A strange, different world. A bizarre pain.

I won't lie down and beg for you
beauty has afforded me
a bitter pride that lowers me
in others eyes.
I'd rather sit alone and free
to think, than dull your heated star (by thought of me)
in my night sky. The only light I see.
The drifting of the Earth
would scarce judge me,
     so why is your pride
     worth more to me?

Yours is a widened road to cross.
Mine is a knowledge of my loss.
Victim to the same inconstance.

Is there no hopeful ending?

When I die,
might you come
to close my eyes?
When you look at me,
       stiff and white,
what will you see?
A (white-skinned) birch that drops its (dark) leaves.
A stream will join them in our cloudless sea.

here we go with the haikus again

dead leaves and sunlight
scattered on the redwood path --
webs brush our faces

the liberal arts

quote

I enjoy your nervous tick

what medications have you been on

I suffer from an anxiety disorder

I cried during the Hangover

because it was so offensive

I can't sit still

I don't like parties

I don't shave my legs

my life is a monologue

end quote

most of the time i just feel frustrated that there is another living breathing human in the same room as me and i am conscious that this is counterproductive to the process of "making friends" but i would prefer to remain in this mindset for as long as possible and in order to do so i require some music that was released in 2003 and all the angst i can muster

now if you'll excuse me

this isn't even a poem what is this

how 'bout instead of teaching children

Everybody Poops

with a book

parents everywhere lock their children

in a college dorm for a month

what horrors

the children will see--

pretty painted toenails

on the dirtiest bathroom floors

it's the quickest most efficient way

to learn that Everybody Poops

because the poopers are NEVER

THE PEOPLE YOU EXPECT--

always the daintiest of toenails

always the most lotiony of legs

---------------------------------------------

she lay panting on his velvety couch,

out of breath

after her ladylike discourse

on the proper method of raising children

her nostrils flared like a skirt

in a tampon commercial

Freud found

himself hopelessly,

hopelessly

in

love

with

her

THE END

strike it with flint
ignite the branch
wave it over your head
illuminate pitch blackness

neatly fold your clothes and leave them in the dirt
make sacrifices in dark ones names. start by:
cupping your hands about the shell of your ears
whistling into the dark and waiting for a returning note

the life of an architecture major

nothing says

quesadillas for dinner every night forever

like sixty bucks worth of concrete

in the trunk of my car

tried and failed

Today Barack Obama took me out to lunch
We went to Panera Bread. I forgot to put on deodorant,
dark gray armpit patches formed and dried, formed and dried

Barack Obama said you've looked better
I said yeah you too

We smiled, sipped sodas
Munched our $9 sandwiches
In an almost contented silence

He was polite, asked me questions
about school, church, home:

"School is challenging, I'm working hard and getting good grades"
"I go to church every Sunday, it helps me to help others"
"I'm so excited to go home for Christmas"

Barack Obama didn't call me out, he just smiled again, almost sadly
The man understands the necessity of lies

Formed and dried, formed and dried
Layers of uncertainty

King of the Surf Guitar

when you come to the end of the desert
there will be a great city on the shoreline
assembled from gasoline and light

this is the Idea of California
it can sterilize oceans
run aquifers to dust

find an all-night diner
order some apple pie and coffee
get comfortable

no more frontiers --
just this last chance
to watch the sun go down

almost went to bed early w/out a poem

Look, novice ember
No vices? I've got a laundry list...
You've watched me
Drink
Smoke
Fuck
Fight
Myself into oblivion
I started this fucking shit
As a way to get my mind
Off the ways of the world
And you all are wonderful
Reminders of its pain

But thank you.

Nietzsche's got a hold on me

a simple kind of man he

walked into my classroom told us he

majored in business for lack of

alternative ideas gets to

go to work in jeans and a t-shirt

the ground covered in masculine sweat that

smells of the oil he trades in some made up online

universe

he works from home now

so tranquil

says his alma mater's sports aren't quite as

good as they were in his prime 80's days

this Christian nihilism this

tranquility to watch the earth be

sucked dry in order to be able to

go to work in jeans and a t-shirt