Poems

the way i write these:

i focus intensely on a specific emotionally intense feeling or situation
write words that feel good and fit with that emotion
stitch them together and edit them into somethign that fits the story i want

dust for me - dec 19 2025

i do this to impress you
not because you impress me

i do this to imprison you
not because i want to be free

i don't want you
i want you to want me

my shaking fingers try
to weave back together the flesh
to feel strength again in my hands

you are dust floating in the wind
attracted to my draft
pulled into my loving arms
that gently strangle you

i don't do this
for you
i do this
for me

the inside with no outside - dec 18 2025

i want to bleed myself dry
to let the water in my veins seep out and pool around my toes
to holler at my bones for not supporting their own weight

the light blinds me
god lives around me but never within
i greed for what is in you to be in me

my soul bleeds to void
as my body falls into beautiful red and red and red
as the sky lowers itself to halt my rise

i plead with the darkest and weakest to take my place
to carry on their backs the weight of utopia
to carry me to my purpose so that i may die living

this poem is about:

the internal battle of wanting to live a life maximizing my own joy vs a life maximizing the joy of others/utilitarian ethics

decaying into love - dec 16 2025

decaying within my mind
a man i thought dead
awakens screaming
do you hear him like i do?

his fingers burst through my skull
and he rips me in two
as he smiles at your empty glow
did you notice a difference?

we never wanted you
we just wanted
to burn ourselves onto your chest
to tear away the flesh of your neck

but now, we try to stand tall
we cannot meet your gaze
we saw off our hands
and drop them by your feet
you look at us
as if we are everything
and leave without a word

our hands rot
as we wait for you to return
for you to see our mind
to see our beauty
to see me

sand - jun 30 2025

i am content to lie down
as the world
washes past me
and i end up
buried
deeper
and deeper
in the sand
until i cannot
breathe

grand stretch of death - dec 23 2024

how lovely the sight
of the grand stretch of death
that inherits the space
where my chest once was

gaping and bleeding
i carry to the shore
the red bloody pulp
once in my chest
now gone
i hurl it into the ocean

goodbye, goodbye,
you don't know the
pain
of saying
goodbye
without having the chance to
hate
those who wronged you

you are left to die
without a reason
without a care
for the wrongs that plagued you

wisdom - mar 9 2024

Does the wise man hear his words,
or do they blow past in the wind?
Is there something special about words?
Are words wind?

The wind blows quietly --
North to South --
South to North.

It will never cease --
always there,
even if you never feel it.

I sit in my attic,
writing these words,
thinking myself a wise man.

I am a liar.
I am not wise.
I am simply the wind.

waning thought - mar 9 2024

you are never to know again
the words that long
to stay around
for a while,
fighting,
failing.

fart god - ?

(this was a rather offensive joke poem i wrote and sent to my brother Jude)

Jude is a fart monster
stink rips from his butthole
like knives that slash your nostrils

it makes me wonder ...
is it a purposeful sabotage?
or an act of God?

God towers high in the heavens
casting love and prosperity where light lands
it's unfortunate that light never lands
on our planet Earth

a girl, her name is Meera
she was always the happy one
the one who laughed at everything
always smiling, always playing

now her body floats in the flooded street
limp, eyes open
she believed in Allah
torture her in hell, God says

but worst of all
Jude's farts still poison my air
I bear through, for the hope
that one day I will fart on God

desert - mar 3 2024

my love is a desert
my mouth is parched, dry as gravel
and my heart
stuck in the choking grasp of desire
for the ocean blue lake called love

i imagine myself drinking water
but mirages plague my life
hours i toil away, staring at the sand
throwing it around
and imagining a spray of ocean mist

i imagine the desert an ocean
but the more time i spend
tooling and splashing
the more cracks in the veil i see
what i imagined an ocean
is a hot beaming desert
that sucks the life out of me