Midnight last night I’m in the car going north, west, north, northwest.

Fucking up is what I do best. It’s a skill I’ve mastered.

Running away, hiding.

Nomadic.

Searching for something I can’t find. Something I can’t touch. Something I can’t feel.

Withering away inside my head. My heart.

It never makes sense.

Shock. That’s all I feel is shock. And the withering away of myself. 

This is a poem about two soulmates in love. One half of the soulmates is writing a poem for the other half’s birthday. Let the hilarity commence. I love you, Katherine.

Your favorite movie of all time
Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind
So is mine

You worked at Six Flags New England as a teenager
So did I

You hate life
So do I

Your first love turned you into a succubus
That’s my story too

We found each other on Facebook through a dudeman named Cam Mancini
And who would have thought we would have turned into best TEEEEEES
Now we laugh together,
Cry together,
And are all around miserable fucks together

What did I do before you?
I laid in bed thinking of all sorts of ways to entertain myself
But mostly through masturbation

This poem is really lame but it is your birthday in 21 minutes
I hope you can find the courage to not put this in Expressions
But then again this poem would still be better than the 22 submissions you will receive
So who knows.. maybe you’ll save the literary magazine with this one shitty poem

Happy Birthday bestfuckingcuntfriend, I Love you for ever and ever

I hate this. I love this. It’s not working out. It is working out. My head is blowing up and my heart keeps racing. The cold heart can’t break. It is frozen.

I used to care but now I don’t. You’re just really pathetic and it is really very hilarious.

Feel the burning, aching
Two knives in the back
A soothing liquid in the front
No wonder the nights are long and mornings short
And waking up in the middle is heart wrenching
Time consuming

Oh, this miserable existence
Filled with cynical achievements
And boasty claims
Of lust and love
Death and attachment

To go back and change this would be a bitter argument
With myself
And I

Pity. Bitterness. It’s the same these days. I’ve been thinking about what’s been going on since September and it doesn’t make any sense. I ran away from these emotions but now, since settling down in this apartment in Providence, the emotions are getting closer and closer. They must be inches away by now. The tears well up behind my eyes. They can never come out. They’re in jail behind my eyes.

I’m in jail. My own bitterness towards the world, towards people. It traps me and so I can never give anyone a chance. I don’t want to. What are relationships except fruitful events, one after the other, but then as all events do, end. They end and end. Then start over again. But these are new events. But they will end all the same. I’m starting to think the world is better lived through lonely bodies.

I don’t want to feel like the presence of one person can make my miserable thoughts and feelings wither away, but that’s what has been going on lately. When this ends my promiscuity will come out in full swing.

i need to break down and cry into a million fucking pieces and feel those pieces burn, explode, burn, explode one by ten by one hundred by one thousand by one hundred thousand by five hundred thousand and then POP POP POP i am done and i am finished and my being is completely gone and the world is happy i am happy when i explode

i am nothing and you are everything and everyone around me is judging me and peering through my eyes and my soul like everything is wrong with me and i don’t care really except that i do and i wish that i could be loved like i love the people in my life but i’m not and i don’t and the affection i wish was here is gone and the affection i once felt has disappeared but i don’t care because that’s how these things work and that’s how my life has been

beat me up and tear me down and make me feel weak and whole and apart and bitter but don’t let me scream because girls dont’ scream and when i want to scream it comes out as tears and as these tears pour down my face i realize i am weak and nothing and everything all at once the strength is weakness it is folly and all i want to do is scream and nothing makes sense but all makes sense sex is bad sex is good sex is everything sex is life sex is death

these words make no sense except to my tired mind my tired eyes my tired hands and fingers cold and the air is blowing that’s all i hear is the air blowing and the machine in the other room which is wasteful energy like this is wasteful energy and typing is wasteful energy this whole race is wasting energy

You fucked up. 

Your time has ended.

I don’t care. I don’t care.

I wish for your face to be forever erased from my mind.

I can block you out like the moon blocks out the sun.

Eclipse you out.

No one’s personality stinks as much as yours does right now.

Came to me in a dream and said
“You’ll die soon, little one.”
Dreaming, dreaming

Falling in a dream and up into the deep night I look
My death blitzing before my eyes
Twisted, dark, endless
Dreaming, dreaming

Woke up in a fit of restlessness
I was dying
Convulsing and distorted in an endless fit of restlessness
My life was no longer in front of my eyes
My life was behind me
My life was no long mine but, hers 

I am a jealous, raging cunt.

It pulsates and flushes out my face
My mind goes blank and then wanders throughout
my body
And veins are pushing out of my skin
And I know not where to turn

The aching pain that is inside
I am a jealous, enraged cunt.

No amount of alcohol can soothe this
No amount of plant can calm me
I am neurotic, and self indulged
In my own whimsical fantasies of possession
And obsession

No, nothing can save me 

Living inside myself and I don’t know what to make of it. I learn from day to day to take it as it comes but I’m beginning to think time doesn’t exist. It just fluctuates. We made up these numbers to co exist with a feeling of hopeless desperation. I don’t want to keep track of time. I want to lay on this couch and feel the sense that I am longing for something that doesn’t exist. Love. Friendship. Hope. Fear. All of these things matter and yet they don’t. 

I was happy for a full 6 months. But this depression never stops. And the anxiety is cyclical.