Horror Author
Whiskey and rum and words
My only true friends
People are overrated
Rum is underrated
Whiskey leads to words
Or sleep
I think maybe
My stress in life
Is because
I’m not a drunk
Where’s the whiskey
Where’s the rum
Where are the words
Even my true friends
Have left me alone
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
Pick at your fingernails
Pull the skin off your lips
Rejoice in solitude
Panic from loneliness
Obsess over small things
Freak out for no reason
Blame yourself for nothing
Assume they all hate you
Shut down when you should rise
Push away those who love
Too much is on your mind
Too much stimulation
You just want to be held
You don’t want to be touched
Anger and frustration
You feel broken and dead
Every day you’re drowning
Each day is a battle
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
People like to visit Tucson
In October, November
December, January, February
It’s beautiful and peaceful
And the weather is perfect
None of these people
Have the balls to stick around
During the summer
During the Monsoon
You know you’re hardcore
When you live here
Year-round in Tucson
With the lizards, spiders
And all the assholes like me
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
James Pack 