"i call you now to tell you i'm thinking of you"

Here is a poem I wrote a while back. I read T.S. Eliot and play violent video games. Fuck you!

“fallout: new vegas staedy”

shifty eyed. but without calculations

just out from under the overpass

i sat and stared forward

cigarette in hand or mouth, i was a little high

as i remember i happily thought:

this is how i must feel when i’m asleep

some things surprise like pay phones

they muffle and shuffle

just on the edge of the periphery

tremble and mutter and then appear

as if without warning, but never a sharp shock

impermanent,  unlike the water

which never wavers as i sit and smoke and stare

it is steady, i am not

if only love could be steady

not fraught with frail inadequacies

but if it didn't need taking care  of

it wouldn't hold any value

the things we push to protect

are the things that sustain us

not the steady pulse of the river

but the heartbeat of a lover

when she lays her head on my chest

i forget about my sorrow

i forget about the water, i forget about my pen

but when i pick that up

i do so only to exalt her

"i saw you from that second story window"

It's been a while, but here is something new. I wrote it on a bus, on my way to buy weed. I was thinking about a conversation I had had with a girl the previous evening. We were talking about tense (really nerdy, I realize) and she kept using the word "tension" instead. It intrigued me. That's where it started, but then it gets weird, I have ideas, I think I know what it's about but nothing I want to elaborate on.

“t/t”

in regards to

tense and tension

we all need

a little help

never this quiet

we play out past lives

recount past lovers

plan future love affairs too

when you whisper

like a blanket

i am conformed

and comforted

when i whisper

like a blanket

you are comforted

and condemned

spend some time apart

we will think

future thoughts, rainbow metaphors

tensions giving in

if you return

i might be here

think of words

and how i will use them 

"the way that you look at me now/makes me wish i was you""

Poem I wrote on the walk home tonight, fully edited, any typos are intentional. 

"summersuckskids"

i make up, and loose

small poems, martyrs to the cause

to make up for the lines

i can save, pin to paper

here's where we're at, kids

we're stuck on poetry

my brain melts, it

gets stuck, it

 gets lusting after words 

when should go whistlin' after women

a treaty, a soft savior, a begging

please stop the goddamn, god

i barely write seventeen lines, and, thems are awful

too damn high and too damn hot

i sweat, and i stumble, i juggle and i pop

my poetics get mangled, i'm a shambles

but i'm always getting better, you can maybe watch

"Maybe the morning air will make me feel better/Oh, I hope better than I feel right now"

New poem I wrote on my phone on a bus last week. 

"ourselves"

book of my life

there have been valuable contributors

fuck the poetry

there are those i could have done without

ah but you don't mean that

i mean  every word i say

you should not believe a word i say

base ideas come from instincts

we should not struggle to be higher, we should obey

oh, but this is foolish, this is nuisance

i clutter, or i ember

i brave or i fade

i encumber

aloof, freedom from oblivion

a loss for words, not for thoughts

we look forward

we crowd in our courage and discrepancies and conundrums

we soothe to be happy

fraught  dissipates

ourselves, just ourselves

"drove yourself here so you might as well stay" "Colors don't change when your life is strange"/Go Hawks

 This is an odd one.I very much feel like I had to wrestle this poem into being, but at the same time it felt very natural, like it came into existence almost fully formed. I just had to prune it a bit, adjust the grammar, show it how to wear its makeup.. The stories told here are almost 100% true.. that isn't something that happens very often. Enjoy. Go Hawks.

"winter (football, fallout)"

a crowd gathered outside a bar

to watch a football game

this was beauty

there was love and hope

this was my city at its finest

a week earlier, game before

a girl, we broke, she drove me home

through the audacity of post-game traffic

we were trapped, so we talked

honesty at last

i told her “life is compromise”

she said “maybe that’s why we can’t work”

i shrugged, offered to get out

she concurred, i obliged

grabbed my bag, went into the street, focused and unsmiling

these incidents were connected

by something i’m normally indifferent to

football season dies as winter limps into its climax

i’m dreading fallout

but praying for celebration