incidentalcomics:

Writing a Poem

National Poetry month is almost over. Time to start riding/writing!

….i’m the one riding while writing and crashing into a tree

maaan, Gabriel Garcia Marquez rest, well and peacefully. beautiful beautiful one. you will always be a reason i write, if only to be more like you.

maaan, Gabriel Garcia Marquez rest, well and peacefully. beautiful beautiful one. you will always be a reason i write, if only to be more like you.

7:30. tv, dinners

being home again

in your grandmother’s house

at twenty-seven

post degree

post having money

pre- having real money

pre- doing what you really want to

pre- owning abosultely anything, really on your own

really puts into perspective

the whole

cookie cutter television family life

like, how the fuck

did all those full house kids really turn out

'cause i for damn sure can't be the only casualty

7.30 : breathing

y’know

that impatient gasping breath you take

after you’ve been underwater too long?

that’s how depression feels

like

you’re breathing now

so it’s kind of ok

but you’re not sure

if you’ll be able to go under

for that long again.

6.30 : why I sometimes treat you like shit

5.30 : asshole

i’ve always known I was an asshole

it just took the progression

the time running into the twenties and mixing

alcohol with depression and pop rocks

till my stomach couldn’t quell the fashionable storm

yes

yes

i’ve burped many an apology

and swallowed even more

but now

now

is not the time to ignore the Achilles racing round my moral fibre with a pickaxe and poisoned arrow

no

now

now is the time for action

now is the time to acknowledge every sore I’ve salted with well rehearsed storm swells of tongue

now is the time to repent for the loves, oh the loves that never fucking were, the one that currently is, and the one I hope she bears

now is the time, to break my knees praying for meek of heart to soak the sponge in something other than vinegar

now, now, is the fucking time, to stop breaking my back over mother’s grave looking for excuse and cursing heaven everytime the fall brings the bruise

now

my sweet pretty ones

is the time

to be

the asshole

i was molded

Clay

Sunshine

and Garden

in

 

"They tell us the people we love are 72.8% water-
there is no such thing as crying,
we are only trying to turn ourselves inside out.
This is a noble pursuit"

Lewis Mundt, excerpt from “Water” (via pigmenting)

(Someone quoted my poem and it’s gotten over 40,000 notes and that’s super, super bizarre to me.)

aperturemurder:


I can show you the world.

I DON’T WANT TO SEE IT

aperturemurder:

I can show you the world.

I DON’T WANT TO SEE IT

4.30 : through the door

under lawn is graves

wonder on its A’s

what cog? oh it saves

one gov owning slaves

none of rolling waves

run what only makes

rust stops, holy rays

bust shot, holes in strays

buck up cold sin weighs

but hark, pole’s in change

sus smart stolen sway

us part folding ways

nuts are sold all day

nutting, old and grey

nothing gold can stay

nothing gold can stay.

3.30

been hustling

make a mean turkey and avocado on rye

pour that tropic green tea

always hands the honey

his hands look like miner’s

but there are no mines here

nothing to dig under

or for

unless you want  to get to middle of earth

then you might just be able

to un-slumber the volcano

under Harrington sound

he’d roast a mean fishcake on that fire pit

i’m sure of it

i wonder if he wonders

every time I ask for extra hot sauce

how the fuck he got to be

flipping rockfish in skillets for tourists who just

haaaaaaaaaaaave to try the fish sandwich

no tartar

or serve girl from the bookstore

who needs her green tea

and sandwich

that she throws half away

because

y’know

calories

 

we both

be

wandering

finding common ground

when wares part

from one empty hand to another

one digger to another

with hands for shovels

sifting lava to pail

hoping that we make it 

to the other side