oh my god, it’s a shit ton

disjointed poetry
from an insane notebook
it whispers
to me
isn’t that cliché
it tells me
some really good shit
and then
of coarse
it tells me to murder timmy
and I do
timmy
if you were wondering
is a metaphor for god
and if you didn’t know
god is actually a pseudonym
for jesus
just thought you might be interested
this is a
need-to-know-
bases

xxx

also, that man is staring at me

I think
yes, well
he has tinted glasses
which is completely unfair
cheating
I can’t stare at him
well, I can
but I would need huge wings on my back
to feel justified at all
maybe he’s not looking
maybe he’s just reading his paper
maybe I have a
self-importance-complex
because I just think I’m that curious enough
me,
sitting here
with my stupid little notebook
they don’t know that what I’m really writing down
is, really,
incredibly unimportant
it’s all in this secret language
I made up in my head
unfortunately
the entire word happens
to have
the exact same
secret language
I call it
dumb-fuck-luck.
that’s irony for you
no, stupid fucking idiot
it’s not irony
did you ever read a book?
it’s just coincidence.
sometimes
I am
so
fucking
disappointed
in you.

xxx

the following poetry comes out of the notebook, I certainly can’t guarantee quality, but who knows, you might enjoy being thorough confused and disappointed.

xxx

fingers grasping
grasping for the last breath
lying
in his death
waiting for the last
to escape him
lungs
collapse
failing
when his body abandons his spirit
and his spirit
scatters into a thousand pieces
into the air
the earth
the spirit
into everyone else’s
breath.

xxx

running
against the wind
breath in front of your face
running out
gasping
lungs dying
roots grasping at your feet

xxx

that little black
smudge
in the corner of my mind
those disenchanted thoughts
and
jumbled
words
try to live and just be
that’s all
anyone ever wants
to be.

xxx

give me all your poison
give me all your words
tell me that you hate me
tell me before you change your mind
inject me with that needle
condemn me
I’m waiting for it
I’m hoping, desiring
because anything is better
than not knowing
this torture.

xxx

the blood slides right off
blood
a shiny pool
melted silver
in a puddle

xxx

falling towards the sun
you’re so small
so insignificant
pulled into its gravity
raining down
the fire through the sky
killing me
raining death
through space
smashing into the sun
explode. fire. burn
then nothing.

xxx

becoming
lungs
becoming a beating
heart
and growing into your
body
pulling those sleeves just a little bit more
over your cold
fingers
yellow
like gold like sunlight like corruption

xxx

music
writing
I like it because it’s
concrete
no matter how many times I revisit them
they will be the same
so I know, I’m reassured
that this life isn’t yet a dream
everything else is just memory
convoluted, grim
like dreams

xxx

dreams
a direct link to my soul
we don’t speak
the same language
she speaks in pictures
beautiful stories
I speak in empty words
empty lines of poetry
empty cards
with sad fortunes
and hope-less dreams
I remember someone
told me that my heart will always try to speak to me
I don’t think it will ever stop speaking
telling me all of my hopes
and dreams
telling me what they mean

xxx

last one

xxx

the gunshot
the bullet
into the heart
pulling it out with your fingers covered in blood
taking it out of the beating heart
a hole
so red
and pumping
copper bullet
I’ve never poured copper across my heart
and if I did
it would just melt.

xxx

well, that was a trip.

xxx

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