We had silly nicknames and long winded talks on the phone

I wonder why Plato

Didn’t appear to watch Socrates take and die

I wonder why my bottles are empty

But my soul feathers dried

Carrying the mistakes of a yesterday

Carrying the words upon my shoulder

I settled a problem

Unlike the hour

When we parted and I spoke of another

The actions I acted

As a play on wicked

Together

I screeched the air

Nothing being

Upsetting myself

Soul leaning

Eyes begin to water

Cause

I don’t have anyone to talk to with

This must be the feeling Dickinson had

It’s a dreadful

Awful

Existence I am living right now

 Prettiest nights gone to weather out

Beautiful women have walked in and gone

Taking parts of me

As

I look into her eyes

As you plays with her hair

She wants me I can’t do that again

I leave to venture upstairs’

Where married couples

Turned to smoked clouded talks of my foes

I’ve run out of everything wrathful about myself

My kindness is hidden

My love deeply lost inside lies and lust

 I’m worth more than I appear

I just don’t care and never did to show it

Those so committed to death

Surely never face it bravely

Like a suicide note, lost to be never read

I lay scared and godly

On your memory

When I bury myself

Come visit when it’s your turn to leave beside the meaningless people you once cared to know

I’m waiting

You said

pathetic without being so

I wish sometimes.

Today, I was published.

• I seen the woman who asked me to marry her, then out of the -blue- just dropped me like I was nothing. This time, I can say I didn't do anything wrong.
• I still have some of her cds, plus a burned cd her ex boyfriend made for her out his heart. I listen to it, and feel sad for that Forest of Trees growing strong.
• a few months back, this lovely lady asked me to spend the night with her. I was very tweeked out and drunk.  we talked alot. and kissed. her boyfriend lived across the road from us. I felt bad. But she liked me and I choose the other girl over her. Now I wish I would have chose the woman that said I was smart and should be in college. Why do I hurt people so much. and let others hurt me.
• I am happy
• I got a call today from someone. I DO NOT HATE WOMEN. IT'S REALLY A JOKE.
• walt whitman is my best friend as of now
• emily dickinson is my girlfriend
• being sober is really like chanting and singing praises to God and Satan at the same time.
• I was so good to someone, just to hear they  were fucking their ex while they were engaged to me. This is what happens when you are an asshole. I don't even know if Im sad about this really.
• I wish I didn't leave the house. I don't really have to do anything. My family lets me be, what I am.
• I miss having friends.
• I miss having someone really loving me.
• There isn't really wrong with my mind. I was just selfish and mean.
• Let's die when the time is right.

The Philosophy of the Doomed

• The new Bukowski book at Hastings is way to much. So I just read it there. Took about half an hour. I was no longer bored.
• Been reading Walt Whitman alot. I am no longer writing poetry.
• Been reading "Philosophy in the Boudoir". I am no longer sexless.
• My friends are all growing into pretty ideas.
• The taste of Gin isn't doing it for me. I am no longer thinking about you.
• Something has to change. I am no longer talking on the phone.
• Cold home. I am no longer happy about you trying to love me.
• This was the last time I felt fear.
• I've seen the watchmen movie like 5 times.
• I read some of the book at my brothers. I hated it.
• I think hastings smells bad.  I am no longer in love with coffee.
• I wish I had alot money, I pay someone to kill the people I hated.
• I wish I had a car, I would drive it off the mountain drunk. I would live, and become a superhero and beat up women.
• Nothing makes me laugh, besides seeing a woman not wanting to have the baby in her belly. She keeps it cause, it was the right thing to do. She no longer feels like a slut!
• I love myself. I no longer hate being ugly.

How can I express, I no longer.

I’m this fantasy

I can’t deal with

I’m the image of this god, we no longer believe in

I’m a book of unwanted poetry, you no longer read

I’m don’t rotate with the universe

I enjoy the warm taste of morning left over beer I didn’t deserve to have

I enjoy the smells of morning hair that hasn’t be cleaned due to weekends of thought conventions

I don’t want this being the last thoughts and ideas you’ll have of me

When you put flowers over my grave

When you get tearful cause I did the leaving up to you

When I finally figured out there’s a heaven for people who are committed to suicide 

A heaven only shit writers belong to

I want better for the restless people

I want those that believed in my love to not be so foolish

I want my bed made by slaves

I want a house full of women begging for my full attention

If this earth is it

If I watch from the watching tower

As ants crawl over my hands as I write this

Then I’ll be forced into happiness

You dreamed up for me that night

When we held each other

Too close and the everlasting love I waited on become real for once

How dare we dare the angels to protect us again

Where can I draw the endless lies and lines

Where can I become a dull beggar form of truthfully loving someone

Where can I be

The holder of keys

That unlocked doors that fully just please

Did Whitman sit writing so bravely alone that he knew nothing else mattered

Did Robert Frost care, about the sciences of suicide

Did Plath, really want out that bad

Did Tennyson really need that many poems under his willful heart

Did Emily Dickinson really want to be stuck home, alone and desiring that long burden of not being in love

How do I fit in now

With my modern day poems and heartaches and dreams

I laze around and say this is the movement of the profoundly sad

I shut out the world

Only talking if there’s a ride to the booze store

Down the blackness of the wells

Again I drink until I felt like the unstoppable whale

Stuck on the dry bench

As onlookers and hero’s can’t do much for my death

Again I go unloved

Winter covers my faceless smile

You had everything with me

You have everything without me

So one last time

Hear me, I know you can

Visit this and this is what appears

You remain the ghost that sleeps

So quietly in my heart