theres nothing to crit here. this is a journal entry, not a poem. though read please.

the desperate way I ask
'are we alright yet?'
there's a venue in brooklyn
my phone glued to my ear
bodies burst from the door
like newborn babies from the womb
and I can't even remember what it was like to love you.

this night is bleached
with the dull pain of the full moon
it is letting the world pass judgment on my tears
it is like the first fight
three years. three years of something ineffable
this is outside the lines, poetry bleeding reality

'are we alright yet?'
'go catch your train'
click like a deadbolt

rain pours like silver hair on a fleeing colt.

what is there to do but laugh
when the jesus you used to sleep with
is so long dead
and you finally let yourself bury him.
Man, I hate when this kind of thing happens, not just to me but to anybody. Breakups suck. I wish I had something really clever to say that would help you feel better. It's the thought that counts, right?

You'll be okay. Just take some time to heal.

Today I feel electric grey
I hope tomorrow, neon black

It's things like this that makes me wish all of us regulars lived near each other so we could be personal comfort and more than just written comfort. I hope things work out with you, bud.

Beautiful read, by the way, albeit a sad beauty.
That was sad. Eh, don't know what else to say, but i know it doesn't feel good. Good luck with things.
recorded it (I decided it should be a song) with a bad electric piano. started crying towards the end. will have it up in an hour on my profile. I'm going to go watch some comforting tv over the internet now.