the battle.

Sometimes it’s hard
But I don’t want that connotation
Of love and strength and devotion
Oftentimes I am weak
Tired and pushed by inner bounds that creak
Wreak havoc on theĀ mental peace
And I am straining in the ordinariness
Comfortable bounds of everyday
I suppose itĀ speaks to the restlessness that
Writhes in the veins
But I want to give in
It would be so easy
To message him
Be on his front step in 30
But what good would that do
Possible rejection repercussions
Of more than a few nights, months
These memories and sensations
Can ransack vestiges of self left
It bites and wants to claw
Every which way it can
But which wolf do I feed?
Why couldn’t it be more simply
A benign equation
I am trying to put off
By substituting my means to the end
It’s either manifesting in thoughts
Wanting to be caught up
In his bed.
But there is no love lost there
Just hips piston in a release
There is no sympathy here
Only an agreement prior and trite
Respect after the claiming.
Why do we fight everyday?
Why not immerse in self
Accept we sometimes cannot reclaim
What we have given up so easily
I am tired but it’s not over,
That fight
I’ll rise again
Because I have to
Sing a happier song before the onslaught of plight
And be wearied by mental battering
Ramming at defenses nigh high.

the problem.

i will not come to you anymore
biting, scatching, burning

nuzzling, huggling in imitations
of a face
i wanted to know
but hardly, truly knew

and i know this is rattled out on a Sunday morning
and my emotions cave
like a porous clanging
amorous teeming with
mental unstability

i can’t deal with me,
these times.
hozier’s crooning
gets me by,
but there are bigger things at stake

friendship teetering on scales
and background singers
whose sail of vibrato
is the only thread connecting me to reality.

i sometimes get sad at the slightest thing,
because all you wanted to do is protect me;
and if i could,
the self-destructive button would be pressed immediately
to rapidly turn around
when scorned, refused
i am tired
of wanting myself to be used
constantly crawling back
in lieu of friendship, the things we lack
the problem is
we’re not that for each other
so let me face this fact.


blue, green

To want to be touched and loved by
Somebody –
Is that how we operate?
You like how I feel against your skin, heart, face
And I, I think and see a being worthwhile
in someone broken and forlorn.
Is it just me torn?
Or do we entirely operate unaware?
I do like the stare and heat
it’s your eyes on me and hands
that make do –
how they shape and form my mismatched attitudes
how to deal
when the deal is we like comfort
and sex is one other most perfect heady brew but you
stir and bring out a rise in me
i’m always like swift with poetical lyrics
a song in mind.
Tim you are, one helluva guy.
It’s to your smiles, laughs, and those Yaaaaaas’s
Expressions that make me smile
To your genuine curiosity
wanting to better yourself and to living your life
it’s to those moments i thought I’d be done
writing you a line
But all I have is words and colors that you told me
that you liked
So Tim,
no matter where you, we,
find ourselves in time –
I’ll wish you the utmost best
to being one helluva guy.


Straight up.