hello

i want to kiss damien rice, drink with ernest hemingway and marry f scott fitzgerald

have a nice day

my gay self

my gay poetry

im sick of poetic bullshit. the best way 2 sum me up is that im so depressed everything is funny and i think im the best fuckers

i'm the biggest faggot

I lean against the wooden door frame,
You stand by the stairs;

You’ve played a game this time I don’t quite
understand, and I don’t understand
why you’d be so fucking crude as to
place all the blame onto
me?

I pull myself away from you ,
You stand by your sisters bedroom.  

it’s amazing
how much life someone can experience
from a hospital bed.

6 years and
7 months and
8 days
before you met me you’d spent
8 years and
7 months and
6 days
tied to one 

you were brought into the world
from the same bed
you died twice in.

it’s odd to think i’ve spent
7 more minutes in this world
than you have. 

you pull the trigger and
i hold my breath.

there were three 
nights in a row. 

you pull the trigger and
three weeks after your death
they let me hold you
one last time. 

the floor by your bed
looks better than my
bed
i just only ever want
to share my bed
with you , i would only
ever want to share my
head with you , i want
to absorb your head ,
sleep in your
bed , eat bread with you
by that window ,( the one
you smoke out of ), 
sleep in your bed ,
wake up to those beautiful
eyes , breathe in your
breath , inhale it
into my lungs , exhale
it out of the window by
your bed , i want to
wake up in that bed ,
see your head next to
my pillow , kiss those
moles on your chest ,
kiss the bread crumbs ,
in that bed ,
i love the floor by your
bed , all i can see is
red , i love the bread on
your bed , 
(red) , i love the bread
head , red , all i can see
is your head , red?, i can
smell bread , red ,
swelled head , help i love
the floor , there’s so
much left unread , your head ,
love , bed , i have left
so much

unsaid 

red

i trembled when i saw your
words fall down the showers
plug and disintegrate into

shallow shrugs-

it was painful to watch.

i couldn’t even hold onto you
because the water was soaking
the room up and i haven’t
swam in so long…

i watched you drown.

i’m going to kill the bastard
and his father for
tearing away your
beautiful skin so that
i could never meet
all of you.

i fucking hate this

please be okay 

i’m pretty sure i
don’t miss you

scratch that-      i’m certain.

i certainly don’t miss your
bitchy comments on every
passer-by

and that stupid-fucking-lie
you told your entire college
class that time

i don’t miss being moaned
at for looking better than you
on your birthday

and everyone thinking we were gay

i don’t miss having no other friends
but you
while you sat at the top of the
social throne

 i don’t miss the sick jokes
about my boyfriend
and how, 
for 1.7 million,
you’d love to have your leg
cut off
(he doesn’t miss you, either)

and yeah, you may not be like
all my best friends before:
you didn’t
fall in love with me
            then stop talking to me
you didn’t make me
do all your homework 
            then stop talking to me
you didn’t move to
Australia
            then stop talking to me

                         No 

you just stopped speaking
                            replying
                            phoning,
only keeping contact to find out
the gossip for all your
cronies

and yeah, maybe the sudden
corruption in communication 
may have been upsetting at
the time

but in hindsight

it may be the best thing

that has ever happened

to

me (and not to you for once) 

What do you regret?

My ten year old suicide
note consisted of my
sorries for cheating in
hide & seek, and the
truth to all my lies.

the devils most ugly
ideology was
convincing the world
he wasn’t really
you.

why does no one
know the causes
for forgetting & for
regretting?

I regret not taking
a picture for every-
day of my life.

and why will no
one ever look the
thing that kills them
in the eye?

When asked my biggest regret:

I answer:

My perfectly composed
but ultimately failed
childhood suicide note and

kissing you
The night I should’ve kissed Mary.

5+2=7

don’t give me anymore drugs

you said
when you were 10

don’t give me-

but your words oozed
and were blue and
didn’t make any sense
as you came
in and
out
of the conscious  
serendipity
that was your
life.

you kept asking for 7 minutes.

opening brown eyes to meet
your mothers and your fathers
and our Father and

why didn’t they listen?
when you screamed
in the sea
that you didn’t want to be
on the ward with the cancer kids and
beaten kids because you
were a normal 10 year old boy
with the spark to be
a superstar

who now wasn’t far from
being lost in the sea
with your
soul and limbs. 

it’s amazing how much
life you can experience
from a hospital bed. 

you lost your virginity to me on
(once your own but
now) our
bed

that night you didn’t remove
your limbs and you
kept the conversation flowing
and you chose to kiss me
of all the things you could
choose to ever do

it wasn’t even as if
you didn’t want to.
right after you admitted;
'i've been wanting to
do that all day,’
and boy do we know;
we had had a long day.

soon enough you were feeling
my arms and the last time
this had happened i felt
harm and blue but no desire-

but this time,
our first time’s,
you made me feel new. 

i’ve loved you then
i’ve loved you now
you’re all i’ve thought of for
the past
364 days/
i’ll think of you for
the future
29219/

baby you’re my best friend,
don’t ever wave goodbye

baby you’re my best friend,
let’s go get high
on durnford street.

baby, staddon heights is burning
heat
i’ve stitched your name
into all my headbands

i love it when you play guitar
but still love me with all your fans.

meet me in 29219 days
i’ll show you baby
i’ve thought of you for all this time.