spiritual base
she looks up at me, devilish yet eagerly angelic
kinds of girls who i’d ride & die with
cute in their own way, intrigue never fades
from the first date to the 69th to the 101st
no girl is mine, but i may be some girl’s
i’m a real bitch when it comes to some
in my bag about a few… some sad boy blues
die so casually… love & drugs along with her eyes
staring into my soul to harness my vulnerabilities
into the void, out the void, into & out, into & out
void within my ribcage only a few could cure
moments pass, cigarette ash, could it last?
a little ways to go before it’s over
business to take care of, then it starts up again
playful fights about the little shit
jus to fuck & take care of our head
clears shit up… not drowning, jus swimming
tossed about the sheets close to her heart
lust & love simultaneously
guess i’ll sip a bit of liquor, a little night cap
music floods into the bedroom
she’s playing some Frank Ocean
wax & wane of the moon until dawn
sun peaks in through the shades
comforting orange glow of early sunrise
the initial onset of light pouring in
coffee brews up with our eyes half asleep
the only real way to wake up from this slumber
she sips at her coffee
then throws on a Daniel Caesar vinyl
days blend together
bed’s been slept in
& i keep making my way to the corner store
for coffee, tea, cigarettes, beer & vodka
still got so many books to finish half read
and shows to binge half watched
she’s reading Sylvia Plath & Leonard Cohen
i read some Dylan Thomas & Mary Oliver
i reread Bukowski over & over… never gets old
10th Anniversary Milk & Honey on the coffee table
we flip on Shameless, The Bear, Animal Kingdom, Bojack, etc. & rewatch a million other shows
between art, vice & girls i’ll be set for a million years & counting. shit keeps me entertained
even with jus $20 a day in my pocket
i’ll make it work
she comes home from work looking like a dime
the homie’s flipping it for dimes
& i’m doing jus fine
things around here jus fine
they all pull up & we roll in peace
Kodak bumping at the after party
we’re all jus waiting to come up & get off
she gets off work & comes up to the crib
i come up off whatever
and in time we all get off
another day fades away to a howling moon
dawn’s sun kissed morning to wake us up
days all a blur
the coffee, tea, cigarettes, beer & vodka
the books half read & shows half binged
music flooding into the room off a speaker
about one nice thought for every dirty one
chilling in my head, in my head, in my head
into & out the void, within & without
the princess saves the boy in this one
a million times. so dead, so alive…
everyday, living for the pain & pleasure of it all
dwelling in comfortable space — blessed universe
all this art, all these vices, all these girls
how could one ever be bored in the modern age?
if anything, we’re all jus a little tired, half asleep
realign with the universes’s core energy
work shit out, go on a walk or run, lift some weights then meditate with some yoga & decompress, sleep well & find peace in it all
there’s a time & place for everything
under the same moon, under the same sun
we jus can’t get too stuck in our ways
unless it’s not broke, then don’t fix it
all this art, all these vices, all these girls
under her spell
spell cast
overcast
mischievous glance
cross at the altar
your poetry skirts out of bullshit’s way
cute bird, trembling wind
a million books i’ll never read
i was never much of a reader
jus a nobody amidst citizens
cigarettes lit under a blanket of stars
impossible to cozy up mid-Summer
you had a soothing way about you
hard to miss
guess it’s easy to miss you
all my work is acceptable trash
enough jus to see ink on paper
at some point, we all return from where we came
high in the backwoods
guess it’d be nice to pass away
notes/ June 5th
…some notes from a Friday in June.
—
nothing to do, jus so much to meditate on
…
tragic how cute she is
…
coffee… need coffee & good head
…
Bible on my dashboard, cigs in the cup holder
…
i made it out the mud thanks to God most high
…
i roll up when the vibes lit
…
jus a known nobody
…
top notch hoes deserve the most
…
i don’t write poetry, it jus spills over onto the page
…
culture connoisseur
…
everything & yet nothing at all
…
broken back, arrow in the heart
…
slumped peak, peaked slumps
…
stitched up heart, slit wrist, flits of movement
…
some people die jus to be seen
…
everyone jus wants another to notice
…
gas pack for $7
…
do i really need to write anymore?
…
book on the drawer
cotton thread
woven fabric
soft touch
music blazes the crisp edge
glazed daze in a haze
shit’s not jus a phase
bumming a smoke
bumming about her or whoever
love language via music
coffee on the counter
something new to busy with
idle hands occupied
spring bloom & whatever
…
do i really need to write anymore?
˚☽˚.⋆ 
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