maudlin

bits of mullein in the light
my gentle promiss
persuasion song
hello?
it's my last time, roll a louisiana cigarette
some hickory street smoke
no
something about it
something about me liking
something about me
I'm liking me
the acoustics I'm all about
my environment, you know
my environment

I love Kyle
I love Kayla

but they won't be coming back
....................................................................
last night at 8241 Hickory St, New Orleans

bros

boys sitting around drawing portraits of flowers
boys laying in platonic bed together
with candlelights
boys telling each other that this song reminds them of their exgirlfriends
and then telling the story why
boys weeping when they drive
or when that phosphorescent song plays
boys in sleepingbags that smell like sweaty girls
boys apologizing to one another for being dicks
boys explaining why they're being dicks
boys talking on the phone for hours
boys buying boyznberry pie
boys crying when they pass the bookstore
or a tall road
or a tunnel
boys understanding other crying boys

solonge

my last night at gayulz. hooooowwww do i put this. i don't know, i'm just a man. if anyone tries to get me to do aaanything before noon, i am such a sucker. i am writing a goodbye poem. i have full sentences now

okay, i don't

i am a liar

i haven't told you guys i'm a liar

which isn't even true, i'm just trying

to be a man in this world

when am i gonna fall in love again?

i don't know, what

are you doing

later?

okay, i do

i know what to say in a goodbye

dear... what even are you? i've moved in & out from you

3 times

i've never moved into & outof something like that

it's okay that i never want to see you again

that the last thing i want to see

before i leave is the worst part of you

the dank scary underground

with the stupid song 

the darkness

the place i kicked someone over

and would scrape someone off

the scary underground

that was my underground rumble

i am ready to destroy that shit

there's no paper in the world

strong enough to clean 

me

in the middle to explain what I'll do

prettylittle 19 - 21

In the middle, I spied him. How I do, & does everyone, remember us at an early morning escape, ascending from all between & this that in the dark. Driving that night, in from the drunk-stench, wearing black knits. But now as always... aphonia. Your father’s long journey home with a poolstick as prop. I suppose this loss of voice, I think of it as explanation. The only song is organic, & so we were. I feel like I recognized him. He looked on my nerves, as functional disturbance. Driving down, that’s worse than staying nervously around, wondering symbolic. The vocal organs, late at night. About this, persuade me from the feigned passionate speechlessness. 

It was in January, simple. Having to enter, that sadness expressed by muteness. Days after we met, staying nights. Loss and apoplexy, and I, sitting over there. Of course he used longing as his sudden loss. In the passenger seat, be tempted, and see someone, relate to the song. Body function turquoise if he comes. She has since asked him never to. To all the impunity we were listening; we asked him to leave, return, and he agreed. Nothing but things I doubt presently. I know, knowing it. I’ll throw approbation. 

Before now I’m hungry for it, all terrible habitations. I’m serious this time, approving, and we both want sex badly. He wore black when I announced that formally, officially; we looked over to the left at the same exact moment. Sex loneliness at the risk of a tune. Praise the empty, even. Maybe I won’t as I don’t believe, I had the arboreal lot. Any sex that’s pleasure, chiefly empty (it was usually empty). Maybe the desire will be what they were. Right now animals caught our eyes, overwhelmingly. Not altogether uncute. I have made it, living in trees, empty, but filled platonic. He looked quietly in my trees; hundreds of you are thinking unimpressive. This was less arcanum, tiny, I suppose, still very pretty. But should one need a secret, a mystery lines up in rows to explain what I’ll do.

I can't like should care am listening can't

I can't remember why I hated you. I don't like bike gangs. I cannot be affiliated with one, though I like the idea of them very much.

It's cooler to meet someone outside a party than in it.

I should be looking to the girls... Skip a cock though I maybe have never learned to skip rocks on a pond.

I don't care; I maybe drunk stoned and tired. Or one or some of the above.

I am sure that moon memorabilia is for a purpose that I like so much. It is.....okay, just the moon & me......

I am listening to this song: "I leave the party at three am alone thank god"

true - Budweiser

And, this song I can't stand the rain by tina turner always comes on. Never wrong