PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

my body drags with leftover hangover sticky aftertaste of miller high life and 5 am basketball i house myself in wheeler classroom and piles of books the sun barely reaches through the window to touch me



you left 30 minutes ago i don't love you but whatever people think your cute even though your stupid hairdo is too indie for me bring the fro back and lets get down



i crack myself up even though sometimes i feel like stooping to the floor and listening to the ghosts living inside my lungs sometimes i feel like letting go to the hole inside my chest that oscillates soft slow and deeply when we are walking to peoples park basketball in hand skateboard under feet all this noise is great but can no one hear the memories sweeping through my neurons slapping my eyes and erasing today i cannot look at you anymore without looking past you to the days and days and days and days i spent looking at someone



else



sex is great sex is all good bodies and pheromones i could pretend to do this for a good amount of time before i admit to myself your a piece of shit i can come over and watch the office and watch your tshirt flow around you when you skateboard and drink another 12 pack of pabst and pretend and pretend and live and pretend and roll on



here i am again in an empty room with goosebumps i am very tired but to live i must feign waking and so you are here passing the hours until death touching me and moving beside me everything is fine i know that everything is fine in this hour of my life the sun comes out and even though it reminds me of another city an ocean a boy youve never met who loves me so much more than you ever will, i give me back to myself and allow myself to touch you, to pretend this could be ok for me, and to pull the blanket of you over my head as to avoid the approaching torrent of time