Monday, May 20, 2013


When I write,
poetry is the only thing
that makes sense anymore

I don't do sentences or grammar
or all the junkie rules
I spell shit wrong and make
up my own language like it's
plastered to my face to make me look
pretty, and desirable and sexy.

My language is my skanky dress
my full mouthed thoughts
and thunderous laugh

My words are not special
and really are only there for me
They are not for you, or for the healthy,
grateful, loving people that surround me

They are selfishly for my and my
energy lacking day
My tea days
and my coffee smelling days

Coffee is disgusting. Period.

Man periods are terrible,
they make me hurt
like sticks and stones
breaking your bones

But words will never hurt you,
so please don't be offended
by my thoughts
by my words that leap from pages
full of enthusiasm but lacking grace

Please remember that I am human,
and that I think
like the world is ending,
and that I am lacking.

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