Is it meaningless

To speak of the joy of poetry

What it brings

To share the art of words


In artistic ways


With you,

My audience?

Is it meaningless

To speak of it


Is it stupid


To spend an entire poem

Talking about poetry?

Lesser of Love

I didn’t come here to

Read I didn’t come

Here now

How you love me

You love me

You say you love me here now

How it goes that without it

Without your love I am naught but how

Knowing that life is a fragility of breath that sowing voice into

My mind may say Hello Lover to you

How I avow that you knew too little when you parted ways with


How you are distracted by my infinity still to silence


The lesser of two paths

The lesser of pity glum


I like walks through the woods with my brother and mother

I like my brothers, to boot

I like my mom, most of the time

I like my dad, rarely

I like books, and I like when I’m able to read them

I like all media, really, if it’s good and I can consume it without losing focus

I hate my anhedonia

I hate my poor focus

I hate my inability to study, read, or concentrate

I hate focusing on my anger

In a way, it hurts to consider my pain

Which is a lesson: Am I making anyone’s life better by sharing my woes?

Well no, but, you do what you gotta do

And mistakes happen

But I like it

And I hate it

And I want it to stay

Oh, or rather, oh oh go away

In Turn

That I, now advanced, without inden

tation, ca’ expriss me own

feelings in screams of poetic musicality

render in pixels of testament

rather than the boring lull of wah wah

Hi stupid go to hell

n all that.

I am naive because people say so.

But they are cocksuckers because I say so.