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Can you write the wordsTo say how absurd it is toHave anything more materialisticallyNothing would be worth itIt’s just buying shit and holdingOurselves up with corporeal thingsThis really is truly so empty withPeople dying being blown upIn the streets new shoesJust don’t matter to me like anotherRelationship a deeper friendship,Any reason to be more than thisTo mean more than thisThat’s what matters to meStuck in this Christmas treeConsciousness waiting for a packageOr decorating our surroundingsOf course building myself inside the…
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Strapped into my historySewn into my fleshGrind my bonesIn the dust of our friendship I’m creating all of theseBeautiful romantic thingsFor no one but myselfThat was never the plan Haunted by the memoriesIf the perfect parts of youWe’re actually realLiving inside my fantasiesSome kind of self torture What an acrid perfumeSomething of a coarse natureBlinding me with backhanded loveLike some dark magic This deep longing or homesicknessBeyond a place or time thatNo longer exists—or perhaps never did Turning on the…
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A house of cardsWaiting to fallTempted to breakDeturpateA vile place toCare for humanitiesAnd our rightsBy overshootingToreadorTo the souffléA dirty kitchenAll my eggs in one basketI insisted on biscuitsPeanut butter and jellyWhen will the truthFinally come outWe all bleed the sameCan we love from over thereDo we have to hurtDevastate one anotherJust to hold one another againMaybe imperfectly so © thebadpoet
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poems
thebadpoet 