This is the place where he lay his head,
When he went to bed at night,
And this is the place our demons were derived
Candles lit the room at night.
this is the place where he cut his wrists
That odd and fateful night.
This is the place where we used to live,
I paid for it with love and blood,
And these are the boxes that he kept on the shelf,
Filled with his poetry and stuff.
this is the room where he took the razor,
And cut his wrists that strange and fateful night.
I never would have started if I'd known
That it'd end this way.
His body didn't last forever,
It decomposed with time.
But the memories I'll always treasure,
Will last me until the day that I die.
Dates no longer carry your shadow.
I awoke in a panic this morning,
Thinking of how easily the day went by.
I didn't even cringe,
But this morning I awoke with the faint taste of our ashes burning in my throat.
Your name was a linger.
This morning I remembered I had forgotten,
And the feeling was weightless.
Sat on a log of a broken tree
gazing the calm flow of the river
with the peeking Sun light
on the flowing rusty leaves
recalling the times spent,
fights fought, kisses she kissed,
with her half opened dreamy eyes.
I was not dead, Yet never alive.
Atleast not on the present.
My thoughts, that none cared.
Meaningless words to all, Yet
she was the all for me.
Now I sit, staring on the stream,
in solitude with my lost self,
with a vision of someone,
rubbing my fingerprints off of her.
Departure lounge. Crown of tears
probably dried upon my father’s shoulder.
One year before I touch down again.
Everyone will expect some change.
Tried to swallow consciousness on the Bangkok streets.
Too much heat. There is no familiar face –
I cannot even read the road-signs.
There is no culture shock:
I had lived with that my entire life.
Made friends with the strays
for we had a common place.
Caught in no man’s land:
a need for hunger,
some awful drive to be free.
Left Bangkok for the coast.
New faces to hear old stories.
Born new, kissed each night on the mouth,
shared a hotel room for the month;
relinquished every memory
in a flood of beer,
old tears, the reservoir
to cleanse ourselves of doubt.
Dictated each depression
to a room full of strangers
until I could frame every disgrace,
put them to bed
until I slept full and new.
Fell in love with a singer,
red hair and a voice
that climbed a ladder to heaven.
Bid farewell in a country of mourning,
wore black until I found colour again.
Descended each rung
until I found that rock bottom
was still much higher
than where I had come from.
Wrote poetry and songs
nine hours from the foundations
I had built upon.
Black-eyed and clueless,
wrong side of the classroom,
I tried to teach a foreign tongue
in a place where I knew nothing
and no one. Far from every addiction
that once anchored me in place,
I shaved my face, pressed my shirt,
made amends for every cigarette end
that once painted the frame
of all I had amounted,
all I had done.
Fell in love with a town,
a pink sunset, stretch of rice-farms
and apple trees that patterned the view
of all I could see.
Still broken, still maladjusted,
still craving those twisted words.
Take my motorbike off into the drumlins
each time that I fear the worst.
Still broken, still singing
a song I cannot sing,
yet each muffled string,
each half-worn verse
is a half-formed reason
the melody I gather
each fateful, live-long day,
I cry out for meaning
before it fades away.
This inner city district once thrived on coal
now vanished through time into a deep hole
unrecognisable and riddled with crime
my memories of childhood frozen in time
I wish it was like when I was young
remembering faces, hearing songs sung
bustling shops where community would prevail
deserted now with cheap houses for sale
Landlords exploiting new arrivals plight
my once streets of play gone, nothing seems right
sinister figures in shadows selling their wares
watchful and guarded, even dogs walk in pairs
Be careful with cherished childhood thoughts of play
frozen memories could thaw and melt away
rose tinted worlds should never be explored
a boat to be cared for, but always moored
The voices in my head are getting so loud. They want me to jump off the fucking building or electrocute myself or shoot myself or jump in front of a car. They are thoughts of you and memories which I can't live without. Memories I don't want to live without but I only want these memories if I have you. Long distance is hard, it kills and you fight a lot but when you love, you love a lot more. I saw pictures of you with other men (men not man) and you already know how I feel about that. You already know I hate that. Those fucking pictures make me bitter about you but my heart, oh my heart just wants to embrace you and love you. I remember how you sat me down and promised that this will never happen again and it did. I remember how you called me one night and promised me that wont happen but that did too. You broke your promise, your commitment and my trust too. Speaking of that picture again (I just can't get it out of my head), you had said the night before that you will only hang out with your girlfriends and you'll keep your distance from those boys but well you couldn't keep that word either and then you didn't even tell me about how you sat with that boy (whose name rhymes with cheese) and watched the concert at the beach while I was unaware, missing you because I had a surprise news for you. I never gave you that news and I guess you will never know now that you aren't here. I never asked for too much. Just the simple stuff and that was my right too and you know I was right too. Just asked for you to not expose your curves, to stay simple, to not get pictures like that (the one mentioned above, still can't get over it), not to be in a situation that leads to pictures like that & to not break your promises. Tell me was that too much. You said I was insecure and maybe I sound like it too and maybe to some extent I am insecure because I didn't want to lose you and I couldn't bare see your name or you besides another man, but was that too much to ask for. Because that was all I asked for. Can someone please hit my head with a baseball bat and make me forget everything including my name or who I am. Because I want all this to end. Oh I want all this to end. And I know you will be back again like every time but you will continue on this path of broken promises and false commitments mixed with your fucking lies. Hope. Hope though is a bitch that makes you believe it won't (or will) happen when you know that it will. And I know it will.
Home is hanging with a few close friends
It's always spending time with family if not now and then
It's laughter, and hugging, and yes even tears
It's someone beside you as you're facing your fears
It's "good morning" and "what's for dinner?"
"I'll see you later", and "is there anything good to eat?"
It's not about where you lay your head to sleep.
Home is about the memories and the moments you hold dear
Talking about your long day with mom and dad
Or having a shoulder to cry on when your sad.
It's movie nights and nerf gun fights even when your "too old".
It's snow forts in the winter and couch forts when it rains.
It's being surrounded with love when your world seems full of pain.
Home is Christmas cookies, ice cream, and making apple cake,
And spending time with Grandma, learning how to bake.
It's a bro's night out at the movies, or breakfast in bed on Mother's Day
And it's dancing to the music in that particularly peculiar way.
It's beanie babies, teddy bears, and memories so sweet,
Basketball, and baseball gloves, and sometimes muddy cleats.
It's sewing fingers, broken fingers, and shutting them in doors,
Broken toes, and scooter falls, and hospital trips galore.
It's talking all night with your brothers, and driving together to school
And making fun of brace face whenever he would drool.
Home is not a building not confined to just one place
It's more a state of mind, a memory encased.
Family are the friends you're born with and friends the family you choose
Home is being with either for in neither case you'll lose.
They say home is where the heart is, so I've split my heart in three
One for family, one for friends, and one to keep with me
For life is full of travels, sights I have yet to see
Yet no matter where I'm headed, home is where I'll be.
1/13/17 1:00 am
The stars are shining on the lake and
Your eyes are glistening along with them;
The first night I knew I loved you,
Where our story truly began.
In your eyes I can see all the memories,
Every adventure we've conquered together
Since that night on the lakes.
Each day brings something new to us.
We've worked together to get to where we are,
To experience what we have,
A million moments better captured in photos than words.
When you laugh, I can't help but smile, knowing
That your laughter will make every moment even better.
I cannot wait to see everything life has in store for us,
And to continue making our memories.
I cannot imagine this life without you;
Thank you for being my adventure.
The first time I said his name, he asked me how I knew him.
I was thrown. I knew him and I knew Kim.
What we've been through -
Your family and I;
I often lay awake at night and toss and turn and sigh.
I felt like taking his head in my hands and saying
"Your brother - he was mine."
But I didn't.
He lives in the house next to my parents.
And knew me until I left. Bereft.
Then he sees me now -
and acts as if he doesn't know me.
Like he hasn't held my hand or cried,
Well that's what's really thrown me.
The tree in your garden. It's planted for him.
With me at the window, watching tiny you and Kim.
We used to sit in that garden, late into the night.
Until everyone was gone, left with nothing but starlight.
Oh, what we've been through -
Your family and I;
To this day I lay in bed and sometimes have a cry.
So I was thrown, to the bone, and feeling so small...
When I realised that in your mind,
- I didn't exist at all.