Red In My Veins

There’s this light on the ceiling of my room.
It does a pretty good job of lighting my room,
even that tall, awkward spot in my closet.
I like that light.
But it’s right above my work table,
So I cast shadows on my work sometimes.
When I use my x-acto knife to cut things,
I might not tell my arm apart from the table
Or finger or toe
And then I feel a prick.
It looks like a black dot.
Then I move and the light shows a pretty red dot.
I think it looks nice.

One day I was told my insides were black
But I could make myself pretty.
So I went to work one day,
I cut a lot of paper.
The first few cuts are usually crooked and weird
But it gets easier and cleaner
And you can see cute patterns.
My paper isn’t covered in dots this time,
It looks more like streams or waterfalls.
It makes me feel alive.
And pretty.
Red is prettier than black.
I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.
But now everything is turning black.

She Can Always Be Replaced

I don’t want to let go.

You mean everything to me and if you leave I’ll have no reason to stay behind. I lost you in a fog that concealed my love and left me wandering into nothing. I left you in a place that should never have been created and means death to me. There is nothing I can say to bring you back and no map to guide myself and no reason to find you. There is nothing that can make me the person we both wished I could be. There are pages written and thrown away all because of you and your eyes that withhold every truth and every word that I ever said. There is only so much I can do and now there is nothing to do but only hope for your forgiveness. I would die just to hear the sound of your voice over the look of betrayal and perhaps even a slight sign of kindness. If I can not set your soul on fire then I think it’s done and I will go on and weep for the idea that I killed and the moment that I could never partake in.

But here I am again with the inability to tell you who I am or what I want. Instead all I know is that you can not and never will be replaced and I am sorry for every pain I caused you that you never deserved.

With all my love,

Sleepless Nights

Due to my fucked up sleep schedule I woke up at 5PM today and can’t fall asleep now.

In the past two hours of laying in bed I’ve had a realization. Back in May I wrote about how the night before my first marathon I was essentially having a huge panic attack because of my doubts about finishing the race and couldn’t fall asleep. But now I just realized that I was panicking and worrying because I had unconsciously committed myself to not fail. I had decided somewhere along the way that I could not fail and not finish the race, that I could not say it was too much for me, that I could not turn my back on it. My own pride led to my breakdown the night before, but it also led to my success the following morning.

Compliments on a Sweater

I wrote you a letter.

In it I told you everything I hated and everything I loved. I told you about the world in black and in blue and in green and under the cover of my bedsheets. I wrote about how I believe in you and cherish every breath you take. I reminded you about that sweater I wore on our first date and how you cried into my shoulder and clutched the soft fabric and remarked how beautiful it was. I reminded you about that time I almost quit on you and that time you almost quit on me. I wrote so much my pen ran dry twice over and the paper bled the smudged ink. I wrote more than my heart could think and more than my brain could feel and more than I thought was fair for you to know. I told you of the song about you that I never got around to writing and that one poem that almost ended us and that other poem that held us together. I reminded you of when I first said I loved you but actually meant I loved to sleep because I was only half awake. I wrote to you about how I would give this all up for your kiss. I told you I wouldn’t wait for you because I knew you would come home. I reminded you of how beautiful your eyes are. I wrote you a letter to tell you how you set my soul on fire.

I went and burned that letter. I brought this letter instead and am wearing that sweater you cried into once.

With all my love,

I Can(‘t) Do This Anymore

"I didn't choose the Hunt life, the Hunt life chose me"

“I didn’t choose the Hunt life, the Hunt life chose me”

I’ve set a new record this week for both how hard I’ve studied for a single exam and for how many hours I clocked in at the library. Exam preparation added up to around 35 hours over 4 days and Club Hunt studying sessions added up to 50 hours over 5 days. Normally, I would never have done this, I’m usually the first to call it quits when studying and go sleep or go for a run or do anything else. This time was different, I didn’t want to get frustrated with the work I was doing, I didn’t want to get grouchy because of the work, and I just smiled (almost) the whole way through. It may have been because I had a week beforehand to do nothing and just hang around in London and it let my brain relieve all its tensions.

And to be fair, it kind of sucked having to go to the library everyday, but it was also a great time because of the people I was struggling together with. We basically held down 3 tables in the library 24/7 to be able to study together and bond in our semi-misery.

I could write something about how outlook is everything and it having a good outlook makes life better, but we all know that’s difficult to do and not entirely true, because if you get shot in the chest, I don’t think a good outlook is necessarily going to stop the hemorrhaging. Great, so what are you going to write about after these three shitty intro paragraphs? 

Fantastic question. Personal revelations and changes, as always.

It’s a rare thing when an un-materialized, vague thought in your head is put into words by another person. When it does happen, it stays on your mind. Someone close to me told me a while ago, “You need to stop running from your problems.”

And that thought hasn’t left my head because of the stark truth behind it. When things don’t go right for me or I can see the potential for failing, I ignore the problem and let it fall by the wayside. It may not even be the potential for failing that scares me so much as the opportunity of success. Still though, instead of working through the difficulties and facing the challenges I turn tail, and that has resulted in me failing to learn so many lessons I should’ve learned long ago. Now I’m working to throw myself into the challenges and not quitting like I have so oft in the past, just like this past week. I wasn’t going to content myself with letting the potential for getting an A instead of a C in a class slide by me, and it was grueling but I gave it my best effort, something I haven’t been able to say in a long, long time. Applying that to the rest of my life is going to be hard, but it’ll be good in the long run even if I don’t enjoy it.

As I’ve written about before, a lot of my poetry is inspired by music in addition to other works and reflections I have. There’s this one quote from a song I’ve grown fond of.

You go wherever you go today

It’s to the point and simple. It’s the concept that every action defines us and is who we are.

Here’s two songs that inspired the poem below.

The second line has the word “incongruous” which I kind of like and kind of don’t, so I’ll figure it out in a later revision.

Screen Shot 2013-12-07 at 10.32.29 AM


I’ve also been experiencing this strange phenomenon of waking up at 3AM every night for no reason and just being awake for 30 minutes before sleeping again. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, especially because I don’t feel tired the next day. I actually like it because it’s just 30 minutes where I have nothing to do but think while I’m all alone with no distractions. Maybe it’s just my brain needing it’s time to relax from the long study days.

This post has veered in a completely different direction, hasn’t it?

The other day I walked to our usual table in the library (surprise) and saw my friend was there. She looked at me and said “You always look so put together.” It so happened that on that day I was dressed up in suit pants/black/shoes/blazer/tie because it was the 15th anniversary of my fraternity’s charter on campus. But I thought to myself, and told her, I’m not put together, I never am. My life is constantly revolving clusterfuck of everything and anything. Now that I think about, it’s like a galaxy, beautiful from far away but a hot mess inside with mostly empty space. Speaking of hot messes, I know a lot of people who push for people to be always “authentic” with each other and share their struggles and issues and problems. I don’t think that’s the best thing. We can’t be always authentic and honest, we need to take care and deliberation and craft our persona in certain ways and open up when it’s necessary or appropriate. We need to be our own pretty galaxies (#extendedmetaphors) and come across as put together. It can’t just be a veil, it needs to be a solid castle that both you and I can affix ourselves to when we think of me. If I open the doors into the castle, than great, you can now  experience my life in ways that will make you question how I’m still functional, alive, and not a total asshole.

While I’ve known that life is all about people, the significance of that prioritization hasn’t had much of an impact on me until recently. I can do anything so long as the people I’m with are great, which is how I got through this past week. Along with my friend Allen rubbing off on me, I’ve realized that it’s the normal people who I have to watch out for. They’re the ones that are boring and have nothing to offer, they’re the ones caught up in the social scene, they’re the ones that mean nothing to me.

And that’s me being overly critical again. Allen tells me I should be a critic. I think between Allen’s judgmental nature and strong opinions and my overly critical nature and lack of tact we’d be the least pleasant people to hang out with. But somehow we have friends.

And in the end friends are all that matter and I need to put more effort into them.

I wish everybody knew what’s so great about you.

Good morning and good night.

Poems I Never Thought I’d Write, Part 2

I first saw a cunt
When I was drunk
Hand in her pants
Before her flatmate left
My tongue was wet
My penis erect
The dry humps rough
Her crotch was warm
My body craving
My fingers plunging
Mouth on her breasts
Tracing down her curves
Over recently shaved skin
Tongue tasting jewels
Then a quick squirt
A confused shuffle
Warm breath on my dick
A suckle and slurp
Her teeth on the tip
That’s when I quit
Next day I woke
And thought ugly bitch

Your Words Were Not So Clear

I burned your memory away today
The flames felt clean against the dirt
White flecks disappearing
Carried in the cold wind
Dropping into the running creek
The fire didn’t warm my dirty hands
It wasn’t bright against the grey sky
Smoke tumbled from the envelope’s corners
It burned slowly
There was not a great flame
I clicked the lighter some more
But it wouldn’t catch fire faster
My hands were numb
I wish I wore gloves to stay warm
And keep the dirt off
The wind flipped the envelope off its perch
Into the creek
The fire stopped and the envelope sunk
Stuck on the bottom rocks
I couldn’t let it linger
It was cold when I held it
The ink hadn’t run together
But it felt like seeing double
I took it away
So no one would ever see

This poem is going to need a lot of reworks. I may drop everything save for the first line.