remind me why
I'm still awake
sleep elude me so?
I've searched corners
but answers still elude me so
i doubt myself
and where I stand
in whatever it is
that keeps me awake
and with street lights
guiding my way
through dawn cascading
the walk down every
heavy steps upon the street
questioning until collapse
the beer cans at my feet
I never really let myself look back at it,
you know, since I transformed into this person,
since my heart relearned its beat,
and my eyes regained their sight,
and my mouth relearned a speech that could stand up for
the brain that's had to muster every ounce of confusion,
every spec of pain,
every seed of anger,
and release it until the look in my tearless and fearless eyes
gained light again.
I never wanted to lose you.
I just had to if I wanted to come back from the dead,
from the grave I made in my hollow bed,
formed with baby green sheets and a pillow for my headstone.
That was your choice.
I just walked away from a world that would never care.
Sometimes... I just really hate when you're the inspiration behind
the fingertips clicking on the keyboard,
when you're the reason why I let myself bleed into a poem,
when you're the motive in a desperate attempt for me to have something for myself.
And then I remember... that's how I escape the way I'd wrap
around your conniving little finger until it turned to blade.
I always find it interesting to see how fleeting my existence can be.
It's like a game, isn't it?
The drunken texts, the awkwardly un-awkward hugs, the hellos and goodbyes
that turn into absolutely nothing.
It's funny how I'm the one who can be normal.
The hardest thing I've ever had to do is accept that you aren't you,
that almost everything you do is a charade,
you parade about wanting pity and remorse,
you love the sadness as much as you hate it,
you hate the deception as much as you crave it,
and I simply cannot do that.
Maybe I haven't fully accepted it yet.
I wonder when I'll be invisible again.
When talking to me, wear a hard hat,
or on your face, you'll fall flat.
I'm the shit, and I'm where it's at.
People get down on your knees,
or I'll chop you down, like dead trees,
I never promise or make guarantees.
I take the roads less traveled,
never confused and rarely baffled,
in my web, you all get tangled.
None of you can compete,
I like girls that are petite,
never will I take a back seat.
It's me that people always follow,
the girls I meet always swallow,
so what if I'm very shallow.
I'm all that and a bag of chips,
my head's so big, everyday is an eclipse,
no one has a bigger bag of tricks.
I have an ego to the highest power,
I bloom more than any kind of flower,
don't mess with me, or I'll devour.
No other person is close to me,
I sting worse than a bumble bee,
to all the secrets, I hold the key.
Not my fault my head is big,
mess with me and I'll stuff you like a pig,
I shoot loads like an oil rig.
I'll break your heart and rip out your soul,
you can't touch me with a ten foot pole,
my life is always in cruise control.
This is me when I'm feeling manic,
no need to worry, no need to panic,
just call me the rhyme mechanic.
I have done dope like the pope says his prayers,pushed coke up the stairways that led up my nose,
blown porsche's and rollers,smoked them lined up like soldiers in syringes that marched through my veins I have injected insane through the pores of my pain and with angel dust injected again,
but now I'm a good boy, an out of the hood boy,informed and forming opinions which storm through the past.
The icy blast of awakening sings to me,brings it all home to me,
'Oh to be in England'
now everything is clear.
if i put my hand above my cat
she reaches her head out
to have me cup it
i am the same with you
i compensate for the distance you don't feel like going
or maybe you just know that i'll always reach for it
so you don't bother...
i know, too
I read eulogies from time to time
to pass the time, I find in some rejected newspaper.
The language is foreign, for I am
alive and in two hundred or so words I am to know,
who this person was and that
they were loved or respected or validated in two
dimensions plus words and a
picture, when not so long ago they were three
dimensions that filled voids in
other peoples lives, striving to make the world
around them a better place,
battled hard in a war, and fell its only victim.
Swallow the bitter pill,
there ain't no better place,
than where you are right
now, with words written
as plain as the pain on
your face, so listen and
I will try to take you to
a better place maybe I
will transport you to
a euphoric utopia but
that will take opiates,
for my words will just
make you dizzy, Gillespie,
get off that computer and
go to bed, and then you
will dream dreams of us
meeting instead, where I
will be humble and you
will be dapper unless you
are a girl then you will
be "a beautiful rendition of the Mona Lisa"
pray what is behind that
smile and how do your
whites stay so pearly and
your hair, so light and curly,
like the clouds over head,
with a background of blue
sky that holds that daystar,
and reflects off the water in
the duck pond and blinds
my eyes and makes the tear
oft fall, salty on my sleeve,
as I hold one up to wipe
a tear, I feel your hanky
brush my eye lash and I blush with unabashed charm,
but if we were manly men
walking under the trees,
along a pathway of asphalt,
walking sticks pressed into palms
of hands, not those topical trees,
along side us grass, dotted with Canada geese,
oh do watch your step dear
boy, or you might grease your
soul, which would be a helluva
a way to let this perfect day
slip away and take us from
this better place.
It matters not who I am with, for when I am with you, whom ever you are,
I am away from here, therefore found in a better place.