Writings and poems, but only while drunk.

But become a memory

Why can’t I stop talking

Breathe

It doesn’t matter it never mattered

Alone alone alone again

Why am I stuck

Hypocrites

Why can’t I be better

Why am I so tired and stupid and ugly

I’m getting so old

I’m too old to act like this and think like this

I’ll never be anything

I picked this cage

Just drift somewhere else not too far away

I have to do better

I wish I could learn how to tell lies

No one matters

They were all so mean to me

I’m sensitive

I’m reading to much into it

Please tell me I never mattered

Is this a mental breakdown or not yet

Why can’t I just be normal

No I don’t want that medicine

I want to feel things just not as much

Why didn’t anyone want me

What piece of me is missing

I’m not that bad I don’t think

Why does everyone go away

Why am I just a memory

Why does no one love me

Why am I only good for one thing

I can’t stop thinking and I can’t stop feeling

Why do I love so much

They didn’t mean what they said

Did they mean what they said

Why can’t I be happy

I just want to be good at something

I want to be loved for something

An imperfect storm

Loving and proud

Easy to read then

Stubborn and loud

Torn by dogs

And the dogs are always men

And sometimes bitches

A very poignant feeling of not belonging

And walking forwards and sliding backwards

On a pane of ice too thick to see through

Not made for this world

I can’t write it out as fast as I think it

And I can’t think it out slow enough to know it

And like the dogs of my youth did to me

I’m ripping apart again at the seams

Between what I long to be and where I am

And what my longing to be is

And who I am

All scarred by decades of dog fights

And being ragged flesh and bone

And reeking of something long dead

Trying to decompose and grow

Again

Knowing I’m not a flower

But maybe a fungus

Building from the rot

And still poisoning everything I touch

How much longer

I’m in a rush

How much

Emboldened by the moment I’m in

The ephemeral sunset

Admired desperately

With a thick undertone of awe and

Melancholy

That you’ll never have this feeling again

Sorted into memories

Too foggy and abstract to really define

A never really beginning

Never really ending

Where poetry comes quick

In half asleep stupors

Or drunken fantasies

And mine is night sky view

Where the stars spin blurry

And sing to me

In a long forgotten tune

And mine is a lost melody

Where words are written

Smeared and bitter

In a never ending dream

And mine is a love that only whispers

When words disappear

That I’ve gone to search for

Without paper copies

I shouldn’t care

When my memory fails

To recover the details

That remind me I’m not just dreaming

I shouldn’t care

Because everything fades

Memories

Feelings

Words

I went to school a long long time

To be an archivist

Maybe it’s because I can’t quite remember

Even when I know something was there

Did anything even matter

I shouldn’t care

When it’s removed from view

They were not my words to own

After all

But I can’t help but believe

They were for me

Live for long summer drives and rolling hills

Dotted with cattle that are dotted with spots

I breathe in Texas sunrises over purple hues

The long winding roads that never stop

Then exhale sunsets and golden hour blues

The humming kiss of banjo strings and

Soft mellow tunes echo in the distance

Someone calls out and sings to me

It’s a tempting melody

And God and all His magic couldn’t tell me

Burn out and die

Reborn another flame in time

In time babe

They grow accustomed to your boiling shower

And welcome it as the morning embrace that replaces a faith

I am a thousand things more than my shadow

I am a thousand things less than my mask

I am the soul of a person far too admired

Glass hearts broken frequently and viciously will dust into sand

Time passes ears as our minds fear the end

It buzzes soft, grows too loudly, then sits

Soft monotone, sweet slumbering, yet dense

Crying loudly nightly howling chorus

The melody that follows it is tense

What decaying horror stands before us

It is but death, tall with chaos, repent

Like time it finds a way to dry our kind

Wipe human waste with lifeless grace away

Whats left behind no selfless man will mind

Magnificence, swift transcendence, decay

If we could see the life after our death

Rotary sensory connections dial out universal desire

Watch this digital nightmare crumble in the sunlight

Same as 35mm tape

Holding memories we don’t dare take the time to recreate

The price of connection

Empathetic recollection