Hating Myself Never Felt So Good...

I don't want to admit it

I don't want to

have to

admit it

but I like myself better this way

I wish I didn't

but I do

I laugh more

so much more

both longer

and more often

same with the sex

almost the best it's ever been

and nothing like anything

we've seen or felt or been in years

every orgasm a god's kiss goodnight

I know I'm killing myself

but we are all going to die

someday

and what is the point in a long life

if it's a miserable slog the whole way?

I'll take a few years off the end

for a ten-fold increase in joy and pleasure

the rest of the time

any day

all day

all day long

There are a hundred other

little reasons

for hating myself for this

a hundred little setbacks

chipping away at my self-worth

but there could be a thousand and it still

wouldn't matter

they just don't add up

they just can't compare to

the ache in my face from laughing so hard

I can't breathe

the feel of her flesh under my hands

swallowing me

the look on her face when she comes

the tears in her eyes when she can't stop laughing at me

or the idiot smile

splitting my face like a knife wound

I wish I were wrong

but this just feels

too right

Let It Out...

The first

thing

The

very

first thing

that

You

ever did

was

scream

Why Are All Of My Poems Questions?...

What if I don't
feel anything
worth writing down?
What if I don't
see anything
that penetrates my eye
with beauty?
that infects my mind
with wonder?
What if
nothing happens
in my ordinary day
to inspire
or bewilder
or amuse?
or arouse
or confuse?
or infuriate
or frustrate
or fascinate?
What if it's just
a day?
just like the day before
and the day after
and I feel nothing
nothing worth saying
nothing worth feeling
out loud
no line to express
or wisdom to surmise
with cutesy-clever
patyourselfonthebackforthinkingofitaren'tyouspecial
twists of wordplay
Just a day
And what if I have
nothing to say?
I'll say it anyway

Twenty Questions Solitaire...

Do you remember

the last time

you said the words

"I

Love

you"

?

+          +          +

I don't

I don't remember

I don't remember
the last time
that I said
"I
Love
you"

I don't remember
when I said it
or to whom
or why

And now I can't escape this
rotting feeling
that this isn't a memory
we should ever out-grow
That this isn't a memory
we should ever out-live
That this isn't a memory
we should ever get
too far away from
Now that I realize it's gone
I feel adrift and lost without it
like a greenhorn just realizing
he's lost sight of shore
for the first time

The sudden realization
that I couldn't remember
that I've lost this memory
that it must've been so long
since I last said it
to anyone
for any reason
that I've lost it completely
sits so alien and unreal in me
That I could've ever lost something
so important
something
that has always just
been there
before
something
that should just be a backdrop
to the rest of my life
now gone
and I didn't even notice it
didn't miss it at all
until now
It's as if I suddenly realized
one wall of my house was missing
exposing us
letting in the whether
and I can't even remember
when it happened

And this is all only preamble
just the lead-in
to the real question
Why?
Why can't I remember?
Why have I forgotten?
Why has it been so long since I last said it?
Why haven't I said it?
Why did I ever stop?

What am I waiting for?

Title...

I am too tired to be inspired right now.

I swear, that rhyme was unintentional.

This is not a poem.

One Down, Forever To Go...

gotta write
can't write
no time
gotta work
can't stop
too much to do
i can feel it
building up
hard up
hard time
hard line
hard night
coiled wire muscles
stretched tight twang
reverb spinal twitch
sets one eyelid going off
fluttering to start a hurricane
and the whole of it unravels
unless
i can get it out
get it out
get it all out of me
and onto paper
into screen
out to hivemind
out of me
out of me
out of me
one fibrous thread of
twisted steel at a time
all i need
is just a little more time
and a little room to bleed

This Should've Been A Tweet...

I'm so tired, I'm actually dizzy.  Looking forward to the baths tomorrow more than I ever have before.  Need to relax feels like a matter of survival at this point.

OUTTATIME...

I have to face the music.  The only way this work is going to get done anywhere even close to on-time, is if I start working 10-12 hour days.  That's just a fact.  An unfortunate fact.  There's just too much work to do, and nowhere near enough time.  So I'm just going to have to man the fuck up and do what needs to be done.

But, I'm already so tired.

Gibbering...

I spit words

I do not mean to say that
in the street, beat, hip-hop sense
I do not mean that
I spit hot rhymes
I mean

I spit words

they explode from me
suddenly
violently
And they are painful

And I cannot control them

Henry Jones, Blurble...

I have some ideas, and some things half-written, but no time to flesh anything out today.  I have more work to do right now than I can possibly handle.  And all of it is due "yesterday."  I have a work task that I'm supposed to have finished by today, and with every hour that passes that looks less and less likely to actually happen.  And if (when) I don't finish this one today, that will also push back every other task I'm supposed to be working on right now.

tl;dr - No time for love, Dr. Jones.

Lay Down Your Weary Head...

morning commute

hot sun, cool breeze
on the highway
beating down, blowing along

pair of raccoons
on the side of the road
dead
together

together
clearly from the same pack
mating for life

together
laying down
side-by-side
in the same position
facing the same direction
mirror images
drying in the sun

together

siblings?

or lovers?

in the dirt
on the side of the road