Script 101001

Script 101001

This is what we get


Sighs split

Like the lips of a toddler

In the wintertime


It feels like I’ve been drinking this beer for the past four years

You’ve got your addictions, and I’ve got mine.


I’ve been reading a lot of Raymond Carver

Douglas Coupland and Bukowski

Angry(?) Disgruntled White Men


I admit it’s not a very diverse reading list, but

It’s a list nonetheless

At least I’m reading again


I get Nosebleeds in the shower

An image I’ve struggled to adapt

An image of rubble,

Nothing concrete


Those incomplete stories

That hit so well in your mind,

But have something lost in person


Fragments of something

Worth putting out there,

Bricks crashing onto pavement

That’s all I’ve got


My eyes feel blurry,

Maybe they’ve always been

20/20, my ass


I don’t wanna see anything anyways

There’s too much truth revealed

Through the eyes

I think I’ll start with some audiobooks


Will I keep writing this shit?

This vague, hazy, I don’t really know what I want to say



Seems like it


There’s a house at the end of this street,

But no home around here

And there’s a coin in my drink

With no explanation,


I reflect upon

The lifespan of my words

They barely survive being put unto the page

Before they crumble into nothing

Worthless script


Don’t need a magnifying glass

To decipher my ass

Just squint until your eyes water


Nubile insecurities masked by wet dreams

A 14 year old’s death is never as it seems


That rhyme was unintentional

I hate rhyming poems

They feel hack-y

And that’s coming from a hack, so…


.put the period before the sentence

Maybe that will spark the absurdism

I crave

Maybe it’ll just drive the editor crazy


There’s never a perfect conclusion to these things

When you ramble,

When do you stop?






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