Kill Time.

I’m just here to kill time, I say,
So just kill time with me.
Help me strangle it before it strangles us.
We need to stop its ticking pulse,
So we can play off the beat.

There were futures, but I said kill time with me now.
We’ll twist up its forward and back.
It won’t be easy, but when we’ve made it,
We’ll feel its grip grow limp, its gaze grow vacant,
Its march stumble to stop in the path.

I wanna kill time with you,
And bury it deep in the sand.
They might dig up the fossils one day, I guess,
And think up who did it, they’ll know, more or less,
But we’ve got timeless space ’til then.

So why not murder time together?

For all the boys who called me “exotic”

I had heard it enough to know you meant:

That I was desirable so long as I was shrouded in that cloud of mystique
(which was mostly just the fog in your eyes
but I didn’t have the heart to point out the difference)

And your foggy eyes lit up when you saw in me
Some alien freak here to show you a whole new #$@%ing world
So I tried to say that I’m really from this planet
And you’re not really the center of it
And between the deadness of Venus and Mars
We’re all life on Earth just trying to make it

But as you looked down to Earth
All you could see
Was some exotic fruit here for your consumption
To suck on the flesh and throw out the core

Despite my best efforts, I seem to have become one of those people who writes emotional poetry on the internet. Oh well. 

I Don’t Want Your Sweet Nothings

I don’t want your sweet nothings
My ear’s numb to the taste
I’ll take the salt and the spice and the bitterness

I don’t want your sweet nothings
They ring empty inside me
Give me thick globs of somethings to chew and digest

I don’t need more sweet nothings
That’s not what I’m made of
You’re mistaken, my dear, if you thought I was less


Aspartame (a snippet)

You spoke to me with a voice that was sweeter than sugar. Two hundred times sweeter, to be precise: engineered and measured to the mark. Some would call it sickening, but swimming in the dark, bitter coffee, you could shine through like natural couldn’t.

And you never promised something real, just something better: guilt-free; an untraceable zero. So you could be my zero. And I was your zero.

So then somehow I was left with a gaping hole: empty with hunger and filled with hunger.

No one thought to calculate the aftertaste.