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your fuel

Posted on 2006.09.15 at 02:26
and you had some fight left in your bones
when from your lips
fell words
right to our hips

ps:

Posted on 2006.09.15 at 02:25
these are not poems

urgencyyy uno

Posted on 2006.08.30 at 03:12
you felt it when you saw my body there fighting for air
we're all fighting for something
give me something to believe in
give me something to let go of

let's drive west until all good air dissolves from our lungs
screw the things he said when he lost himself in those silly dreams we all once held on to
you never listened then
why start now

we'll devour this earth with our bare feet
and chide ourselves for not doing it sooner
this is how it feels to lose latitude
this is how it'll be when we lose all hope

anxiety will eat us alive if we let it
consider the things we could have become
hell, the rain's even got misery on it's side
we'll bring the battle alright

i'm into drug stores and sidewalks and the way you press your lips together
i'm into the war
i haven't read the newspaper in quite some days
but let's call it a truce and let's call it a night

i'd give up my heartbeat
let's be honest it was never there at all
punctuation runs amiss
we were always meant to be more than this

here's this

Posted on 2006.06.19 at 03:26
it's a sunday night.
once every three years from here on out we will be on the same coast.
i bought into the idea of spending the summer living off your careful smile with five of your wayward words:
"i'm not one of those."
i took a year of my life and devoted it to being dissapointed.
i carefully plotted courses that failed in sequential order right before my uninspired eyes.

i saw you standing in a field in a sheath of black linen and we just stood there and let our eyes meet. for once it wasn't about what you may have said midday on a busted bench in a parking lot several towns over and how much of it you really didn't mean. you were all for giving up and giving away the only gifts you had. you explained that this is more perfect than a circle, in that it is so endless and infinite that all the points connect so gracefully. i choked out what little i had left to say but i didn't mean it either. i really don't think the world spins on abstract notions. we're all as surreal as you'll let us be. i never felt so hopeless, but we were sitting on the cinderblock and you were plotting my path out. so it was a mediocre day and we just stood there letting all this pass between us, brushing a blanket of hair from our eyes, briefly pondering nights at the diner and a shared love for the same maudlin music and how we're both as shy and unassuming and awkward as can be, how we both don't believe we are worth the love we could give, how we both end up being really quite vain if this how we're ending our run. i'll take what i can get, and you'll believe what you see. maybe you will think we'll be on seperate ends of this earth, but in a day's drive we can bridge whatever we have left. i have some semblance of sanity left in my body after buying into what this town had to offer me, but it is growing thin waiting for you to decide what your life is worth to you. i can't take much more than i can get, i'll have you know.

here's this,
because i don't know who's out there.
i really don't know who needs these words more than i do.
i haven't heard an honest apology in ages,
and haven't believed in a single soul since i misplaced my own.

petty crimes

Posted on 2006.06.10 at 04:22
i wear these shoes
i wear them on my feet
it's the only place i know to put them
tell me elsewhere
and it'll do
it'll always do
it's always been
me and you
just you
just me
i like my ifs
you like your ofs
xoCollapse )


four more

Posted on 2006.06.10 at 04:20
if we could be honest
(we never would be)
you won't want to see me now

wasted words

Posted on 2006.06.07 at 00:45
that chord ripped right through your skin, i saw it
you never lied to me, i convinced myself you did
i tore through you until there was nothing left
you taught me everything i know of conviction

mayday

Posted on 2006.05.29 at 03:07
time carved valleys into the skin along her jawline, etched out by resounding laughter. this is what a handful of dozens feels like, she'd proclaim, whisking his balmy hands towards her chin. tears flooded this face, she'd solemnly vow, without which i could never have grown.
i earned every inch of myself left.
it defines you at 79. so she spins:

in a heart there is a chamber. it houses your failures. they never stray too far. we can forgive and we can forget, but really we just choose to ignore. they will ever so carefully eat away at their walls into they leak into your blood. you can wage this war. you can let this go and let it get you, or you can fight the greatest war your body will undertake. always keep your head above the water. succumb to one moment of weakness and it is over. regrets will destroy you if you ever let them. it is you against your own goddamn heart. don't treat this sorrowful little chamber like a friend to keep at bay; never accept it's existence and don't ever choose to work with it. it is an unrelenting enemy that will do horrible acts to the rest of your body. you will suffer so badly, that you will forget who you were and who you loved. arm yourself well with these manuevers: be willing to lose a battle to win the war; face opposition fearlessly even if you're bones are shaking; never surrender. the more you let others into your heart, the more they knock on this chamber. they are just being neighborly; but this room is begging for their company. it will not stop vapidly sucking in your loved ones until it's beaten you miserable. now, honey. you can deny the existence of evil within your own heart, because you love jesus or you are pure of spirit or you are no sinner, but evil lurks. believe in your own strength, because it will be all you have. it is only one chamber, and it knows not the strength of the other vessels. show it. brash attacks will only destroy the overall infrastructure; you must go forth with precision. trust in yourself. your instincts will never lie to you. believe in the sanctity of your own choices. they will make or break you. now you know. now you see. now we can finally free ourselves.


a fragile life just like any other, her own body is failing her. it is only ever a matter of time. truth is the defense. don't fight it.

severed

Posted on 2006.05.19 at 01:35
it's always wires that we're dancing on
wires that cut into our feet
and teach us to endure
even if it's you and me and a wire
cutting through in clay
beauty will prevail as we burn it all down

you needn't know

Posted on 2006.05.02 at 23:45
morning time spinning "mandrake root" if everynight's another story this is the epilogue where they go oh they lived happily on in their days and their nights and they never quibbled over who wanted the blanket more or what'd they do when she put thousands miles between them because she would sit and say she miles can't save her from herself and so forth and he would say just listen to me hum this one and tell me when to stop but there's no happily on after and there is no airport scene coming where he screams for her not to board and just to stay in bed and he'll take her to the altar a few years on and she'll never know what's out there because that is not a happy ending for any of us if you're asking me but you're not asking me i'm just saying i feel for these kids who watch eachother's eyelids close everynight they can though there's distance now you should see them in these next few months sneaking phone calls and driving an hour just to bridge their hearts together for a summer night or so and he's saying would you ever give your heart to another boy to which she'd reply maybe and it'd be coy as hell but there's always a fear that he might do the same because she just can't sit still when he's in her veins if for one moment it can be just these two broke lonely kids then that's what it'll be and there won't be any cry for explanations because enough is always enough your hand feels right in mine she'll say but he'll just shrug it was always about the way he turned the music up and the thoughts down because maybe that's what she needed just something untainted and unbridled and not so unloved anymore when someone's willing to kill the hours with you and say darling oh darling i will write the ending for you i will write the autumn down and we'll never be so far away let's just take what time we have honey and pocket it away because i've waited so long for this and i'm not giving it up can we do that tell me can we do that and this story won't end just because she wants it to just this once just this once she'll know this boy isn't worth hurting because all that is out of her system now but hey babe he'll say are you sleeping in or should we go back to town and she won't have to respond maybe every morning is another final scene because it's not who you fall asleep with it's who's eyes are the first you see every morning well can you feel that i can feel that goodnight honey goodnight


prior

Posted on 2006.04.30 at 22:35
kennedy waits on your words, the ones stuck on the back of your tongue, the ones you can't quite cough up.
it is august of wicker and whitewash, and we collect hours just to get this night going.
brennet is rustling in the indoors, blankets askew and thoughts provoked to a terrible point.
the flu will take him, you always proclaim, relishing this fact as though disease is a divinity.
well we have some catching up to do.

make it

Posted on 2006.04.24 at 03:17
hush hush
these are the only words i have left
i left your bed at qaurter past because i needed a moment
or a few
to collect what i had left in my head
five hours emptying these thoughts into your ears
and i had nothing left

still you are
under ruffled bed sheets
a jaw drawn of apologies and apathy
so frantic are we to define
boundaries i set
thinking i could go back

back to nothing
when i could make sense of eyes and lips and hands
and didn't think of my own face
as anything
so forget this body that houses this self
torn from fragments of all those who surround me
because they know me better
than i know my way in and out of this mess

can't say
where i'd have gone if i felt i had a choice
if i didn't feel compelled
to make things right for you
so you could tuck yourself in and sleep soundly
for just another night
when we'd be lonely
if it wasn't for our thoughts of all our silly
and worthless mistakes
if i can't feel this now
i can't feel at all

get out
of this denim
and pretend these insecurities die
just because the lights are killed
when they don't
i want to be everything i can for you
even if i hadn't thought you'd be enough
to stir up these feelings
the ones i don't feel like facing

your eyes
on mine
which could feel so dishonest
if i wasn't so intent on distancing myself from this
just wanting to keep it low
so it can't go awry
because the leaves are on the trees soon
and we all know what happened when they fell
i'll never love
and i'll always be okay

away
or coming to
as you mumble goodnight
key in the ignition
every moment is a new regret in the making
but i believe in the sanctity
of letting go
of giving up
of going home
so we'll never know
had i stayed
had i said
what's really been in my head

liars make lousy lovers

Posted on 2006.04.17 at 01:44
it's alright to be you
if you can tuck your tired legs in at night

it's alright to be you
so long as you're still there in the morning

it's alright, it's alright
i believe in your words as they spill on over

cut into me with your regrets, i'm all ears
you're all heart
just take a stab at this honesty, honestly
i have the time
you have the words
we have that feeling that rips your chest open
and causes a shake that runs down your skin
quiver out a solid oath
to negate my pitiful reply

it's alright to be you
when we're not lying, on this bed anymore

canary and copper

Posted on 2006.04.14 at 01:57
dear henry,
thank you for simplicity.
i tortured myself long after the nights and days had ended. i sat in limbo choosing words i'd never use. "oh comely" tore me right apart. i knew something had to give, even when i had nothing to give at all.
in the morning, i'd never want to find god. i'd rather not answer life's unfathomables. i just wanted all those brash little tokens of modern living we all so strive for...security. comfort. prestige.
i saw it in that girl's eyes. she sat pouting on that bench with a mundane glance. i cannot imagine my own eyes shining so dull, with all that life has given her. but i saw it then and i see it now: that sad desperation no amount of dollars can help you escape. but i had loved lawrenceville for so long, the illusion meant more than any face could break.
i felt it last night more than i did: the reaffirmation of everything i've ever lived for. the heart in these kids, it astounds me. the kinetic energy, the simple grace, the utter and undefined mediocrity of their lives in the splendor i have waited nearly nineteen years for. i saw then what i see in you, in your words, in your spirit that will live on even further yet.
danny, danny, he's a forest ranger in alaska now. the beauty of it, this life that he laid out for me. i can only hope for such now, just following three steps behind. they sip their cosmos and talk ill of his life's choices but i believe in them to the bone. you cannot break a heart that gold. i will cross the continent just to comprehend the brilliance in his livelihood, i'll have you know. so thank you for instilling that sense in me.
these mountains and the air around them, god i'm giving my life to get there. all the kids clamor for the city lights and those nighttimes spent but i'd really rather not. there's so much world to die like that. the city i see is an atlantis in the most fantastic island i've ever spent some breaths in. so many dead hearts, but some just living enough to keep the whole world on. the glory of the city is a lure i'll give in to, but not forever.
i can't go too long without the stars. i park and just being there with someone i could fall in love with if i wanted to makes negates the days. these days aren't going so rough anyway. i swallow all the pills and count all the steps and i get through it, just knowing the end always justify the means.
i cut words and thoughts out. resentful words always fall from my lips; i was bitter but i found that clarity that i so needed. i found it in those spirits that keep me alive.
cast it out, because tonight i know that essay i penned was so far from a lie. sure i harp on all these things i could have or really should have done differently; but then i'd never know these moments. that is not a risk i'd ever take.
thank you for the clarity. for the tranquility of all those years ago that lives on now; if i could produce anything a third of even remotely close to that wisdom, i'd give away all the horrid.
love.

eight by ten

Posted on 2006.04.09 at 20:35
don't lose your stars! the sights and sounds of the stuffy new england prep schools and the way lawrenceville spreads out at your feet: don't forget it. the reckless bar mitzvahs in the country clubs where we laid our heads to rest when all was said and done, and the horse that she rides off into the field mumbling,
i don't believe in them rodeos,
the smell of the golf greens, the way that yacht cuts through the water with grace, the luxury vehicles just for status and little else, the chiffon and the dried roses. light them candles up and smoke them cigars until all this comes on home.
tuxedo park and the bland pouty look of the lineups, let's hold it together for the ivy leagues.
the casual polos and the bricks and the money oh the money
the frivolous money
the life i could have had, smoking opium in the pristine hills with the sly smile and the boys
i never believed in.
so typical, this dream. so ordinary and expected. but we hold on to it because of the money. the republicans and...this isn't luxury that you're having, this is settling. settling for six bedrooms and a quirky housekeeper and oh my these riverfront views are sweeping, but i'd give it all up for the chance to start again,
to give them kids the life we've been yearning for. the dreams the forefathers wrote the constitution for, do you think that's what this is? i don't believe it. i can't hear the symphony over the groveling of all it's taken you to get here. we should stay within our classes, and not lose our footing. this is not give and take; this is stand still.
oh the sunglasses, how they fit on your head like a crown.
you're a clean soul in a filthy town, praying for the ups. it gets higher, sure, but it never does get better.
the money's lying and you're believing.


naggueset

Posted on 2006.04.05 at 22:34
in some something something
town or something in nassau county
days like losing seasons
working weekends
perpetual motion
all for nothing but the kid had spirit
had all the heart a body could hold
and gave it all away come january
come with me
pretend we don't have to be
the hotshots on the talk shows
wielding witty remarks
saying sundance never saw finer
document the past
to make sense of the future
well where's the sense in that?
let the porch door swing closed
because i know
dirty untied sneakers
a cup of bitter lemonade
eyes closed, fingers laced
we didn't have to be the heroes
who saved a world of redundancy
or could say "this is the world
now we're saving it"
you hate that president
but you hate that last film we saw
in your split-level
think about how ordinary we are
politics or some shit
of keeping it together for the fame
for the glory you never quite wanted
it's your chance, henry
believe the blood is real
because you felt it under your skin
you never had it until it's gone
i'll see you on the small screen
talking of the silver with wist
i knew we'd be here
some of the same years passing on by

sundays in minor

Posted on 2006.03.22 at 04:42
we're going to have ourselves with sunday afternoon
i light the vanilla candles
you show up all prim and proper
we dance to old dean martin records because we feel italian
not true not true
with a last name like that you must be kidding
strike up the accordian honey
i'll hit the keys, you do what you do
all kitten heels and flannel shirts
you think i was buying it for a second?
i drink it in at the dinner table
we pray and we dance and we crash through life
bring the bottle
we'll forget our anglo selves
angel i never stopped believing
tip me over
pour me out
let's give ourselves that night
feeling fine like the summertime
now that feels right
sing in falsetto
i'll believe every word you utter
one night only:
believe in fairweather
when it's all you have

"because we all need a little more room to live"

Posted on 2006.03.21 at 00:12
lovely like the days wasted like the nights all the inbetweens and the because of this and that i don't care i won't care i should but i can't when all the words spill on the page thinking this has got to mean something but it sure never does my friend you say you're true but these wrongs never felt so low when you say you'll go home and you stand on my doorstep dejected like the days we waste in our beds dreaming of something we can never have let the pillows suffocate this head in because i can't bear to let it run anymore danger like the days reckless like the nights we had it all or we never had anything at all well you tell me where we've gotten and where we're going because i see nothing past the next few days well konstantine konstantine tell me something i haven't heard because i swore i'd heard it all until you swore it all wrote back to me i'm hurting for something solid something that stays something that won't break me up and tear me down well let's have let's take the world apart and put it all back in the places we want to be and places that we shouldn't go i had you i had you at goodbye and that's how i'd like to keep it i wish i could put these words in your eyes fearful like the days empty like the nights i'll believe in you until the end until the last bullet fires until the last hope gives up on me but we don't know a damn thing about hope just because we hear it and see it can't mean that we feel it because then i'd feel faith then i'd know what's honest then i'd know it's right but i don't know a thing at all about these days and nights

matrices

Posted on 2006.03.15 at 01:55
sit it out
work it off
let it go

we got into one of those really horrific fights
where all the wrong words come tumbling out of your lips
things you say you do not really mean after the fact but you really do
you're just not brave enough to let them out
until they fall from your lips.
and it's too late.
lord i know it has to get better than this.
i know i can't be facing these mornings for nothing at all.
there has to, has to be redemption out there.
sense must be made,
and not in this fickle sense.
i left at half past eleven and travel the same dull roads in the same dull way
with the same simple set of songs on the stereo.
but he doesn't understand what it means when a life just ends,
or when a life is ended,
and a heart stops,
and a breath chokes,
and the words we've all been waiting to hear will never be heard.
by the time that he arrives,
it's too late--
march fourteenth.
make or break us.
on the stage that night is a doe-eyed boy who could never hold his liquor,
then slowly drawling,
"when a friendship dies, you also die."
we are living a dead life
in the wake of those who lived before us.
four years and
we forget the name, the face.
because fear makes us real.
it crawls into bed at night and holds us.
he thinks out loud,
as i pen these words down,
"why do you go and be so fucking morbid?"
write what you know-
because it's what you don't that's killing you.
a life with a purpose
is ever so fictive.
carry it home with you wherever you go:
the moment you decided we died.
i shuffle through, on and on and on,
and i don't feel a thing.
there's more faces, more names, more backstories on backroads,
but it just doesn't mean a thing.
let's bury the roses in our backyards and forget our lame histories repeating over and over,
because this
really
means nothing now.
i could take back a few things i didn't quite mean,
yet not enough to absolve this.
i drove off and around thinking "let me just kill this last hour"
so maybe it would be less real.
if i die, you die,
but we're already dead.
"are you really throwing yourself into the wrong coffin? "
maybe i'm already underground
because i don't feel a damn thing.

groverland

Posted on 2006.03.07 at 18:14
"he's got a half a dollar heart and a nickel's worth of sense...he don't know what it is you're telling him."
"i know," -pointedly- "but at least he's hearing it."
"you're wasting your nights," -accusingly- "you should be studying or something up in new york. aren't you thinking of going to school?"
"considering it."
"this isn't a 'consider' kind of question, doll," -cynically- "you know what he would give up to be right there with you? you naw what he did?"
"you mean his life?" -staggering- "are you really going to put that on me?"
"darling, this isn't about blame," -retracting- "it's just about how good you done without all this. why you coming back? why you letting it get to you? you're not well enough to take this on."
"good enough" -correcting- "i was never good enough for someone to care about."
"i did not say that," -woefully- "no matter what, i'm not pinning this on anyone."
"you think it's his father's fault."
"wrong," -unconvincingly- "but your words, they're dead air. just go home, get some rest."
"sleep it off," -lowly- "in my mind, maybe it can be forgotten."
"not forgotten, honey," -reassuring- "just less."
"less is not enough," -considering- "i did this."
"no...but you'll do it to yourself if you don't get yourself out of this right now."
"well, i hear you," -submitting- "but i just don't want to hear another word of it until this is all over."


Posted on 2006.03.01 at 02:19
some nights i can't sleep at all.
think of the greats. all the wondrous beams of human existence transitioning to weary has-beens and saying "we should have offed ourselves at the height"
let's leave before this party grows dull.

land legs

Posted on 2006.02.22 at 07:19
i wake in dallas. all the stars out but hers. she wore this veiled smile that screamed, i'm so absurdly unhappy and there's not a soul in the west worth saving. i go north, where all the states flatten out and living doesn't come so easy. and they greet me on their porches, all brassy and baked and obliterated by modern living. they say they have no compass but a hell of a roast beef. i travel on into the night. all the roads blur into one thicket of lines across the states. i choose them all. i end up in the dark of night at a seedy gas station on the interstate. i have three dollars to my name and half as much dignity. i buy a lotto ticket and a win a twenty. the decrepit old man fishes my winnings from the register and throws in a free cola. it feels stale as it hits my throat. i want to go on up to the ice caps and see how they're living but i just won't make it. it's best not to try. the sky breaks, with little cracks of light jutting out from the horizon. i travel toward them at a remarkable speed. i reach a fork in the road and i turn around. i end up in the parking lot of a fast food joint thinking about what i should have done and what i never will. the sky brightens as my thoughts die out. each thought turns to memory as i rest my weary eyes, and the rich blackness turns into a kaleidoscope. i let that moment pass. i know i must be efficient but i think i'm going nowhere now. i see a tree that grows into the ground and my bones begin to ache. i want to find the grave marker, but i don't know where it could be located. i think of giving up when i see a road sign. it points me home. i listen not to the words or the mile markers but to the color of the traffic cones. i think i know where i'm going now. you say to carefully plot our course; i say hit the ground running. i hear the birds chirp their uncanny song and wonder how they may have made it up. you wonder what is or was yours to begin with. well this land sure the hell isn't, but let's beat it up. i follow the road past my hometown and think of bright chicago lights. we think we're traveling on but we wouldn't know, now would we?

coat rack

Posted on 2006.02.22 at 07:14
let's not play this game of "see just how hard we can make it"
because we can make it through if we try
and i mean it when i say it.

i saw your brother at at 7-11 and he said "why's he coming home if he said he only has finished business left in town?" to which i reply with nothing, because i wonder the same. you say you're wandering on-i say you're migrating back. we all miss what we have when we give it away, and we curse each day and night we just let it slide. you say you know the southern state like them your new home now
i say that's cowardly and you hide behind your mason-dixon
like catching the ferry could erase what was never done at all.

the sun rises and the eyelids never set.
you may say i'm wordy, well i'm thinking maybe i just have too much to let on out.
sweet lad with the summertime on your mind. sinning in a dirty bungalow and praying that he'll make it all right, alright? i believe in the sanctity of letting go. nothing more, nothing less.

threatening

Posted on 2006.02.18 at 01:18
i send you a dozen forget me nots
in the hopes
you've forgot me not

and i say
no i scream
what have you been forgetting for

i tuck you in
to my dreams in safe accord
but it wasn't yours

it could never be yours
to have
to hold

you set sail
drunken on the high seas
all flutter and fatal

it was brash
and none of it matters now
so sweat it off

it was a night
and we forget it every day
just to come back

i surrender
the endless debauchary
we all knew who you were fighting for

cut a little deeper
make it worth something
stay in tonight

breathe in
don't forget the nights
they make it worth it

this doesn't mean a thing
ever
or more than it did yesterday

hold on
let me put this on hold
i'll shelf these lost causes

i felt it
thick and morose
but what could i say




so i walked away

hey ho let's go

Posted on 2006.02.17 at 00:38
i'm addicted to the pain
just to feel as though i'm making it real
now that's the truth
which comes so few and far between
at times like these i think-
i think i'd like your face rearranged
so toughen up the kids
have them place their ranks
we all know the sheltered kids are wheeling in
with their pockets of insecurities drawn
and life isn't a crime
and the victory is less than this
an anticlimatic moment of disgrace
so wrap your head around these metaphors
because you don't know pain
neither
well what do you think of that


pandora

Posted on 2006.02.15 at 01:30
write your own ticket-don't wait for it to fall into your hands. this is "advice for yourself at age eighteen" from below rock bottom. a man once pondered dropping a rose into the hudson river and you don't care to find your way home. because i said you can will become i did. a sign reads "be sincere even if you don't mean it. -harry truman." you own a little slice of truth that you keep tucked away for days like these. jesus pray for me. be kind enough to lend your ears away from all those devout capitalists for just a seed of the one hope i'll hang myself with. it wasn't an external issue that had you so weak. k-turns in airports and job fairs and shady mercedes clobbered under fences. there's a coldenham in anyone. just know what makes you strong...
and don't give it up.

one of those things

Posted on 2006.02.13 at 23:01
thrice a day
at very very least
i pass your road
as i travel down
toward my school.
and i know that you
are all the way down
at your very own.
because i'm home,
and you travel far
to eqaul the distance
i set in motion.
your road reminds me
of all those nights
in dead-hot summer
and there i am:
the august we had.
i'd like it back.
so i'm going for it,
and it's too damn late
but i can't let it go.
six months strong:
getting weaker everday.
but growing in shape
until it's a monster
staring us down.
it was nine at night
and it had just begun.
your road, my car,
all the in-betweens.
that terrible culdesac,
your erstwhile brother,
money we never had.
in autumn we had enough
and the end was the end.
so i fell back into place
with the kids i knew
and you to yours
never knowing it,
always fighting it.
i pass your road tonight
just like any other.
i see your driveway
minus your car
knowing you're around
but not here tonight or now.
you're saving the world,
not mine but our own.
you can buy a villa now
compensation is rich
but you can't buy the time back
just a fourdoor and two car garage.
i think you're coming back around.
remember on your porch swing
when you told me it would heal itself?
i never believed you.
so i just watched you die a little.
i didn't say that then.
i shouldn't say that now.
you've got all the money you need,
but you don't have your home.
i would bring your papa back to life,
but i can't do that.
i would save your sister's marriage,
but that's not up to me.
i would heal your inner wounds,
but the doctors keep me at bay.
i'll travel down your road
and you won't make a sound.
you can lie to rest all you like.
we won't say a word
until it all passes out
on the cutting board.
as they run you over
in fear you might get this all out.

forward motion

Posted on 2006.02.12 at 03:22
"because one day i woke up. everyone was there, like when you walk your way into a party that's held for you...a surprise. it gets you every time. and you don't care about the balloons or the cakes or the presents, that they wrap. you care for the faces. and you zero in on the smiles. because it says 'we're here for you.' you never would have believed anyone would be. and you've been running from the very mouths that are saying such wonderful things. celebrating you. i remember that. i remember that even if you don't.
it's like you've lived your whole life for this letdown. when you realize you were in it for all the wrong reasons, right? you just wasted a dozen and a half years...no, more than that. you just wasted everyone's years. i can't total that. i wouldn't want to. if there's anything to count on, god. it's not the strength in myself. wish i could say otherwise.
so. i woke up. everything was the same-the streets, the folks, all that. all the same. just the way we see it now, i saw it then. but you always know something is up. something is wrong. and you think it can't be you. it was me, wasn't it?
sorry. i'm sorry. i just...i can't seem to give this one thing up. i try. i try so hard and say enough is enough, right? no. it doesn't go like that. i see these guys at work and when they light up, i'm right there with them. i just need it, that moment. to clear things up, get shit together, break up everything else. that i can't seem to get ahold of, imagine. but they don't know more than they need to.
i got this totally beat car, too. oh, god, it's terrible. every day i just vow it to get home. i'm just like, make it this far baby. make it to the drive and we'll park you for the night and tomorrow i'll beg you to do it all over again. always. every day just picks up where the last one left off.
it gets worse, but i'll avoid that. she doesn't know.
i don't know. it's over. all of it, this, just thinking i made it this far. it was glorious. any of it-every of it. i know, i know. you wish it away and then it's gone. i go in tomorrow-that's a sunday. a sunday, if it's going to be any day. i think i'll make it out. i don't know, give me a year or two. i promise i'll come back, let you out of this.
i think, therefore...i'm done.
it's over. i just dug my own grave. i think i'll come out on the other side and they'll all be there. with their smiles. and they'll say 'you did it'...like i won the soccer game or something. it's like a race, who can get to sane. i can't. i can't now, at least. but i want to hope they'll be there. i'd want to hope...
i guess hoping is pointless...
but then i guess giving yourself away is pointless. i put in my shirt. i don't think that's it. i said, i'm out. i call the shots. not anymore. i guess-i guess it's pointless to leave this all for you, like this at least.
i don't know. i didn't want you interuppting me. everyone keeps saying shit. like they know what's going on in here better. yeah, then why didn't you see this sooner? we all could have done something. i don't know what, anything. to keep this from going down the way it did. now i'm being robbed of this. i'm going to a hideout so society doesn't have to think of me. doesn't have to look at me and think 'we fucked up.' right, right-they won't say 'we'. it's always 'he.' my fault. sorry. i didn't recognize the shapes until they had me by the throat. i cna't turn back around and blame them...
promise me you won't wait until tomorrow. get your head on straight...before you don't know which way that is. because i can't see...i can't see the end of this.
i know where it's going...it's too late for me. just save yourself. i-i'm going now. it'll be a year or so. i don't even know. i just know how i'm getting there. in this cab, actually. but besides that, even if i do get out, i'll never know this moment again. remember that: you will never know me for more than this. i'm sorry, actually. but, i did what i could to make it right for you. i can't change everything.
these are the words you wanted to hear. maybe not all of them, maybe i mean needed to hear. i hope you needed this. because i did.
fuck. i've wasted so much time...goodnight. goodbye. good all of that. just keep it together for all of us, okay? say and do only what you mean. make it right. don't look back, i mean, it's behind you. just stay together. forward. just go forward. never back. it's over. none of it matters but what you make of yourself. do this for you. only you. say you can. say you will. you know, i don't care, just don't think too much into it. it will eat away at you.
put on your fresh face and pretend nothing is ever wrong. be petty. be ignorant. be bland.
just be alive."

all fashion, no passion

Posted on 2006.02.10 at 15:21
all you tend to be is a pile of hair and a faded denim jacket.
uhoh.
i sat in your car with vigor, skimming the steering wheel and thinking
goddamn the miles you put into this just to get from your circle to my sqaure.

i hadn't any idea what i was in for. so i'm fond of buttons? well, we always were one in the same.

we live it all for one moment to the next. we believe in redemption but we won't give it until we get it. we recreate the 80's in our bedrooms when the doors are locked. we stay warm under sun roofs and get colder as we skim by eachother, barely recognizable shapes and sounds anymore. we adopt odd new customs just to barely get by. we write the words wrong and we rewrite them slightly more correct just to save face. we say we're nothing, but it always comes back down. we spend and spend and spend and then there's so little left, we barely know ourselves. we agree to disagree and never meet in the middle. we care to disgregard putnam, to travel forward, to take the midhudson straight through, to make the third left after the fifth light. we've played this hand before. we hear it, we feel it, we move it.
it's out of our systems before it worked it's way through.

you're a lonely road in the dead of night past 84.
but you keep claiming freedom,
you don't know a thing-
if you hadn't heard it in a song or ten,
it'd never be yours at all.

another pointless benign entry to kill time

Posted on 2006.01.13 at 10:23
you never tied your shoelaces. you always tied your lips. it matters not.
if "anyday" is today, i'll give it all away. i'll give it up to know you're lying on a bare mattress for yet another western night, but you're not.
thinly veiled words portray weakness. it's the last night on this ungodly earth and what you say is, "i broke my back for those i love and they need me not." shut the hell up and recoil all of those words because they mean nothing in passing, they are stringed together just to redeem the unthinkable.
don't do this until you're certain.
you fall for the subtleties granted by none other than yourself.
i can't speak words i don't have. pocket eight and some change and travel on and don't ever look back or it will all fade into an arc of skyline you never cared much for anyway. you're the weak one here and no one knows it better than i do. you're the coward and you're just fading further.
it's always miles but it matters not.
it matters always.


underwater

Posted on 2005.12.30 at 03:28
you were one of those folks who stuffed subway tokens in their penny loafers.
i was one of those kids who didn't hold their breath underwater, just hoped the bathtub would take me away.
it's not over until you pull the drain up.

it doesn't hurt if it isn't frantic. if you don't give it your all. give yourself away because you're fighting for all the wrong reasons. it won't go away until the last drop helps us all surrender just a little bit.
i gave it my all, you gave it a disgusted statistic.

from my billfold to yours

Posted on 2005.12.23 at 05:27
i don't much recall how i said,
where i said,
when or mostly why i said it,
but i do know who i said it to.
and you have to think-you have to think until your mind's wry and cold-did i really? did i really just?
there is no easy answer.
it's fear of the unknown, and i know it.
so let's all buckle up and go back to that one defining moment, the one we never saw coming yet replayed a hundred times over ever since.
it was make or break and it broke the very back that held it.
we're all stronger than we care to realize.
this isn't weakness, no, it's the inexplicable change of seasons, as it all winds up back to nothing.
let's all go back to the freefall, that one careless notion that nothing was before or will be after. it will all blur into an indefinate shape, and we'll all be okay for another fleeting moment.
it's not your money to spend or your habit to break. let's stack these ideas up and serve them for the better good.
i did, i just did.
it's not the noose, it's the last breath.
we collect up our apologies and spew them out around the time they start meaning nothing. it's always ten seconds too late when you're dangling.
let's all go forward then and fuck the opportunities missed and decisions we regret. it's always being said, they don't define us.
but they do and you know they do.
it isn't time to kick the truth. it'll be there when you're gone.
i have ten dollars on the fact we won't make it out alive. it's got a hold on each and every one of us and it won't let you go,
not tonight or any night thereafter.
so wake up and freshen up and forget it all.
because we all can't go back to screw our demise.
let's hear it for the broken kids, the ones with freckles and crooked teeth and unhinged eyeglasses. they made it for us and they're burying us in tonight.
you never had this, don't fucking forget that.
it was never yours. the clock works in one direction: against you.
guess they can't operate after all.
let's all dig our own grave. we'll be okay then; we've got this.

carter?!

Posted on 2005.12.21 at 04:33
the trouble isn't in the law, it's just that the law let this one go. lay your cards out and ante up because the road home never seemed so absurd. you'll always have a brother to kick it with, so long as you're not so fleeting. stay grounded in your roots because they stay firm as you shiver. i misjudged the distance and overshot and now here we go again, i'll buy the round if you navigate back to your place for me. because you know backroads always have me baffled, and hell you still know my favorite book two years and counting. i know it's not as wayward as one might think. say you'll stay. say this time it'll count. don't say i don't owe you a cent because i've got a dollar in my back pocket that has your calculating eyes stabbing westward. you don't know? because it's true you do. i've laid it all out and it always comes down to that one time i forgot who it was i wrapped myself into. a cup of coffee later, i can still name every dylan album straight so long as we keep it coming. i sink into smoke and it's all a matter of passing time on interstate lines. you know where jersey lies. i'm a compass short of a good time. you know i always had gold intentions but something tells me otherwise. something says it's over before it ever really begun. something takes me back to the old school posse that i have on hand. it's the "freaks, nerds, & romantics" and a qaurter tank of gas.

the bobby somebody law

Posted on 2005.12.20 at 03:15
the more and more i try to define you as the night wears on-
just the same you're slipping away.
because i found you between bed sheets
all coy and tangled and frenetic as ever.
but i don't want this to define me,
pray tell when i'll ever give up the ghosts
or when it is they'll let me be, let me free, let me go and go on.
state lines and cigarette breaks
a chord of fevers breaking seven miles south-
inadeqaute and disgraceful and clever and you know it.
we'll end this with a bow in silence,
because you're always saying "watch below your feet"
and the more i give up the more i get away from
but an ivory white past is put to rest.

rainy day funds

Posted on 2005.12.12 at 02:13
and can i just say, that comes with loving someone. you just empty out your pockets and offer up a wry smile. and every night, it always comes back to them. because they're the reason you go on living like you do. and they're the hope that keeps it all together at the seams.
and yeah, they're the private little memories that you stash for rainy days. because you keep them near and you keep them dear, and you just always know that their heart is home. and in winter it is the coals under your feet, and with the spring it is the all the crazy leaves that sprout from trees.
i won't go back to those days when it was just a passing feeling, because it never passed. the years wore on and still, it goes: you come back for more and more. you say, they are the spring that keeps you strong. and no one will ever measure up. and you wouldn't want anyone to.
let's go back to that one night where nothing else mattered. i'm not your twilight anymore, and i'm the same amount of miles as ever from your graces.
but they keep you pedaling forward in a panic, rushing towards undefinable goals. and they are the hopes you hang your hat on. and then, it's just a plaid blanket thinning on the edges, but it's the trust and the comfort that keeps you picking up where you left off. always. it's an always.
so when i offer up all my spare change, know i'd do it all over again. trust me when i say it's just love, just beleive me.


debris knows nothing of our infidelities

Posted on 2005.11.22 at 23:55
set it all (all of it) ablaze
burn it from the sore eyesights and the heavyhearted
broken stolid feeling on tiresome grounds
as autumn concludes so does another desolate pocket of time
to stow away for endlessly quiet years, coming and going
with neglect and intent to kill
a brash insecure troublesome young soul
with all this bleeding the ink through the pages
give it all up just to get by
demolish this abolition and know nothing less

golden webolos

Posted on 2005.11.16 at 22:35
i want nothing less than the uphill battle towards minnetaska, and at the pinnacle: a dying sun, three drab tents, a cement wall with multicolored handprints encompassing a desolate kitchenette. it's fresh air, sifting in on through those lungs of yours, as you handpick your home from a row of five glorious houses lined up against the rival hills. i know through and through what a lie this is, gliding down your condo in deer run on many an afternoon, but i never even bothered to let you stand there corrected. we collapse in the grass that would later yet get dug out for worst of the worst when it come to mud fights. filthy and soaking, i'd never seen sets of kids any more elated. it's just me and you and another scandel. it's just me and you and another year forgotten. it's just me and you in all this time wondering why it is we left all that behind, couldn't tell you. wouldn't want to.

those goddamned betty blues

Posted on 2005.11.16 at 02:52
"that girl is some trouble, understood?" i see her fashion a discerning look towards my bloodied face. she makes no effort to veil her words, which tonight i can only find admirable. "try not to get mixed up in that, do you hear? are you hearing this?"

i can barely decipher her cautionary overtones as my head splits every which way. i feel the cracks sift downward from the scalp on in, burying themselves under all the stale leftover anguish. he nods not once but twice.

he leans in toward my stool now, his feet bearing down on the metal bar that juts across. a wet cloth dampens my cheeks, connected to donnie "whom the wind belows for." it was once a drunken night down around past those careless little greenwood shops, then it was only him and his soliloques. i pocketed every precious one, to this day and every day on.

"you make a real good mess of yourself," he declares sullenly, his voice dropping an octave as she fixes me another good look. she stands sqaut, a domineering figure in a shapeless frock. there's a faint undertone of rose water beneath the sting of whiskey.

the kitchen is all browns and oranges and golden drawer pulls and hinges and tarnished aluminum sets of pots and utensils cluttered all about the countertop. she is what sullivan would call "a hell of a woman": well versed with a bible, terrible with cuss words nonetheless, earned every grey hair on her head.

so this is a face you can never forget. it's another dying winter evening, with the wind whipping through the naked branches and the gusts pounding on the window panes. and here is a pained middleaged woman, a woman with an odd sense of honor, menacingly boring her hazel eyes into the underside your bashed lip. but something in her softens for an ever fleeting moment.

"do you care to explain, honey?" as she pours an even amount of boiled water into a pale green cylinder.

"mom," donnie grits through his unaligned teeth. he feverishly cleans off the dashes along my jawline, more intent than necessary.

"we all have our off days," she reasons, almost pathetically. i recall those stories donnie polished off on one of those early morning drives back to my place, right before the sun would rise if we were lucky. in them i met his father, who left not only them but three families in utter disrepair, nothing more than a ghost in their household. and the sister, short and stubborn and emptyhearted, but a dignitary all the same. lastly the mother, a failed dancer and a failed housewife, grappling with the apathy of failure with a few select elixirs. i envied her in some strange sense, her rounded wise eyes and her careful limerick. god, how these are things i hope to never learn.

donnie goes to pour some tea in a few more cylinders. what a pair. she is a woman with a sqaure build, broad shoulders and wide hips. i see his own shoulder bones sqaure in essense, with the bones carefully stretched out, but his hips are narrow and his waistline nonexistent. i wonder about the phantom father and the shocking green eyes he had to have passed on. she sees me drinking them in more fervently than the herbal remedy.

"fight?" she finally speaks, a blunt tone.

"no, never," i mechanically reply. i push the hair away from my face, revealing yet another gash donnie rushes to attend. i've considered myself mostly a pacifist since as far back as i'd care to count, but as of late that stance has been tested.

she's waiting for further response, which i don't grant. donnie reluctantly offers, "these things happen. just keep you head up, that's what you say." and his eyes are back to the patch of skin along my collarbone.

"bullshit."

it is and she knows it and she says it. the room darkens and we fall in together, momentarily, into the sort of lull that makes you wonder why it is you go on lying to yourself and to others, why you keep on fighting this losing game, why you spin records in the hopes of making sense of an answer that will never clarify, and why it is so unnatural to carry on as you do.

just keep you head up, and i feel a clutch in the back of my throat. a burden, as my nose frenzies itself and my eyes can't help but water. she crosses the linolium floor in her worndown slippers made of dull fabric, puts her hand on my shoulder. i can't even look up.

"he's an honest kid," she clues me in. i swallow a mouthful of nothing. "always has been, to a fault. get yourself cleaned up, get yourself together. or there'll you'll be, dirty and tattered all over again, no home and no tears left, you see? don't you dare ever look back, don't you dare, understood?"

the dust settles

Posted on 2005.11.12 at 15:21
you outgrew ghostwriter, where's waldo?, derek jeter, and all your clothing from the limited too, but i never knew how quick you'd outgrow something else. hey, i'll keep those nights in your basement, those lunch breaks on the picnic table, all the crazy laughs and all the long forgotten tears. even if that's the only thing i had left. so hey, you're ten million miles from home, even when you're in our town. you're not there in my foyer with your broad smile, and you're not there unless you need me to be around for you. and it all echoes empty. hey, i wouldn't give a dozen years back to you, and i still cling to all the worldly promises we never knew if we'd keep or not. i know i likely was never a friend good enough, that i was too flighty and then also not the type your folks would want you associating with. i know the kid you used to be, not who you've grown into, and i'll just take that for all that it could be. i don't miss you for distance on the map, i miss the loyalty and love inherent once in all our words. you're just another passing ship and i'll dock safely tonight never knowing the places you may just go. i wanted to be there twenty years down but i've lost all hope. what if i'm just an embarassment, or an annoyance, or a waste? i feel that in the back of my throat and on the ends of my hands. hey, i always said i owed you the moon, and i'll hold to that. i meant it then and i'll carry through until there's nothing left. there's me back in your hometown even if you'd never know it. please keep growing because that is what you do best. with or without me, i always know where your roots are. i know your aim is true i'm just ever so sorry that it hurts so much to know where it all ends up. i never could be good enough for you or amazing or fun or whatnot, but you're the best friend i ever did have and that just takes some time to get used to losing. hey, carry on. you'll go place i only dream about or pine for, and you'll be amazing. and even if you never know how i feel now, at least know i love you still and i'm sorry what time has done to what once was. it just so happens i don't know what else to do. hey, we grow up and grow away.

laundry list

Posted on 2005.10.31 at 04:24
just someone who knows what it is they want. who isn't so afraid to throw those words around if they all ring true. just someone who gets me, who crosses out my mistakes and rights my wrongs and muddles up my fiction living for the more favorable. the one who won't mind for the stars and understand why it is i count on them after all is said and done, and always brings the blanket. a dull color but vibrant in it's own defense. someone who spins the right tracks and lets it all make sense in my ears as the noise jets inward. someone who's never distant despite their miles, who let their permanent nature resound. someone who carries on long after it's over, or who never lets it end. who won't cry in public, won't laugh for attention, won't cause a scene until it is so necessary. someone honest to a fault, with fragile little weak bones jutting all out unabashedly. who can carry a tune but doesn't make a thing of it, just lets it be what it is. who knows their way around a word or two and can string them together well enough. doesn't always have to say all the right things, just the most truthful. a little eloquence never hurt a soul. shoes, nice. eyes, questionable. mouth, well this is how it goes. outspoken but shy in demeanor. someone who still knows a thing or two of being downright gentle. mildmannered and sincere. who doesn't work their way into a corner but rather opens yet another window. opens doors and pulls out chairs and still knows fashion in the finest sense. someone who can pen a canto and paint strokes all over a canvas in any which direction. dependable and solid. someone who doesn't necessarily put others needs first all the time, but know when to and when not to. someone with a sense of humor. so much humor and good charm and grace. someone nervous but warming. who tucks away all the dreams every night to reinvent them tomorrow. spontaneous and courageous, with a side of inexplicit energy. who handles dejection with such beauty it is a wonder it occured at all. still knows the way through a heart and back. can throw around complexities without grandiose behavior. never goes and uses the word grandiose. focuses and what is rather than what isn't. teaches key lessons: learn not to regret, chin up, believe in the power of spirit. someone who will defy all odds to work with rather than against. who bridges what can no longer be and what oppurtunity lies ahead. who brings out the best, who warms cold heart and stretches weary smiles. a whole lot of dollars is never necessary. just know how to spend them and why. knows the ins and outs of maps and has a sense of adventure. wants to see every stretch of land twiceover. a traveler with more gas mileage than frequent flier miles, but either or really. an ambition that is undaunted. fearless but never morose. handy and trustworthy and compelling and someone who knows that life is only worth living for the moment, never for the past, not always for the gamble of a future. but for the perfection of the present, a life of only fond memories of uncharacteristically flawless love.
someone who believes in "unconditional"...regardless.


give up the deaddd

Posted on 2005.10.29 at 19:42
yeah i really would be lying if i were ever to say i went a day or so without mulling it over.
the heating system came with the house. the computer screen keeps me warmer. every time i read those writings i feel like it's the first. it's the saddest sort of testament to how the end all came to us at different speeds. only my ending never really came.
so i wait. and i tick off the friends i've lost when they didn't succeed in fulfilling this desolate little space. i can't believe i'm so detached and yet it all aches just the same, never dulling to my dishonesty with graceful living.
uhhuh. i read your goddamn greenbook 30 times over night by night and it's still some abandoned jimmy eat world song that ends up getting me.
fuck that "it's not the incapacity to love, it's the failure." shut the fuck up it's the bricks you laid all around yourself, a sheen of fear reconciling your shabby ways. this month just won't end already, well it's not the days i'm fighting.
it's the fear that the further i propel myself and the more i attempt to deceive anyone or everyone into thinking it was all just a hoax and i can laugh now...it's only ever two steps back.
because once there was something that was, and now there is nothing that is.
and i've had some very difficult nights trying to swallow that concept whole.
that, and this: it's all bullshit. and that was no trouble swallowing me up.

testing the strong ones

Posted on 2005.10.25 at 01:09
i miss the hospital bed. and the way your fleece blanket felt running against your frigid hands. i miss the apathetic drone of the cable television set suspended above our heads. i miss the drip of the iv when we pretended everything could be silent, when i wasn't spinning copeland to drown out that horrible woman two rooms down. i miss your torn up slippers your brother delivered from your house with the note from your mother detailing just why, exactly, she couldn't pull herself away from that firm down in atlanta. i miss that goddamn perky nurse who came on in every hour on the hour regardless of just how closed the door was. i miss your face when you shoved some of the regulation hospital food into your mouth. i miss sneaking you snickers in from the vending machines on the ground floor. i miss the fragile way your friends would come and speak to you, as if any passing word could break you all over again. i miss the way you just used to hold on tight when they told you any day could be the end, and the way you used to wince when they explained why. i miss the horrid view of the adjacent brick wall staring back at us through your landscape window. i miss the sanitized lemon smell of the hallways as i carved my path toward you every night. i miss getting kicked out when visiting hours lapsed, and crossing our fingers every night the lenient monitor would be on duty. i miss you telling me to take your pills with me to the nearest receptacle, and i miss begging you not to ask me to do that. i miss the pastel paint on the walls. i miss the way the numbers were rubbed out on the elevator. i miss just how awful that all was.
i'm lying.
i don't miss any of that in the least.
i just miss you knowing just how fucking much i cared about you.

here's to every white sedan jetting around 211

Posted on 2005.09.16 at 00:17
i know what it is that i want and i know it's only a few yards away. & i'm yelling, please. someone put up a fucking fight. it's another goddamn thursday night and i've just been sucker punched for nine straight hours. i'm sorry, if only, i know, i realize, this and that and oh my fucking god you're waiting by my car. there are a few places i feel safe: between either my sheets or your arms, preferably both. let me get this said. anyone could throw the word maudlin around but tonight it's what i'm sinking into, between this catchy little song that danced across my hollow mind all the livelong day to the race to your couch at half past. uhhuh, yeah, i would have waited all day for that moment had i seen it coming. i'm absolutely blindsided. they took another goddamn gallon of blood today, i swear i'm wearing thin. i tell you this and you grimace. i should have known you'd seen the worst of it, seen me through the days you have been yourself out of for five years and counting. i only write this sort of spiel down when you come around...i'm eyes and ears all year around but i never get the words said. it's only your freakishly glowing sort of eyes that make the words worth keeping.

fkguegt

Posted on 2005.08.18 at 22:55
freckles is in dallas on three day's worth of false hopes. i sit still in a split-level with a bitten lip and a lot of bitterness. it's calmer when you're breathing and chaos gives way to a crown. i carry it uphill in a broken wicker basket and gift you with what i've been saving up for from this day on in. i felt it when i fell. "just say hello to the ground."

honey in the homestead.

Posted on 2005.08.11 at 05:59
honey in the wintertime,
you or i or a little bit of both will spread our wings in each our own somewhat meaningful direction,
this is all i know.
eyelashes are all you really need
to rope in a good time in this town.
a girl stretches out her bones in the lawn or yard or wherever it is you need to be,
and it all sinks below the skin.
you love her because you don't know what else to do.
a car pauses at a octagon
but the motion goes on and on and i haven't even skimmed the surface of infinite depths of kinetic energy.
that is what i don't know.
it's just something that has to go on,
so we all fit together in a jigsaw because we need to.
not for ourselves-
for this bitter empty little promise of existence
that never even mattered before the leaves browned with time
and limitless energy.
i believe you.
something in me always has.
it is just a crime that will be commited again and again
until it becomes a nameless little novelty.
so a four-door under a mound of snow means nothing in memory...
but the vision from the rail lines set me off for days.
they fight fires because it is something to do,
and the ink on their arms is just a certain sort of pride in themselves which perhaps they so deserve.
i need a shrink in every city.
the best of the best,
someone oprah guides me to in nothing slight of a stupor by any means.
someone to tell me all that i already know.
i won't ask about the stone walls and the qaurrys
and you won't ask for how long i've been gone when all in all i've really just be jetting around getting the best of the best.
in the wintertime honey,
we'll all float towards the dawn.
round eyes and pouty little mouths
and honey thick skin
protective garments cloaking skin.
you'll say to me beautifully
what was and will never again me.
we're all poised for a moment that is coming sooner and sooner with every far cry from home.
honey
it just was.


the dumbing down of love

Posted on 2005.07.31 at 03:54
i was looking for an out with an easy in.
this is me giving up on open eyelids. i let you keep four dollars and ninety cents, exactly, in your pocket. you reach my door at x:43am and it's been so long overdue. i say i'm leaning on these broken promises and the faultlines shake my morale. you're a chuckle late in reply.
tonight on my doorstep with a dimly lit afterglow that helped you navigate your way to my road. it's late but it will only get later.
can i tuck you in?
i just want to be safe. i don't get in cars with boys from newark on a drug run up north in a skirt and a shallow vague smile. "i'm only half puerto rican, and i look almost fully white, i swear."
"i don't care how you look or what you sound like. NOT TONIGHT."
you've forgotten the sounds of key stroke and home is where you hang yourself. it's a filling feeling that hollows out your bones.
it's eyelashes in wintertime when everything else becomes nonexistent, or a crinkle of hair that falls towards your left hair to your chagrin. yeah i'll do it if you'll take it up another notch, raise the bar, do it up, whatever gets us through the night.
tonight i rode out until i forgot that harrowing moment in the kitchen. the ceramic shattered against linolium when it shouldn't have. we all tore ourselves up for uncommited crimes.
you take the ring and you wear it.
this isn't a matter of give and let live. it's take and mistake.
we walked down the sidewalk for four and three qaurters blocks. against the weight of a chainlink fence you admitted this isn't something natural. often done for you, even. i wouldn't believe that line if you fed it to me on the bowl that just shattered on my floor.
you would or could say "wait this one out."
this time i can't.
i just can't shake one thing out of my system... i wrote not even two days before this one. i ardently waited for a response and to not so much of my shock...what you carve out for yourself is crumbling.
i will fall asleep before seven tonight and wake up with a thick knit sweater wrapped around my body. and i will be just as afraid as i may be tonight but i will don that hazy little smile that kept you coming up to new york on weekends in august.
i don't know what did it. this time i'll do it.
it just takes longer for some than others.
"you're the luckiest bastard this side of the mason-dixon line."

fic-the lie we liked to live

Posted on 2005.07.25 at 13:33
I frame myself in the doorway of A-23 with a weakling smile dancing across my lips.
Pad is still, somehow, balancing on the balls of his feet. He graces me with a lackluster expression and openly admits that he drank himself into oblivion the night before last.
Harry of hearts had hashed out the sordid tale to me over freshly baked cruellers with some ridiculous French sort of name. After he’d bailed out of his culinary institute the semester before last, I’d have to suffer through some horrible baked goods if I wanted to get him to talk. There was an incident with a bathtub he’d rather not get to explicit with, and a few reckless moments in a parking garage. I nodded and tried to gnaw off a bit of his bread, to no avail.
Still, he’s still. His eyes flicker slightly against the poorly lit window panes. A phone rings and is ignored somewhere in a far corner of the room. He’s so hauntingly motionless sometimes.
“I think I may have a thing or two to say about Clarke.”
I miss Gian Clarke like I miss my tattered boots, which at this point in time is not very much. We all get worn thin from time and time again.
He continues onward with this proposed subject of Clarke. His lips purse together, as though mimicking the humdrum of the conversation in itself. Ridiculous. I expect him to start the topic off with something ridiculously contrived, such as He’s not who you think he is. Pad never fails me when it comes to such.
“He’s gay.”
“Halfway.”
“Close enough,” Pad rockets back. An uncomfortable shift in his disposition occurs rapidly. He’s losing footing. “Wasn’t he in juvi or something?”
“Weren’t you?”
He drops down into a recliner facing the westernmost window. “I was never locked up like that, per se.”
Pad was institutionalized at 16. It was a gray patch in his seemingly colorful life. He’ll hardly disperse details. His folks figured him out to be an incredible liar of some sort. It seemed to have taken him “forever” to convince the place he was worth releasing. He’d 19 now, and you’d never know it through his sullen eyes.
“My only crime was not knowing quite how to be a kid,” he intones. His voice is thick and wrought with discourage. It’s so maudlin. I pivot slightly enough to get closer to the door. He hears the creak in a loose floorboard. “Leaving?”
“I don’t think I can do this. Right now. Or here. Or…” I wince. My words are just as awkward tumbling out of mouth as they seem to be as I haphazardly construct them in my head. He nods.
“Remember that time we went up to Hawk’s Nest? The night of Andre’s Bishbosh?”
“Vaguely,” I answer sullenly.
“Well, we were out in that little green gazebo. You hadn’t met Clarke yet, you would that same night on the train home. I knew then that I was going to lose you.”
“What?” It’s all I can think to muster, forgive me for lacking wit.
“You were kind of acting funny all night. Kept trying to mingle and stuff.” His voice softens as he proceeds. “I always knew what I wanted when it came to you. Always. Even after everything, you never had me doubting that for a second. So I put hand over foot, trying to get you to realize that. Believing that. You always look so pained, like it hurts to even try. It shouldn’t. If you were with me, I’d never let it.”
It all dangles around the word if. I lean the weight of my body against an armrest facing Pad in his recliner. “I’d like to go on believing I could have had you forever. So please don’t correct me.”
My lower lip is sore from biting down on it.
He carries on. “I firmly wanted to believe Clarke was put there…not to destroy me, but to fulfill you. You always had this sort of wanting in you. You wanted more. Different. Intangible, I don’t know… You didn’t want what I wanted. Then he came along.”
I choke out a few words. “Why are you telling me all this?” My throat grates like sandpaper as they rise into the air.
“Guess I just am. Did that night mean anything to you?”
“Well…”
“Beyond Clarke,” he quickly juts in.
“It always will.” The words sound foreign from my mouth. I had myself believing it was all nothing, a figment of my ridiculous mind.
Something snaps inside Pad. A little loose end I never tied up. “Maybe you should just fucking leave.”
My eyebrows knit up instinctively. He sheds this forlorn little look to reveal a hardened expression. He’s so up and down. I never quite could stand it. I don’t budge. “Who are you kidding?”
It rings hollow. “It was always you.”
His accusation takes on forms I could have never dreamt up. They run up and down my spine until my brain connects all the necessary wires to compute. There was a boy named Ian in my calc class last semester who believed my incompetence warranted such as idle threats as “If anything was simpler than this, my calculator would explode.” I think only ever so fondly of Ian now, as all the calculations slowly but surely work their way at destroying me.
What could he possibly want me to say?
I loathe mornings. I woke up way too early for my own good every single morning just to meet up with Pad at the corner Java Hut. He ran circles around me every morning, so alive and so beautifully flawed. He loved when I wore skirts that danced around in the wind and he had to suit up everyday for a graphics art office job and did so ever so fantastically. I bought him ties at a street vendor that sold trendy items and standbys alike for the lowest dollar amount possible. His teeth would shine as he thanked me and kissed me on the forehead.
Cars travel their paths floors below us on crowded, monotonous streets. The drone of our own thoughts take precedence over whatever could be occurring out there. My eyes dully itch. Silence has prevailed for far too long.
“What happened last weekend?”
He mindlessly fished a coffee cup off the end table. “Same as any weekend.” His face is only somewhat illuminated by the thinning brown light reflecting from the lampshade. “I did what I could after everything. I saw Clarke catching the F and all—what in the hell could he be doing? I mean, that boy lived and breathed by or around you. I wanted…I wanted to rid his mouth of teeth or something. I wanted to prove something to him. Like I know pain. Not just in your name. I was, overcome. The ailments, the ridicule, the destruction. Whatever it could have been. It just caught up to me and hit me. Not like bricks…but. The air just got knocked right out my lungs.”
Harry of hearts drew a blank during this little tidbit. He had stuffed his mouth with his little croissants or whatever the hell they were, and averted his gaze. He wrote “He socked him” on a dirty napkin. After he finished off said baked good, he went through a little prerehearsed skit. He couldn’t recall, he lost track of time, it was neither here nor there, such on and so forth.
“And?”
“It doesn’t even matter.”
“What the fuck, Padraic? Of course it fucking matters. Clarke’s been gone and you’re suddenly all over the place. How much sketchier could this all get?”
Pad decides to stand up. I expect him to hurtle the empty ceramic cup against the hardwood floor, perhaps maybe even at me. The room is dim and I try to focus on a strange little clock situated in the upper righthand corner just to remain still.
“I never lied to you, not once,” he scratches out through a thick throat. “I never could lie to you. To me, you’re goddamn perfect. Clarke—he comes around, lays you out, and leaves. But he has you. Like a sucker, he just had you. I’d take care of you. I’d fucking marry you and be with you and that doesn’t mean shit.”
“This wasn’t about Clarke!” My voice rises to his. “I won’t even tell you. I couldn’t.”
“Wait!”
I’m headed for his door. I fumble with the knob. I take to the stairwell. I focus on taking the stairs easily, my hands clenching on to the rails for the life of me.
Pad holds dominion at the top. “He’s gone! Don’t you get it?”
“Shut the fuck up!” I warn, ever so eloquently. “You don’t what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Like hell I don’t,” he seethes. I finally hear the cup shatter against the cement walls. “It’s never over.”
I’m a floor below him. His irregular breathing still seems so palpable. I could lay on his chest for hours and listen to the exaggerated inhales and exhausting exhales until the sun rose through his blinds. It never gets any easier. We all fall into something or another at some point or another and it’s so utterly terrifying. It’s just some boy a floor above me. They’ll be a dozen more. I could never replace him, nor would I want to.
I take the stairs lightly. There is no soundtrack to my resignation. When it’s all over, an uncomfortable silence envelopes me. Clarissa is at the door. She’s a fairskinned, lighthearted girl who sits outside on a stool day in and day out playing her violin. I drop a hundred of Pad’s dollars into her wicker basket and her fragile smile pauses to nod in my way. Her notes finally carry over to me. Pad watches me from a seventh story window. I stare back into those icy eyes that know their way in and out of my body. He draws his shades.
It’s a goodnight at six in the morning. I’ve never loved you more. The sidewalk is this desolate little slat of unwanted space and my footsteps fill it. I’ll walk until my feet numb and revel in the little jabs of pain. It’s a goodnight on any given night, I just don’t know where to find it.

june one

Posted on 2005.06.02 at 09:45
last night i felt the air was stagnate enough to be brilliant. i tested it out on my front lawn. it was all so still and so was i. i heard the van roll up at qaurter past three. we all knew i'd get it out off my mind through my mouth from my lips...in time i'd do it. i remained enveloped in a pocket of time and space and energy that engulfed me and cast me off. i traced my fingers from the grass and there it was. everything i'd given up my regular, timed breathing for. i'm going to have to give you up. tonight. i'm going to have to let you go. tonight. the pants hung on his hips a little loosely and he leaned back towards the ground. we both knew this would happen eventually. but let's not get out of control. we choose comfort and convenience every hour of every day. we spun "the cure for the pain is the pain" in the hope's that we'd believe it. don't make me a mixtape. i won't draw stars all over your dashboard anymore. we can pretend we're not so cut and dry. we learned how to live this way from a handful of clever songs. it's essential in the way we dress, speak, and act. and the way we give eachother up. he still has the ink on your inner wrist. remember the coy smile, how you abhored the word "grand"? i'm giving you up. it was a showstopper, for sure, when i met you on that floor. his catchy poppunk anthems resonate in my tired bones. i saw rise against on fuse. who'd to think our song would be on the airwaves a few years later? it seems the trend to sing along poorly in indie videos, i decried, but he couldn't give less of a fuck. what is a fuck? what the fuck is this? i'm going to have to do the right thing, brody. the honorable thing. he brought a ham sandwich and i didn't ask why. the air was still. as were we. it never ended last night. i'm going to have to pay my respects for a friendship better left dead. i'll regard it as all the reason in the world for irregular breathing and static conversations. i hate grammar and you taught me everything i needed about biting my lip and chalking it up and dancing it off and grabbing my hand. i want dos mil tres back on the table. i want to spin it back to you. who invented the clean air act? without all the smoke i just feel the stick of sweat all over me just that much more. i miss the grody cigarette smell that used to emit its odor all throughout the car on our drives home. i don't want to give chicago up. but i have to. i'm going to do this summer right. did you want to give me up? i didn't want to give you up. it still stings to hear those hooks. i can't explain what it does to me, what he does to me, what the fuck is this. sugar we are NOT going down swinging. i can't stand modern radio. remember when we saw fob at the vault and yeah it still feels that fucking good. this is emptying my thoughts out your exhaust pipe. when did we start going and where are we going. who the fuck cares, all i know is we're going. i love my scene boys, you claim. i'm going down to brooklyn to drink these memories away with the king of the scene. fuccck that boy. he doesn't need no date brooo. oh he needs to get laid like nobody's business. perhaps he shouldn't be so self-aggrandazing. exactly. i'm just killing time and space. i fucking love this. i miss it in my veins oh so much. i'm not giving you up tonight.

WHO IS THE VICTORY?

Posted on 2005.05.25 at 11:02
Who Is The Victory?

dp: What war are you fighting?

03: The wrong one. It’s give and it’s take. I’ve been coasting for a few years. You have to separate yourself from the mess and take it all in with a clearer state of mind…one I have yet to find. The search hasn’t been prosperous, may I add. I’ve looked to the wrong vices, had some acid friends here and there, all the things you try and detach yourself from to air your mind on out.

dp: Why are you doing it? Are you still loyal?

03: God, no, I’m not as loyal as I should be. I speak up every so often. It’s a way of emptying out my mind and dumping it on others. I don’t want to house all this inside of me, bottle it up. It’s just in me, festering. I still seek that out again. The same ridiculous camaraderie that destroyed a few kids. I don’t know, I haven’t let it go as I should have. I really should.

dp: You say you talked of it?

03: Very basic, factual information. I needed a way to explain the waves of emotions that seem to course through me. The kids I told this to were screened carefully by me, you know, to make positive that I wasn’t messing up. I can’t have this get out or back to anyone who shouldn’t be hearing it. I didn’t tear through the skin of the thing. I just had to stay afloat.

dp: How did that go over?

03: Wide eyes and well articulated interrogations, mostly. I heard a lot of “Why”? So much of it. Why the hell did I do it? What the hell were we thinking? It seems so insane. I guess it is and all. They keep on jabbing for a reasoning that I’ve been trying to dilute with further inane explanation. They ask, and I always come up short.

dp: So you regret it then?

03: All of it and none of it.

dp: Does that make sense to you?

03: I’ve learned certain aspects of my life make sense to all of us. Every single kid there could understand the absolute euphoria of it, and then the collision of that time with the reality of life. It’s harsh and I’d never endured any greater pain. But so be it. We were young and we took ourselves very seriously.

dp: So what unites you?

03: Every night. Every promise, every person, every shred of laughter. Every goddamn memory we’re supposed to just erase from our minds. Every beautiful moment that has walked through my life. We were in it to win it, just like they all said, but… we lost it.

dp: What is it?

03: Ourselves and each other. That is everything we’re living for.

dp: Were you affected then by outside sources?

03: No. Then I could care less about money, about infamy, about success, about the idealistic notion of a future. I know that none of that’s coming for me. I’m okay with that. It’s not supposed to.

dp: You stayed.

03: I stayed.

dp: Why?

03: I’m not about to throw my life away for a promise. I still need an education, I need a family, and far be it for me to deny this… I need stability. It’s not so crazy. Those were some of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever come across. They’re not wasting it, I wouldn’t say. They don’t need to stay in school, the way I see it. I do. I’m not that bright.

dp: Do you want it back?

03: …No.

dp: Who do you miss?

03: Honestly? I can’t even answer that.

dp: Okay, don’t. So who is the Victory?

03: Oh, God. There’s nothing victorious about this story. Let’s just give it up for tonight.

dp: Let’s. Take it out.

03: ...

(they found me)

Posted on 2005.05.16 at 12:34
i always wondered if i was anything short of enough. well enough is enough. i've had it all with weighing all the factors until it weighed down on my mind. my mouth has moved mountains with single syllables. i've heard myself confess the nights i thought i'd let fester for some time with little to no resonance. why are we penning cantos on your rooftop when our feet should be grounded down below. why are we hiding in shrubbery, our dry faces plastered with smirks, when all we really need is some honestly in our lies. why are we declaring our loneliness over radials of innumerable acreage when we need to be closing the distance to feel complete. why are we reconciling we can never give back what we already gave away when we haven't given grace to eachother just yet. why are we burying bodies that housed great deals of who we became when we haven't yet become what we need to, to speak at the wake. why are we running on a world that spins from daylight to somber nights when we won't even live half of it. why are we closing our eyes to the inaccuracies that are collecting on a dust cover of a novel we have yet to write. why am i denying these sentences question marks as punctuation when i really do believe these go unanswered. why do we let the days pass but we hold on with clenched fists and merciless grips to the days that have long since left us. why do we miss eachother most when we're the closest physically and the furthest from what we believed to be euphoria. why do we walk planks that we sawed off for the enemies that tried to lead us to our demise. why can we only forward so long and we never forgot the most forgettable, albiet regrettable, nights.


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