Thursday, December 29, 2011

Baby koala, you, me and the starving children

I don't know why but when I think of baby koala bears clinging to trees I think of you.
And when I think of you I think of me. Because everything revolves around me.

That's selfish to say. I feel bad for saying it. But its only a momentary feeling. Like watching
those commercials with the starving children and abused animals. I feel bad only in fleeting moments.
Once the channel is switched everything is back to being ok, for me. Sorry.

I am very American. My happiness is my top priority. My 'birth right' or something. It is very bad
to admit that I think that. I should win a noble prize. Not for peace but for pieces.

"He is very complex, a puzzle." The noble peace prize comity all nod in agreement. Synonymously.

I am awesome, I think to myself at 12:21 am. And you are just a koala bear clinging to a tree.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

One day we will both die and knowing this is the only way I can get through the day

Feel like being 'uncharacteristic'
like saying 'fuck you' on the phone
or sending you a postcard with
obscene words and writing p.s. these
are my feelings.

One day I will wake up and there
wont be thoughts about you at 4am.

Or I wont be writing about waking up
and thinking about you at 4am.

I will send you a letter that says "fuck
your merry christmas, I hope you die
at 4 am, on a weekend or something."

I don't want to die.

When the world explodes I will feel
comfort in knowing that you are somewhere
exploding too.

Because when I think  I love you
I hope I mean I don't.

I don't
I wont
I don't
I wont
I don't

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Out of control

You were sitting down reading a book. I was reading a book too.
My book was probably better than yours.  It feels bad to write that.
It felt good to think it. I am pretty self-indulgent. I hate myself very much.
I apologize more than a Japanese waiter. I feel like shit. Like when you
flush your toilet. Why are you pushing me away? I don't know why I exist.
In fact I believe I don't.

I remember seeing you before I 'knew' you. I liked you better then. Pretty smile and not so bitchy. If I could tell you the truth I'd sound really bitter. Don't make me make sense. I feel like condensed soup. I hate my microwave. Sometimes on days like this I forget what I started writing about. I lose focus. Out of touch. 

A mother tells her son "You are out of control," the son tells his dog "you are out
of control." Its a vicious cycle. We are all out of control. Crying or wanting to. Smile.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Future of text, a future text.

I can feel an idea surfacing
surfacing through a body of text.
A body I text, a body I texted.
A paragraph I wrote in the back
of my throat.

Itchy, cant scratch.
Mentally detached.
Sing a haiku, a poem
for you, from me, from
him, anonymous kin.

Everyone shares one fountain.
Wealth and knowledge. Festive?

Its creative. To think.
Honey I shrunk my brain,
with pills.

I think I killed the kids?
In my stomach?
with words?
in the future?
I hate you?
No, your father?
I hate him?

I'm sorry?

Tonight in your room clouds spell your doom.

The world is a fucked up place
Go hide in your sheets, or someone
Else's sheets. You don't own any sheets.
Go cry or something. Go try and be positive.
After 6 beers and a couple pizzas. Go throw
Up because you cant stand the idea of
Your stomach being full.
Kids in Africa starve.
You don't care.
You just don't like
The idea of getting fat.
Apathy, for everyone else.
Laugh. Try not to care.
You don't care. You repeat over and over
In a quiet monotone while watching discovery
You are bored.
Spike tv.
You are bored.
You are bored.
Read a book.
You are bored
Go to sleep.
You cant sleep.
Seems like you're fucked.
You don't know what to do.
Just feel like something should be done.
You say out loud.
You imagine words
Forming clouds.
Above, over
Your head
Your bed
Kinda gray
Its raining.
Pretend rain.
You are wet.
Soaking wet.
Soggy socks,
Draining shoes
With nothing to lose.
You are fucked.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

small defeat

Got home from work and smoked a cigarette.
I didn't really feel like smoking but felt the 'need'
to smoke because I had nothing else to do.

Spongebob is on the tv. Nobody home.
I feel 'lonely' in a quiet and melodramatic way.

Like I will never watch spongebob with someone
I like a lot...

I don't like spongebob and its making me feel even
lonelier but I can't find the remote to turn it off and
I'm feeling lazy and melodramatic. I can't muster up
the energy needed to get up and turn it off.

Feels like 'physical contact' with the TV will cause my
arm to fall off.

Feel like I should masturbate despite not having the 'will'
to do so, so I won't.

I won't masturbate right now.

Staring at my phone screen.

Thinking 'text' but the idea of 'texting' someone feels like
'small defeat' and the idea of thinking 'small defeat' itself feels
like 'small defeat'.

Chill, bro...

I don't know.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Text Message.

Felt like writing something short and sweet and sending it to your inbox,
for you to glance over, for you to ignore and delete. A simple little message
that says a lot of little things.

But whatever I won't. You don't deserve what I have to say.
I know this, I know this, but I feel the need to do it anyway.

But I won't.
But I won't
But he won't
But I won't.

But he...

Stares at a blank text screen, not writing anything.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

In your room with Microsoft Word

We spent half of the night writing to each
other in an open Microsoft Word Document
on your laptop. We didn't speak. Just typed in
silence. Words too silly for actual verbal speech.
But in the context of Microsoft Word it all seemed
'good' or 'important' or 'sentimental'.

We looked at each other, in silence. Eyes locked.
Knowing things. Things we didn't know we knew.
And it was kind of great.

And you typed things I will never repeat. Things that 
still haunt my sleep, things I will never repeat. Things
that weren't true, things you didn't mean. Because how
could you mean any of that when here I am typing this
up? Haunted by words that you threw up to make me smile,
to make me respond, to make me crazy.

Some time later, the next day we had our first kiss. And I knew
then that it was the end of something great. Great but not all real.
Something great but not all real that I still feel.

Babies who are doctors with insect arms.

I will collapse on my own face.
My body will fall, my face will be
smashed, on a rug, on concrete or
maybe but not likely on wood.
and there will be blood, maybe a
lot, maybe a little, maybe a little
more than expected, maybe less
than what was not expected.

I will collapse and pray that I am
knocked unconcious. I don't want
to feel a thing.I want to just dream or
something. And wake up in a hospital
surrounded by doctors.

Doctors that are babies with tiny insectesque
arms and fake mustaches.

I want them to tell me to not worry. That I will be
ok and I will feel good and safe despite the doctors
abnormalities because they have degrees and I have
nothing but a broken nose and social anxiety.

Realization or something

It took
~12 minutes
for me to

that you are just
out of focus

a screwed up concept
a fucked up melody

I don't want to hear
your noise
experience your
dis(ab)solve in

I just want
to hold your hand
hear "I understand"
"I really really care."

But all I get are
expecting glances
and dissapointment.


Saturday, December 3, 2011

The 'dog'; 'chain of command'

The 'dog' broke his promise to the 'chain of command'
the chain of command was pissed re the broken promise.
The 'dog' was pissed re the 'chain of command' being pissed.
it was a cycle. empty and hollow. Like most basic human
emotions or reasons or excuses and crutches.

The 'dog' was in a bad mood. The 'Chain of command'
was pissy and drunk. They didn't talk much that night,
to each other. Just groans and moans, no hugs.

In the morning they drank coffee. Not together, just in
the same room.

The 'dog' felt like he could 'hate' the 'chain of command'
the 'chain of command' felt the same.

The 'chain of command' thought about her childhood. She thought
about her father, or her lack of a father.

He wasn't there.

The 'dog' had a father. 

It just felt like he wasn't there.

The 'chain of command' left for work.

The 'dog' stayed home and washed dishes.

Later they would 'forgive' each other and 'love' each other again.

"I'm sorry I broke my promise," the 'dog' would say. Not
fully meaning it.

"No its ok, I'm sorry," would respond the 'chain of command'
not really believing him.

They would make up and spend the night in mental soliloquy, thinking,
wondering what the next few years would be like together.

Thursday, December 1, 2011


I felt this great urge to smash my face against
the wall, and scream obscene things at life or
the world or something. But the urge went away.
Some place. Safe... or far. far enough so that
my 'will' could never find it.

my 'will' gives up easily.

I have a distinct feeling of 'sad rage' bottled up.
I feel the desire to ejaculate angrily. I will
assert my power in my mind. vividly.

On the wall, face, nothing but chipped paint, smashed.
will gives up. easy.

Fuck this 'shit'

I feel like I will live till 100 as punishment for
something my parents did.

And I will see the world be destroyed by millions of tiny
robots designed by Apple.

And they will eat my body because I am 'organic'.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Felt the need to write things to express myself,
but I don't want to write. I just want to punch
little kids with insect arms and strangle people
with jell-o.

This would be semi-satisfying to the point where
elephants wouldn't be so scary anymore. maybe.

I had a dream. It trampled all over me.
A pink and yellow elephant. Striped.

I feared for my life. Vigorously.
with averted eyes and androgynous

I had a dream of you. Dead. I cried.
In my dream. Confused. Isolated. Lonely.
Unsure of myself. Or my feelings or

Today I walked in a puddle of water.
Socks wet. Cold. I took the train home.
At home I went to sleep.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Saturday the 19th or something.

Woke up thinking 'i should masturbate or something'
But felt neither the urge nor motivation to do it.
I brushed my teeth, showered and looked at myself
In the mirror feeling neither confident or handsome.
I splashed water on my already wet face and got dressed
Feeling neither 'good' or 'satisfied' with what i was wearing.

Outside i called my dad and he told me things that
Happened to him. Hung up and felt bad for a few
Seconds and walked to the train station.

Took the 6 to 14th Street.
I feared for my life a little bit as a black or
Hispanic man stared at me with fierce
Intensity. I averted my eyes and thought
'If i need to i can fuck that guy up'
I listened to rap with the intent of feeling
'Tough' in case i did have to fuck someone up.

I got off the train and went to the strand.
I watched 'trendy' people work.
I asked 'trendy' people for help.

I bought
shoplifting at american apparel by tao lin
Cognitive behavioral-therapy by tao lin
Nothing a portrait of insomnia by blake butler
and everything matters by ron currie jr

I left the strand feeling vaguely satisfied
And bought a knish.

I was thinking 'this is my life. Its not so bad'
Then felt very lonely upon re entry into the subway
Station. Listened to neva dinova on the train and
Watched people cram themselves into the train.
Saw agitated and nervous faces.

I'll probably go home, buy chinese food and watch
I saw the devil on netlix alone and try not to think
Or care about it.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

12 am trying to make an impact.
I dont make anything.
Not even a noise.
Stomach is hurting.
Feel the urge to pee.
This is my night.
This is every night.
Feel the urge to txt or call.
Feel like i have nothing to say.
Feel like you wont care if i did.
'This is bad'
I tell myself in my head.
I am lying on a couch.
I dont own a bed.
Just a space to die on.
Felt the need to be melodramatic
when I wrote that last line.
Feel like shit.
I am fucked.
I wish i could get a blowjob right now.
It would be nice.
Or maybe a hug.
A small hug and a smile.
But i dont get anything
And you get it all.
I want to hate you but I feel
Too smart for that.
So i only feel dis-contempt for
Hiding my head in my pillow
Screaming softly inside.
Thinking 'this is it, this is it'
And telling myself
"Go to sleep"
While trying not
To 'sob'.
I couldn't 'sob'
If i wanted to anyways.
I dont feel a thing.
I want to hate you.
Maybe a little.
Boo hoo.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Wants... (A list)

I want my words to sound really deep and profound and melodramatic, so that my problems can come off
as 'unique' or 'important'.

I want to not be seen as self-aware but self-assure.

I want to learn to swim better despite never really going to swim.

I want to lose 60 pounds and grow an inch.

I want to write something really funny to impress girls who read my stuff.

I want a pet cat called 'Taco' or 'Troy'.

I want to create elevator music with subliminal messages that make listeners be nicer to their pets.

I want to stop having dreams of black babies and woman who made my life suck.

I want to go around calling people pedestrians.

I want a pair of baby blue vans.

I want to yell 'babies are a good source of protein' really loudly in an abortion clinic.

I want my future wife to look like Rachel Bilson and treat me like shit.

I want to not have to feel uncomfortable when I walk in a 'cutting edge' clothing store.

I want to be 'cutting edge' without seeming like I want to be cutting edge.

I want to not fall in love with every pretty girl who says nice things to me.

I want to not have to go to sleep at six in the morning.

Sunday, November 6, 2011


I'm not inspired by anything lately.
I feel, 'empty'. I threw up in my
mouth a bit. Whatever.

Pointless things feel pointless

like jumping off a bridge
or writing
a poem.
or reading a
liking anyone.

I want to put my head in a pillow.
and laugh sarcastically at
at life.
at irony.


I check my emails
I check my phone
I check my facebook
no new anything.

I will die like this
I think
or feel
at the

This is my life.

Staring at the computer screen.
I want to scream at it.
in a foreign language.
with a russian accent
in japanese.


'My life

I think

Monday, October 31, 2011

I am not sad.

I am not lonely.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Random Thoughts at 1 am.

You make me excited about life sometimes I think.
Like if you gave me a green apple, it would be the
best green apple ever.

If you gave me a kiss it would be the best kiss ever. Maybe.

I want to be excited about life all the time. I want to be like a baby.
Babies are always excited about life I think. Maybe. I don't really know.
What do babies think about? 'feed me' or 'boobies'...

I wonder if cats are excited about life ever. They have blank facial expressions.
I think cats are just as bored as humans. I think humans have more fun. Humans
should be more grateful. Although cats can lick their whole body, I want to be
able to lick my whole body. Maybe. I don't know. Forget that idea.

If I was an elephant I'd wish I could forget things. Who wants to remember everything?
That guy picking his nose. I will remember him forever, vividly.

I need successful sleep. Like waking up 'excited' or feeling not 'tired'.

Sadly I think I won't ever be able to feel satisfied.

Everything you do is pointless. Maybe.

I want to smoke a blunt.

Anti depressants depress me.

I will kill your family. With kindness.

Love me. Please.

I will buy a house and die or something. The American dream.

Sunday, October 23, 2011


we drove to a beach
to drink shitty beer
and all i could do
was think
this is going to
end badly
and it

'cause we
are old now
and thats the
only time
we were
and laughing
and kissing
and wishing

and now we're old
and we've got all new
friends and longer
weekends, trying
not to be our

Sunday 10/23/2011

Prepared a salad for about 5 minutes. Ate the salad. Watched Dexter. Sat and thought about going outside to smoke. I don't have any cigarettes. My stomach hurts. In a weird way. like an electric current. My stomach is going to explode. I think I will die maybe.

Cleaned the apartment up a bit. It still looks messy. Thats ok. Thinking 'This feels nice' and laying
down on the rug. Listened to my ipod. Put new music on my ipod. Listened to 'kayo dot'. Thought
about things I shouldn't be thinking about. Trying not to care.

Thought about having a baby.
I would be happy I think.
Seems less lonely.
Plus you can make it wear
a sombrero and fake mustache.

Feeling lonely, a bit, maybe.

I'm going out for coffee.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Pretty Girls

As I walked around the city smoking an American Spirit cigarette and drinking a 75 cent cup of coffee, I thought about all the pretty women who I would never speak or sleep with. Its kind of a lonely feeling. Watching a beautiful woman walk right by you, watching her leave your sight.

I think of all the cool things I would say.
Then I think 'if I was someone else
I could deff pull that off, for sure...'

But I'm not someone else.

Sometimes I see pretty girls and I imagine what their lives are like. Are they married? Do they have boyfriends? Do they go to school? Do they work shitty minimum wage jobs? Are they happy? What kind of music do they listen to?

Sometimes I imagine a life in which I am married to them. In which we have kids. What it would be like.

I smoke my cigarette. Feeling like the worlds biggest pussy. I am a person just like them. I should be able to open my mouth and say hi. But instead I watch, I think, I imagine, I smoke, I drink, I walk away.

Friday, October 21, 2011


In the city I keep thinking about coffee so I got a small 75 cent cup of coffee from the corner store and felt satisfied while I smoked a cigarette and watched people pass me by. I thought a bit about my life and wondered what the people passing by me think and how they 'perceive' me. I'd like to be 'perceived' as a positive and nice person. But I don't think I come off that way. I've tried to accept this. But in this city its kind of good. Actually maybe really good not to be 'perceived' as 'a nice and approachable' person.

I was asked for a cigarette today. 
I gave it to the guy.
He was happy.
I was happy he was happy.
I made someones day a little better.
I wish someone would make my day a little better.
My day isn't 'bad' but I want it to be better, exciting or fulfilling. 

As I drank coffee I thought 'I will buy her a sandwich and we will eat together and walk and talk and ride the train'.

I was thinking about the future then. 
That would be nice.

its supposed to be my moms burf day today. We will celebrate with lots of people, eat and drink. It will be nice, I hope. 

K. Bye.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Pregnant (Excerpt)

They were lying down on the bed looking at each others faces.

"This is nice, I thought things would go bad, but this is nice, she approves of 'us', that makes me happy" she says.

"Yeah I'm happy too." He says.

"You're happy? I thought you didn't care." she says.

"I don't care about anyones approval about 'us', but it makes you happy and more confident about 'us', that makes me happy" He says.

She smiles.
She kisses him.

"Now we have to figure out how to tell them about the baby" She says looking at his face.

"The baby? What baby?"

"I think... I think that maybe I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant.... What? You're kidding?"

"My period didn't come, its been a few days. Didn't you notice?"

"Not really I figured you just learned how not to complain"
He said, grinning.

"I can feel it. I know thats impossible, but I know I might be pregnant."
"Shit." He says.
"we're fucked." He says. Smiling.

"Is it wrong that I'm a little happy? I mean we are probably fucked, but I'm a little happy." He says.
She smiles and holds his hand.

"No its not wrong. I'm happy about it too. I mean I don't know, we've always talked about us having a baby, even when we weren't together. Now I'm maybe pregnant."

"Our baby... will be black..." He says.
She laughed.

"shut up... Maybe" She said.

"What will we name it?"He said.

"I don't know. I mean I've thought about it but right now I don't know"

"we don't have names... We don't have money... We are fucked"

"we'll be ok, we'll manage" she said.

"we can't feed the baby ramen noodles... we're fucked"

"Thats why god gave women boobs..." She said.

"Boobs... I guess. We're still fucked"

In the morning His dad looked at him grinning.
"a baby huh?" Said his dad.
"She told you already?" He said.
"No... I can just tell" Said his dad.
"you're a liar." He said.
"The walls are thin. Me and your mom heard a lot more than we would have liked to" Said his dad.
"Son of a bitch" he said.

At the mall they looked at baby things in a baby store.
"We don't know if we're pregnant yet" He said
"We're pregnant..." she said.
"I like that" she said, smiling.

"Dude you are fucked" said his friend while smoking a blunt.

"I know" he said taking the blunt from his friend and smoking.

"But I feel good. I mean I've always wanted a baby I think. Secretly"

"Why the fuck would you want a baby? Its a lot of fucking work man I mean all the shit my sister has to go through... I feel like killing you just thinking about it. I will kill you right now I swear to god I don't care. A crime of passion... no no a crime of salvation... because I care about you too much to see this happening to you" Said his friend.

"I'm glad that you care so much" He said.

"You should name the baby after me" Said his friend.
"After you? You don't even approve of it" He said.

"Yeah but I just think that would be cool"

At home he played video games. He was still a little high.
'I won't have time for this anymore' he thought.
'no more weed... no more video games... thats ok I guess I barely do that stuff now anyways'

She came home. She sat next to him.

"This game is boring" she said.

"you're boring" he said.

She got up and walked into the bathroom. Closed the door.
"I'm taking the test" She yelled.
He got up and went into the bathroom.

"Why did you come into the bathroom? I have to pee, I feel like I can't pee now. I can't perform under pressure" She said.

"I felt like its what I should do" he said.
"No... wait outside." She said.
"Ok". He left the bathroom.

A few minutes passed and she left the bathroom.
"well?" he said.
"I'm pregnant. I feel fat already" she said.
"You're not fat... yet" he said, grinning.
"thanks... i guess"

"Well you're older than I was when I had you" said his dad.

"I know, still..."

"Maybe now you'll finally get your shit together and get a real job"

"Whats wrong with the video store, thats a real job"

"a real shitty job... look you know you can work with me"

"no... I like having soft hands and not being bald"

His dad sighs.

"well are you going to get married?" Said his dad.

"I don't know, we haven't discussed it" he said.

"What is there to discuss? You just buy her a ring and ask her. I swear this generation... all about 'talking', she will say yes, she's having your baby"

"ok I will propose" he said.







He heads for the door.

"where are you going?"

"To buy a ring" he said.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Sad Builidings (Very Short Story)

They were walking outside. They passed lots of buildings.
"these building all seem so sad" she said.
"not all of them" he said.
"show me a building that isn't sad" she said.
He looked around the street. He saw an abandoned church. He pointed at it.
"That building doesn't look sad" he said.
"it looks scary" she said.
"scary is good" he said.
"scary is sad" She said.
"sad is good" He said.
He grinned. She kissed him on the cheek. She grabbed his hand.

"I am sad right now. Thats why the buildings seem sad to me I think." She said.

'She's sad. Thats not good. I can't make her happy. I feel bad. But I'm not
happy either.but I feel like you shouldn't say those things. It makes other
people feel bad. She doesn't care she just says things. I like that. But it
makes me feel bad. I'm not enough for her.'

Her phone made a noise. She received a txt message. She read the txt message
and laughed.

'someone told her something funny. She looks happy. someone else can make her
happy with just a txt. i'm right here and i can't make her happy. maybe she's
starting to like me less. i knew this would happen eventually but just not now.
its too soon, or too late. if this happened earlier maybe i wouldn't feel so
bad. i don't know'

She txt the person back.

'she's txting while she's with me. Talking to me isn't enough. i feel lonely now,
i'm walking with her, she's with me but i feel lonely right now because she is having
more fun txting someone else than being with me. i feel stupid.'

he pulled out his cell phone. he started looking for people to txt but the only person he
would want to txt was walking next to him.

'if she liked me as much as i liked her she wouldn't feel the need to txt someone while she
was with me. i think. maybe. i don't know. i just don't know.'

Before they were in a 'relationship' she would txt him and email him a lot. They spent most
of the time on Google chat, txting or on the phone. She would tell him how all she could think
about was receiving a txt from him or an email. he was happy because he felt the same. now they
were 'together' and she barely txt him. and when they were together she mostly txted other people.
He felt confused thinking 'i knew this would happen, I shouldn't feel bad because i knew this
would happen.'
He started walking a little bit faster. He was a head of her, by the time she noticed he was a few
feet away from her. she walked faster to catch up.

"why are you walking so fast?" she said. But she meant it rhetorically maybe because she didn't wait
for an answer she just went back to her phone.
He kept thinking if he walked fast enough he would dissapear. and if he dissapeared none of this would
matter. He closed his eyes and tripped a little bit on a tree root.
She didn't notice.
He was annoyed, not because of almost tripping but because she didn't notice.

'when she is around i notice everything that happens to her. this is bad. really bad.'

"I think we have to break up" he said.
"what?" she said. She didn't hear him.
He became more angry than before. He pulled out his
phone and sent her a txt.

'i think we have to break up' it said.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Songs I wrote That You'll Never Hear pt.1

Thinking about you:

I'm thinking about you
while I cross the street
thinking about you while I stare at my feet
I'm thinking about you while this strager passes by
thinking about you when I'm swarmed by flies
I'm thinking about you when i txt hi
thinking about you when you don't reply
to that txt I
sent 5 hours ago
and i feel sad
I mean i feel bad
I mean i feel
I feel
I feel
and I'm thinking about you on the stereo
I'm thinking thats a song I wish I wrote
I'm thinking its something i'd like you to hear
but then you'd fall in love and you'd dissapear
I'm thinking about you and how you'll never hear
this song.

Kill everyone:

I'm sincere when I say "I wish you were here"
and how every car that passes makes me wish
I'd dissapear cause my heart stops, yeah my
heart stops, cause I think it is you
and I wait and I wait and wait
but no one ever comes, and I wait and I wait
and I wait and i wish i'd bought a shotgun


And I think you're cute even when you
wear silly shoes, yeah I think you're cute
when I think of you being used, yeah I think
you're the cutest when you walk into the room
I think you're really cute when you inhale those fumes
and we're smoking, we're smoking and taking turns on
getting burned and we're smoking and smoking
cause we never learned
and I just think you're cute when you wear silly
shoes and can't walk straight after drinking 2x beers


You ate a popsicle
I think it was blue
or red
or green
or purple
or orange...
you ate a popsicle
while sitting on
my bed,
you ate a popsicle
and threw it at my head
you ate a popsicle
while i cried myself
to sleep
you ate a popsicle
while i wrote bad poetry
you ate a popsicle
and didn't offer me none
you cold hearted bitch....

Monday, October 10, 2011

last night

Felt lonely for 5 or more hours last night
thinking 'its impossible, its impossible'
not knowing exactly what that 'its impossible'
really meant but just thinking it because it
was something i felt for 2 minutes straight.
Smoked about 5x cigarettes while listening to
'you will not survive' by 'the saddest landscape'
and got a huge buzz because i rarely smoke.
went into a coughing fit for almost 3 minutes.
went into my room and watched 'paranormal activity 2'
thinking 'i really wish i was holding someone's hand right
it was a particular someone that I was wishing would show up magically
and 'hold my hand and pet my head'and maybe tell me 'i love you its ok,
i am here'
then i typed this.
then i did nothing but edit this and make it more shitty for about ten minutes.
i don't know how to end this.
so i won't.....
i will edit this more
and more
and more
and more
and more
and some
and think 'this is pointless'
me typing this up
was pointless because
this is
not a poem
or 'poetic'
and 'i have no talent'
then i thought about today
and how i have no plans except
to maybe study and write some more
pointless things
and i hate myself.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

depression, as a person (a poem)

stealing neighbors shitty internet,
not being able to load any videos
or download any porn. I'm frustrated
and I feel lonely.
Thinking 'it would be nice if some cute
girl magically appeared beside me so that
i could cuddle and have sex with her'
Thinking 'that will never happen you fucking
I can't move or I'll lose the connection.
This piece of shit.
Shit as an adjective, shit as a noun.
Fuck. as a verb.
I hate life.
a little maybe.
I'm depressed.
depression, as a person
killing lots of fat people.
too much space occupation.
i hate myself.
spare the fat ones.
depression, as an adjective
describing me.
"he looks like depression"
me in cage being pointed at
"daddy he is depressed"
"yes son, don't make eye contact
its contagious"
"ok daddy, buy me mcdonalds?"
"sure son, whatever you want"

Saturday, October 8, 2011


i feel like i should be cooler.
alone, out loud, i think
'i could be cooler'

i feel like if i were cooler
i wouldn't be sitting down
thinking to myself alone, out loud,
'i could be cooler'

but i would be doing something
stupid with friends

and if i was cooler i wouldn't think
the stupid things i was doing were stupid
i would think they were 'chill'

i'd be 'chilling with my bro's doing bitchin' things'

and i'd be happy and smiling
not only because of the drugs but
also because being cool means you
are instantaneously happy , i think, alone
out loud to myself.

i'm going to do 50 push ups and
drink 5 cans of rockstar and try
to be cool.

k. bye.

pedro.fake mustache. sombrero. Sarah.

He sits alone. He's thinking 'I'll give up on life, I'll give up on life, I mean I sorta already have.'
He's bored and depressed. Now he's outside. Bored and depressed, watching cars. He is not a car person. Just a bored and depressed person. He looks at the snow and thinks

'I should throw a snowball at my face.I wish someone would throw a snowball at my face. I would feel slightly annoyed and then laugh because I'm a stupid person for taking myself so serious and deserve snow in my face, and i Would throw a snowball back at that person but maybe not in the face because I would feel bad'

He walks towards the bus stop and gets on the bus. The bus is going somewhere. He doesn't know where. He doesn't care where. He just wants somewhere to go to. He sits on the bus looking at people. People look mad. People look depressed. People look annoyed. Annoyed at life. Like him. But they are all happier than him. He knows this because he can feel it. The bus stops. He gets off the bus.

Outside of the bus life feels different. More real. 'The bus was the twilight zone. I liked the bus' he thought.But he didn't really like the bus. He was confused. Caught between liking and disliking.
'the bus is like Sarah. I feel different when I am with her. She likes cats and poptarts. I like cats and poptarts. I like Sarah. She doesn't like me... maybe. She didn't call. Four days.... four years. Its been a lifetime.I want a cat to pet. I would name it Pedro and give it to Sarah. With a fake mustache and a sombrero. Its festive'

He walks in a random direction. He doesn't know where he is going. He sees a store and walks into the store. Behind the counter there's a man with a mustache.

'pedro.fake mustache. sombrero. Sarah' he thinks, grinning.

The mustashed counter man averts his eyes.

'He thinks I will steal his soul. I only want his mustache'

He looks at the candy aisle.

'She said she would call today. I waited. I feel stupid. Maybe she will call soon. So stupid. I will assault mustache man with a bag of skittles if she doesn't call right now'

Mustache man was speaking on a cellphone in spanish. Not paying attention.
He grabbed a bag of jolly ranchers, some m&ms and a snickers bar and walked out of the store.

'I just stole from mustache man... I took from his income. Thats bad.I am an ass hole. I don't deserve to be called'

He openned the bag of jolly ranchers. He put one in his mouth. He no longer cared about Mustache man's income because Jolly ranchers are Sarah's favorite candy.