A desire grew in him to be elsewhere
So he left those sickly streets and flew far, farther.
Farther even than the sunset and then he sat
He sat until the desire grew again and then he rose.
Heart pounding, but feet sitting firm
A desperate cast to the recesses of memory,
Baiting that sense of home,
The feeling grew big, bigger, even bigger still
Until still he could sit no longer.
So he turned and turned and turned, turning
Like a clock spinning in time-lapse over a cheesy montage,
Turned in on himself and just turning on himself.
Looking to himself and finding lack
Coming to himself and realizing the lack was love.
A desire grew in him to be someone else.
It's easy to be the
Life of the party.
You just drink more
Than everyone else.
You just tell funnier
Jokes and make more
Cups in beer pong but
Always finish your side-beer.
You be the one always
Yelling for more shots
And know all the rules
To kings cup.
You always lose
And you're the go-to
Man for flip cup.
People talk about you
When you aren't there
"He drinks too much
But damn he's awesome."
When they want low-key,
You aren't invited.
But you have your
Other parties anyway.
Slam back beers
Red faced groggy eyed
Throw up just to
Start over again.
Drive home still drunk
To wake up still alone
And do it all
Yeah, its easy to be
The life of the party
When you're the
Only one there.
Contentment is such a fleeting state
Take a drag
Feeling like all is right until
Wondering sets in and you question each choice
Reading through coulda, shoulda, woulda,
Inhale, exhale, ash
Pointless exercises are just circles, really
But the thoughts travel the well worn road to
The empty seatbelt flashes the Sun
Into my eyes as if
I needed a reminder that
You aren't there.
Sometimes I realize I don't
Do happy very well
And when I'm really trying I
See that you can tell.
You give me the look you
Used the other day
When you cock your head to ask
Babe, are you okay?
I want so bad to break down
But inside I know
You need me to be strong so
Both of us can grow.
So I summon my inner actor
And give my smile a shine
I lie in your eyes and say
Yes, lover, I'm doing fine.
When my own words fail its
A leaf falls or
Maybe my hour of lead.
When I don't know what next it's
Follow the frosty poet down
The path less traveled by
Those mice that have grown wilder
Reflect my thoughts when
My own words fail.
I've been called a tease, sometime heart-breaker.
I never wanted to break yours 'cause
I know hearts are like fine ceramics.
Repaired, you can still see the cracks.
Baby, your cracks are chasms. So what are mine?
I'm afraid to do this because
I know you'll lose a piece or two.
And I know you'll lose your peace, too.
Pots missing pieces don't hold things well.
I promise, you held me just fine.
I need you to know this isn't what
I want to do to you.
There are few things I want more
Than to see you happy.
There's no rhyme or rhythm.
And I'm sorry.
You're a puppy
That's been kicked into a wolf.
I want to house-train you.
But wolves don't play fetch very well.
Stay up late, pushing past exhaustion into perfection of perception.
Understanding of self is essential for this existential extollment.
Extollment? I meant extinguishment. Can't convey if I'm projecting.
Stream of conciousness leads to extreme unconciousness.
Writing without pushing, thinking, or stopping. Only feeling.
Or am I knowing more than I'm feeling? Do I even know what I feel?
No knowing noes the feeling of thoughts fought back, you know.
I don't know if noing frees the feelings pushed back from focused thought.
Was that even a sentence? Know!
Do freed thoughts flee? Where to? How so? What then?
Can't write- words won't come.
Why did I leave? Why can't I go?
Can't quit- brain won't stop.
I gave it up. I fucked it up.
Just leave- go away now.
It was too good. Just wasn't too real.
Don't know- can't describe it.
Just a feeling. It hurts so good.
Like pins- sharp, tiny ones.
Poking here, there. Pricking everywhere.
Brain racing, wors falling (or is it flowing?). Fucking.
Hand writing (righting?) the wrongs I've made.
Pen (pin?) scratching words on flesh that doesn't seem to feel.
Dog scratching (stretching?) after fleeing (fleaing?).
I don't know (care?) where it (I?) went wrong.
We loved (love?) each other.
We moved away (apart?) but not on.
When will (can?) it end?
It won't. It won't. It won't.
This doesn't end, this love (lust? loss?) we share.
We lay (lie?) alone together, apart together, in sin together.
In awe together.
Do you think (obsess?) about me?
This love is real (real?)
Look down this street
With only a handful of houses
And my eyes land on 2880
It's a weird number considering
There aren't that many feet
On the street. Oh how my
Feet loved that street.
But weird is apt; we had
A weird love like a praying mantis.
Only I'm unsure who fed on whom.
We fed each other.
With lies and love we gorged ourselves
And then came back for more.
I ate you every night,
But never really got full.
Parasite or symbiote: it's a fine line.
Fine was good for a while
Like ramen in college
You got me through.
Your dogs were my dessert
And I spooned you all the
Sweetness I could muster.
But it was still under-saturated
I'm sure. 2880 made me
Mrs. Child feeding you my love.
But we both share dissordered eating.
Wanting more than we'll take or give
A car ride with only a hand held.
I guess going back for seconds was a bad idea
But I really loved the buffet.
You're moving on, and staying put when
I can't stand still except to sit
Outside 2880 is where I tell myself
I'll quit going back for more.
Guilty glutton; it's what I am.
I don't know when to stop.
I can't forget 2880.
I don't know how to end
Anything that I begin
Turns into a run-on when I run in.
Cold turkey is the way to go
Grandma did it, but she had more
To lose more to love and less
Time to love it.
I was broken before 2880,
And managed to fix myself
While breaking your house
That I love. It's how
I do: break when enter.
Small bites are easier to swallow.
We talk so much about
Who we’ll lose it to or
How it’s going to happen and
We pretend to really care.
But in the end it’s just some
Thing we’ve lost to some
One we’ll lose, too.
He’ll take your trust in men,
She’ll make you see they Really aren’t so bad after
All. The things we let people do.
Do I wish we had
Not done it that way that
Maybe things should have
It’s not like I wanted it
To be all planned out.
And when it happened
With him I couldn’t
Have been any happier could I?
After all, we all lose
People or things or ideals
Or trust. That we can never
Give back again.
So what makes this one thing
So important? So big to give
It up to someone we’ll lose
When we know we’ll lose
It all anyway?