Crash landing

Crash land

on her coffee table.

The scrapbook items peel away

towards uncertain shame.

She holds your hand

with a certain splendor.

You stand surrounded

by the thick mist of the ghosts of

male structures painted pink.

You both want to kill her

and know her with your hands, eyes, nose

and every great organ of an animal.

But in the end I must kill her.

I excuse myself and run

around the park with a headache,

with a heartache.

Under a quiet tree I sleep

and I do not kill

or fuck anyone today.

Introduction

Hello fellow bloggers out there!

My real name is Jorge (there's no secret about that) but I'd prefer to go under the username "nothing7921". This username has a host of psychological, philosophical, and poetic roots far too deep within me that it describes the hidden beauty of a slow escape. It just makes sense to me after a very long time of thinking. And I do think alot. I am realizing now in my late twenties that I am a pure full hearted introvert. I have written poetry for about 18years and that's what most of this blog will be about.

But... I will also chronicle my experiences upon this fearful earth. I will try to talk plainly but when I get going I go poetic all down the road. I look forward to sharing cool but mostly boring things in my life with you all and providing the best poetry I can write. I have always written poetry, it's the best form of expression I have, something I can manipulate with ease. As I continue to post we will discover together (hopefully) the meaning of emptyness.