I will laminate my heart and stuff it in your mailbox and this will prove that sometimes I can take risks and that maybe sometimes I can go too far or maybe not far enough.

I'm tired of how lately I can't seem to express how I feel
and how when I do you have no idea what I mean, or when
you refuse to accept that I mean what I mean.

Lately I've been thinking about you.

I'm thinking of elephants when I think of you.
I'm thinking of birds when I think of you.
I'm thinking of kittens when I think of you.
And I'm thinking of black babies too.

When you held my hand and sand flew into my eyes,
that was the best day ever, and when you left your keys
inside of your car and we got stuck out in the rain, that
was the best moment of my life.

Now I am in NYC, thinking of elephants and birds and cats and
black babies and satan too and how I worship the both of you.

parasite

I watched my body become another person's body today and felt vaguely happy about it.
When that other person's body left me I became headless, emotionless, a limbless robot
in search of love and a host to invade because at that point I had become a parasite. I am
a parasite now thinking 'why don't you love me?' give me comfort, clothing, and food.
I will be yours forever. I'm not asking for a lot, just a shoulder and some working parts.

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.

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

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.

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

Channel.

You are bored.

Spike tv.

You are bored.

Disney.

You are bored.

Read a book.

You are bored

Go to sleep.

You cant sleep.

Seems like you're fucked.

Existentially.

Physically.

You don't know what to do.

Just feel like something should be done.

Fuck.

You say out loud.

You imagine words

Forming clouds.

Above, over

Your head

Your bed

Black

Kinda gray

Large

Clouds.

Its raining.

Pretend rain.

You are wet.

Soaking wet.

Soggy socks,

Draining shoes

With nothing to lose.

You are fucked.