By Default

11 Oct

I’m a no-talent,
worthless nobody,
I matter to no one,
I’m the last choice,
back-up plan when
the one you really want
just doesn’t pan out.
Im a character actor but
never a leading man,
I have nothing to offer,
no followers or fans.
I am a total waste of
precious fucking space,
I’m an after-thought,
a complete disgrace.
Nobody notices me
whenever I walk by,
I’m utterly invisible so
I might as well just die.
I’m absolutely regrettable,
replaceable and forgettable,
wrong place, wrong time,
my story’s not amendable.
I’m not even likable,
redeemable or commendable,
I’m that pesky piece of gum
that’s stuck to the bottom
of your favorite pair of shoes.
I am a loser, a dead-beat,
devoid of a personality,
nobody will ever love me,
I am doomed to be alone.

The Dialect of Darkness

9 Oct

What is this feeling
inside of me
that never seems
to subside,
that desire to hide
far away from the world,
curled up into a ball
a mind fallen in despair,
never leaving my bed
for fear nobody cares,
who am I anyway and
who do I want to be,
do I crave invisibility or
do I want everyone to see,
my pain,
my vanity,
my irrationality,
my insecurity,
my immaturity,
and my fear
of being alone;
I am a man who’s lost,
a man without a home
just trying to find
some peace before
this life of mine
is gone.

At Your Feet

6 Oct

I’ve watched you
like an opera,
a spectator from afar,
I’ve admired the way
you move and how
you’ve risen like a star.
To love is just to lose
oneself into another,
and like a game of chess
a winner only wins when
the loser can’t recover.

The Double

3 Oct

I wear my heart
on my sleeve and
I always pour myself
into every line I pen,
all my love and lust,
my hate and rage,
every single emotion
I’ve felt fills the page,
despite the urge to
write a bunch of lies,
to create a “me” that
I no longer despise,
an alter ego that I’ve
crafted to be likable,
a version of myself
that never ever dies.


2 Oct

Fluttering down
from that pedestal
I’d put you upon,
all feathers and leather,
together at last,
our past converging
on the present,
two bodies colliding
with no hiding of emotions
or sentient prescience
of uncertain futures
invading our solitude,
just inexorably connected
in a physical expression
of a love that extends
beyond any comprehension,
an unrequited lust
that must be quenched,
skin against skin and
drenched in sweat,
two pairs of hungry eyes
that finally met,
lost in a moment
and totally consumed
in a reckless abandon,
defying all logic and reason,
succumbing to a pleasure
that cannot be measured,
a non quantifiable feeling
that can only be described
as fucking indescribable.

The Morning After

29 Sep

The story always ends
the very same way
despite it always starting
different every single day,
you love me, you hate me,
you can’t live another
moment without me,
until the morning after
when perceptions realign
and you’re no longer mine,
how many countless times
has this cycle been repeating,
how I always find myself
replaying our fateful meeting,
but fleeting is a wish made
every night before bed,
knowing all too well that
a favorable outcome is just
a dream inside my head.


28 Sep

Laid out on my back,
the sea beneath,
I draw a breath
and begin to see
the past converging
on the present
and the future’s spent
swallowing my soul,
taking me places
I never thought
possible to go.
My body washed
towards the shore,
but my mind is still
lost, long overboard,
still drifting to you
in the ocean of time,
always hoping to find
a place called home.


25 Sep

I remember lots of things,
like the smell of sea salt
in your hair,
or the softness of your lips
and the wetness of your tongue,
the warmth that I felt
when I was inside you,
but the one thing
that I remember most
is how much I enjoyed
hitting you for the first time,
the beautiful bruises I left
which you wore proudly
like a badge of honor,
and my only wish,
my only recurring dream,
is tearing off your jeans
so I can do it all again
…and again
……and again!


14 Sep

All these bars we’ve closed
and all the burned bridges,
all these scars that remain
even after removed stitches,
we both know what this is
despite our attempts to deny,
I’ve wasted all these tears
chasing you down streets
of wasted years and leftover
feelings of hanging on tight,
and yet here I am still fighting
for you and me to be excused
for being caught in the middle,
of our own shit that won’t subside
and can you blame me for trying,
can you blame me for caring
and never giving up on this
tide that’s just now turning.


10 Sep

there are
during the day,
in which I feel as if
my muse has left me;
not simply inspiration
taking a needed break,
or my thoughts taking time
trying to find some answers,
but that it just left me, empty,
like a house, that’s vacant inside,
nothing to seek or find anymore,
like a mind abandoned beneath
the creaky wooden floorboards,
an afterthought, gathering dust,
or a limb that’s withered away,
wasted and taking up space,
displacing the emptiness yet
never really taking it’s place.


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