i'm sorry
for being a burden
it will all be over soon.

i'm sorry
for holding you down
you could never fly
with these weights on your
wings.

i'm sorry
for trying my best
it just proved
i'm never
good
enough.

i'm sorry
for hating myself
i know you hate the pressure
of stepping around
broken glass.

i'm sorry
for being a friend
because i'm complicated
and not worth
all this
effort.

and i'm sorry
for crying
because i never...

junk is:
the warm ocean
not the cold breeze,
the fall before
the landing,
gloves to
bare skin,
and the foggy glasses
that makes abstract real.

junk is:
black without blue,
minutes without seconds,
a portrait atop a mirror,
results without the work.

so of course,
you try junk,
because,
as is everyone,
you are weak.
for a moment
you are weak,
and for every moment after
until-

getting clean is:
the sensation of drowning
with lungs full of air, ...

Happy boy,
tell me where you hide.
Share with me your feelings,
and delve within your mind.
Speak about your secrets,
and the problems there inside,
but throughout all of these struggles
explain how you've survived.

Happy boy,
I think I've lost my way.
Burrow deep inside me,
and find a place to stay.
If you holed up in my body,
made a home inside my brain
maybe that would wipe the sad away;
make new atop this stain.

Happy...

Jesus took a hit of his celestial vape, the flowing white clouds reminding him of his home. "Gandhi?" He gestured to the empty space by his side, beckoning for the reincarnated man. "Yes... sir Jesus?" Gandhi had always been a reserved man, but ever since Jesus saved him from the 13th Section of the Calamitos galaxy this feature was only increased by tenfold. "Please, call me JC-Dawg." Jesus replied, although this wasn't his formal given name, most had come to...

Alone at night he sits inside his room;
lights off - screens illuminate his tomb.
He will sleep tonight, too little too late,
by 6am the boy must leave through the white rusted gate.

Alone at night he sits inside his room;
his body weak, his mind consumed with doom.
His feelings take root in the ground of his tome,
as he leaves his journal, his emotions, in this home.

Alone at night he sits inside his room;
thinks about...

Maybe you thought that you were funny.
Maybe you knew it wasn't kind.
Maybe you cursed your tongue but said it.
Maybe you thought she wouldn't mind.

But when you spoke,
only gunshots left your mouth.
Watched as
smoke trails filled the room.
Watched as
glee turned to gloom.
You lit the matches.
Placed the bomb.
But didn't take blame for the boom.

Because,
you didn't really see the purpose.
Only watched as rumours surfaced.
Didn't think that she had...