1/26/26 Im High, Here’s my Poem Dump Blah

got high and stayed up all night writing poetry… of course me. - . -“ 

well here you go! this one is about when i accidentally flashed a guy that passed by my house when i was trying to get my cleaning supplies in the next room over in only my bra and pajama pants. i felt horrible guilt about it. it was on my Google Docs and I’m typing this on mobile ,honestly,so im sorry about the formatting..

Taking a cigarette out in my balconette

I’m not trying to dance naked for my neighbors

I’m just too tired to look nice, then

A shiny white pickup truck speeds by

In my balconette, it’s just a job

Most aren’t equipped to handle

To vignette the untasteful takes too long, and

There are so many things

no one else wants to do but you and me. 

But to take my time is the key

By tonight I come home to smoke a cigarette

Take off my balconette, I must put myself to sleep

To do so, I dream of fast Corvettes

and of shiny pickup girls in lacy balconettes. 

here is another one i wrote about my dad and my schizophrenia!

Snuggled into bed, startled by a karmic temptress

Walking up the four corners of my tiny night

Someone must have sent them because I am so perverted

I cannot see the furrow in your brow, but I know you are angry

Its skin is charred to the bone

Reaching for me, if I pretend to be asleep

Maybe I won’t make a sound

If I notice it was a bad thing there

You’d hide

If I insist you are a poltergeist

And shout towards you from the ceiling, only I dreamt you’d land on top of me,

I’d be my own guardian

And then, maybe once I smarten up, salt and burn it all,

this room will be mine, right?

This one is for my wife :) but i just rambled  i never sent it to her.

When you’re home: I worked so hard that I rejoiced in the daydream of your absence

then I remembered that you’d rather massage my shoulders than think about it

See you later: so, what’ll it be

the next time: angel hair or a hand-painted spitroast?

I think that it will always be hard to be completely alone. 

This one is called the sailor of Pisces but I don’t like it that much. Whatever

I stepped into an astrologer’s home

Musked with aspen and thyme, her candles running low

She didn’t have time for me, and glanced at my inner cosmology

Her eyes burned bright when she said to steer clear of the sea

And when I set aside the curtain, muttered Jupiter wouldn’t allow it 

That summer, I made a round trip across a barren island,

its only landmark a fortress with flowers dense along the parapet

Then a rusted cannon that had long forgotten its purpose

lapped at my spinning head, and I marked it with a meaning I wouldn’t forget

I grew into the dream and

poisoned myself with sunrays for fuck-all

Each hemisphere found itself crossed and couldn’t stand the sight of me

I threw myself at the locals feet in their sympathy

And lost myself cornered at the edge of a cliff

Warm with chassiere and snot to my silky bolero 

It’s unimportant anywhere you take this picture 

This one is also about my wife :o)

It’s a worn dance on a small canvas

What a sweet thing it is

To live distended and drug-dry

She’s at frayed ends of a piling discard

Terrors from last night’s sugar high

If you will so I won’t cry

Morning is a novel water and oil

For a temple that snaps its doors 

Offered aside the smoked roots 

I pulled out of your head I promise

That your burning aura won’t hold to

Much longer now’s a blank afternoon

You wish I had seen you sooner then

Tidying the warmth inside of its ringlets

It’s one hand starving against the fuel

The wild cinders belong to mine

Carrying sickly vagabonds

Pained to crawl into your bitter bed

One to split a fragile pirouette

Two shards won’t say they’re kind

That’s a sharp panacea to put you out

This is a soft wrath pulling you in 

To rest between is the sweetest thing

Ok. And here’s the last “poem” I wrote while extremely high. I wish I could get into this mind state again but I think I have trained my brain too much. 

i met god and his famous parables. they’re nothing in my starry eyez. the overall fantasy is a cute girl with eyeshadow and dancing and i just want ro have a good time.  i like when people have fun. 

real shit, me.

hope you liked reading my poems I used to take poetry very very seriously but I just write when something’s on my mind I guess that’s what poets do. I haven’t made a career out of it or anything yet. But it be like that. Let me know if you have a favorite or if you cringed so hard you thought your face was going to get stuck.