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

Wherein the Holidays

Wherein the


smite mine effort




impress me

You can go there where we

sundry sickening



sendoff standoff

sour our souls

without burial at knowledge and haste

without trimester of waste

laying bare

in the snow.

On Social Despondence

Have you ever

Tested your lim

its ahoy how much c

an you w

rite can you t

ell me you l

ove me or do yo

u want to slice my thro

at the intersection of two continents

lies my gorge rue flavonoid

of taste-ing


but know-ing


he left me

I mean it

give up

Remembering Youth

Keying in on the night

That when I was younger in thinking thoughts older than me

I thought age had no memory but to think likewise youthful

How hacked and distorted these visions are that carry me on this rock through the galaxy

To another legend, to another dirt road, navigate the space between the graphs on the pages of the textbook

I remember learning

I remember hope

How fond the youthful are of finding games to kill their already-dead uncles with

Clubs are a fine bouquet

Rebalancing the Portfolio

I dumped them because they gaslit me

Where when you’re mentally ill already, gaslighting just adds to the damage

I still don’t like that term

I dumped them like they were gangsters approaching me around the corner of some

Random streets in New York

Who cares about names

Who cares what streets they were, what district

I don’t care about the details in your fancy life

Forget me too

I hope you do

But the section where we kill the livid memories played

Foolishly accross your retina

I like that

Because it makes you scared

And for so long I have been

And you haven’t

New Year

I write so few sentiments across my forehead tattoo the bitch wonder

Off why they opened the door and left it so

Why they pretended they were friendly this holiday season when they were just

More commercials on the television and cat scrawled claws

In my inking skin, fresh and hip

But not there, sometime later

Why they wanted to know who the criminal was and I knew then that

It was always me

Always had been

No needles to heaven just the loose footstool and a bunch of junk

Up the yard now and then, looking for a new owner, I am,

Looking like my life depends on it