For A

 

You hold on to every guy you touch,
like he is the only thing protecting you from the fires of hell surrounding you;
but the fires are on the inside.
Take a look at your soul.
It’s burning;

almost as fast as mine.

something about loneliness

Stop!
You have the wrong man.
I'm no good,
let's face it.
I'm lousy.
I'm a lousy poet.
I'm a lousy writer.
I'm a lousy reader.
I'm no good at speaking, or talking, or listening.
I'm a lousy musician.
I can't sing, I can't play.
I'm a lousy dancer.
I'm a lousy runner.
I'm a lousy hiker.
I'm a lousy biker.
I'm a lousy aritist.
I'm a lousy teacher.
I'm a lousy person.

I'm a lousy lover.

I have nothing going for me.
I'm no good at anything.
except being alone.
I'm a magnificent artist
when loneliness is my canvas.
Maybe it's my openess for it
or my acceptance towards it,
maybe it's simply because
I can go anywhere, and do anything
alone.
I don't know why i'm so profound.
But I do know
that when i hear my loneliness
when I see my loneliness
when I truly FEEL my lonliness
I almost feel happier.

Sing, read, drink, smoke, dance, fish, hike.
whatever you can think of, I can do,
alone.
I never said i'd be happy
no.
Happiness is not the pack i have learned to carry over the years
I don't want to use words like sad, or depressed, or hateful, or unhappy, or bitter, or blue, or somber, heavy-hearted, grieved remorseful, sorrowful, melancoly, gloomy, diseased, broken, low, down, hurt, feeble, or heartsick
but how can I not?
When it's what i've grown to be.
How can i tell you how I feel?
What am i supposed to say?
"I won't make it till tomorow?"

You say my poetry is depressing.
My poetry is MY SOUL on a page.
It's my SOUL in words, in letters.
I'm a sick, sick man.
My mind has been poisoned with this disease.
It's all i can think of.
It's all i have in my heart.
Suicide is in my head.
Anger is all i feel in my hands.

My heart has grown heavy.
It grows sicker every day
It's shriveled.
It's whitering away.
It's growing weak;
like that of my will to live.