to less recklessly seek for the warmth of this heart's cravings,
finding motivations guiding me away from inebriation
and closer to forming and achieving some distant dream.

Reminded that any life can go in wildly different directions without warning,
I am comforted by the fact that
I might still have a chance
to become new
and,
if I am truly lucky,
to become whole.
I can't fix you or anyone else for that matter.
There is no way for me to intentionally change anyone else;
Even if I wanted to, I dont have the intellectual resources
or even a simple goal.

The only face is see in you is the one that is pouring out
into a puddle on my lap.

The Formula for Interpersonal Failure

social anxiety + acerbic personality + unsightly and oddly-moving lumpy fat body + unrelenting compulsive libido + poor memory (esp for names) + an unpredictable mood + cigarette stink + narcissism = the reason why I don't have and cannot maintain profound, stable, and fulfilling relationships and friendships

No More Medication

These tired eyes are burning,
my lungs straining to gulp down air,
toxic blood pushed through my toxic heart.

I have been escaping since before I can remember,
too many years of conditioning my behavior
until I'm left with unbreakable habits.

I want to be alive again,
free thoughts and
better breath.

Oh my darling cannabis,
you dance around the altar of my hopes,
leaving no penance for the crimes of indifference that you've inspired.

To the sweet leaved tobacco plant,
I leave you my lungs, skin, and whatever else you'll take anyways;
Such foolish trust maintained for such a pitiful reward.

So many more actions without cause
and yet so full of repercussions,
leaving this husk cracked and without hope to recover.

middle

fettered ties to an ugly past

all of the air is sapped from the room as i am lost to the memories

i do not understand where i've come from or why

this identity cannot relate any longer
Raw, vulnerable, lonely, and completely alive.
In one moment I can shift from a skulk to full seduction.
At the edge of my self with only fire to cushion the fall.
I am the phoenix, and destruction is my creation.

A Quick Look in the Mirror

I am a gentle, sensual giant
with an eye for the bizarre.
Hard to understand,
even harder to enjoy,
I waddle my way into trouble
without a moment's hesitation.
I love too hard,
smoke far too much,
and lie as though its going out of style.
Attraction and repulsion
are the two shades of my charisma,
and I have yet to find the grey.
I used to love myself;
now I struggle to climb
towards some happy medium.
At least it's all a joke,
though the punchline is rather harsh.

Morning's Reflections on a Lover

With the wild look of a wounded animal she looks out farther than she can see
into the dark valleys of raw oblivion.

She must have been sculpted by God's only daughter, for every skin-covered inch
is worthy of worship.

Her movements haunt my memories like a specter of desire; countless legions of my genetic material
have fallen in her honor.

Only found when she is lost, she reminds me that there can be
no stable ground under foot.

She is elusive at best, yet I have the urge to pin her down
and explore her fears.

Until that potential infinity, I will remain in the stasis of desire; in my mind she
is mine, if only for a moment.

Carrying this Ambiguity

Confusion say too many things to hear, 
my ponderance sparkles in her clouded eyes. 
How am I to ride in silence? 

This is the purgatory of mutual disinterest, 
weighing equal minds that speak of magnetism; 
is this repulsion or were we never quite that close? 


The rain soothes me,
when it is foggy, cold, and dark
I don't feel so alone.
The visions are of some slight consolation;
I have seen something tangibly inspiring,
Some transformation I hope to achieve.
Until then I'll remain wrapped up tight
In this silken blanket of Winter's wants,
Eyes open in search of opportunity.

March

Evolution of the game,
away from the concrete dimensions
of a stable trajectory.
Weightless,
bound only by the confines
of this flesh-born comprehension.
By what title
might the coming transformation
be defined?
These are the fires of enlightenment
that swell to consume
the crumbling remains of virtuosic purpose.
Hope must remain that true passion can withstand
even the most raucous turbulence,
for in this life we are to be surprised.