the spiders came,
and the blue and gold walls painted over.

I lost some weight,
I was asked about it at your wake,
but I felt like
I was
sleeping.

Cold he was,
and quickly he left
So I turned to cold cans of soup in the pantry.

Cold cans of soup
and
patting my dog

That was about it.

And sometimes the central heating would disturb the silence
and sometimes it would make me feel sick to my stomach

But I know one thing,
and that's
that
Happiness in suburban houses never lasts.

Sunshine, summer, parents, first loves

They are fantasies thought up in the grass.


I love you, he murmured
Why did she die? I pleaded.
The air was warm
like summer
but we lay in the dark.

When she was 5
She drew a picture with the colors of the rainbow
It made everyone happy
Her teacher gave her a "star"
Her parents gave her a kiss
And tucked her in, warm and snug
Dreaming of fairies and princesses

When she was 15
She took a picture where everything was black and blue
It made everyone uncomfortable
Her teacher took her to the counselor
Her parents gave her punishment
She tucked herself in bed, with bruises and welts
And waited for the horrible nightmares to begin

When she was 25
She painted a scene where everything was gray and bleak
She didn't show it to anyone
But continued to see the counselor
Her boyfriend continued to beat her
She passed out in the living room, knocked out cold
With no dreams, nor nightmares to spare

Now she's 35
She wrote some words in red
Hoping for someone to finally see
She didn't visit the counselor, didn't take her medications
Life finally beat out all the fight in her
She saw herself covered in a sea of crimson
Warm fluid running down her wrists
Her vision began to blur
As she welcomes this final sleep

Most times I find myself lost
Lost in times, places,
Held captive in my thoughts
It's ok it's ok it's ok
The grass helps me forget
As I lay absorbed in its warmth.
There is smoke in the distance,
Or is it right next to me?
I don't know anymore

Nor do I care
I just let myself go off most times
I love to go off most times,
As much as I loved my family
Who stood by my side 'til their end.

My dear sister was quite the artist
Quite the artist indeed
She had this distinct flight in her work,
Or was it flow?
I'm getting lost again.
These colors they did cling to each other
As if they've known each other since long ago.
I would get lost in these paintings
And would remember the times I saw these colors,
Like the blue in the bay
Protected by the army,
Like the brown windmill
That I climbed with my best friend,
Damn I forgot he was there with me,
Like the yellow in my dog's eyes
When she and I saw a man burn to death.
It's too bad Auntie hid those paintings
Beyond the basement.

My father died in the Korean War,
Oh captain, my captain
You failed to return
But don't fret
I raised my flag for you this morning
And every morning,
Waiting for your safe return.

You had dark eyes, right?
Yes, you had to have dark eyes
Only dark men have dark eyes, but
You did it for a good cause dear father
And for your country you swam on that iron boat
And died just like your sweet daughter:
Hanging yourself because you could not find success with your art.
Wait, that's not right.
Your art was success, Sun Tzu would be proud
Of your noble smooth sacrifice,
All the while taking on the pitter-patter of rain.

My mother died just now,
Yeah just now in front of my eyes.
It's weird to see her like this
All old, cold, and stiff.
Maybe she's nervous, don't know why
She's going to a good place.
Might just be the rigor mortis kicking in,
My mother was always a speedy one
Never skipping a beat
Or strum
Or note.
Funny for her to be sitting
Directing phone calls
Which would end up being lost anyway
Because no one knew how to talk back then,
Not after the Korean War.

There was one song my mom would sing,
Not sing actually just hum
I don't know what song it was
I believed she made it up,
Which was so brilliant.
Sometimes I would close my eyes
(Like I'm doing right now)
And insert words into my mother's song.
I would sing things like:
How long are you gonna let it rain
Shifting through the tides of pain
You lost yourself for good this time
Dear boy you got yourself a rhyme.
That's what music sounded like to me back then,
Hell it still does.
Guess that means I'm still lost then, huh?

She is now waiting
at my front door,
I hear her laughter echoing
I want more….
She slivers through the door
as she slowly moves,
she's guided by the stench
of poisonous booze..

She has a pressed on an ego...
un....like mine,
her words a scapel,
cutting deep into my spine.
She cries dry tears
into her liquor,
any twinge of conscience
grows
thin not thicker.

I trip and I fumble
it seems everyday,
as I try to keep her
from my heart's pathway.
I dream of something more
but I'm led astray,
but soon I'll leave this hell
and have my say.

I can't climb out
of this blaze she's built,
her fiery waves
attempt to hide her guilt.
She laughs as she watches
me incinerate
with double crossed fingers
she thinks she's sealed my fate.

My direction now,
is flustered orange and blue,
thoughts that my mind
simply can't filter through.
I see the fiction
in her diverting eyes,
as she runs her hands
down her tempting thighs.

I dream upon dream
of something more,
full of grace and beauty
a pleasure to adore.

But for now she will suffer
I won't care at all,
She will follow my plan,
one marked for
her fall.

I am twenty years old
I have never been in love
I have had my fair attractions
As for true love I have not
I imagine her though
Beautiful too me
I'm not quite sure her name though
Nor have I ever seen her before yet she welcomes me in my dreams
I think if I were to be in love
I'd like to be at the start
The start of something new
Something so pure
As pure as the bright blue sky
With the sun shining bright
Yeah I think that's love
Waking up next to her and seeing something like the sun
Don't get me wrong there are cloudy days
There will be raging storms
I guess in the end I'd like to be at the start
The start of a sunny day
I guess I'd like to be in love

There was a crack.
Not a mighty one. no, it wasn't even loud.
And if inside foundations moved?
without, appeared stout.
held up with the iron bars. too proud.
I see the roads before me,
which suddenly fill, my brocken will,
and rubble brushed lightly on pavement,
and hazey land, burnt still.
The sun is burning my hands, burning I say.
To the north there is fire,
sepulchures to the west, I kneel to pray,
East is dust. South has rusted red. I am on a wire,
painted gold. Crouched, I drink sand,
burning like fire, fire to taste nothing.
Too many dreams of wine and sugary honey,
I'm spent, choke on demure beauty.
My hands' flesh melt off in ripples,
dripping down my arms, and please,
with ease, I run into a coma, untruthfully,
bold and blue, choking on truth,
slipping down my lungs, cold bile fed
from a crocker, chipped resign,
take me home, I cry.

But I was never home. My home had died.

Trip. And swollen feet? Sprung loose,
the fidllers harp plays naught,
A truce, fate, please, allow me loose fate.
I pray escape, but I could never choose late.

With no hands I can not lament,
my feet rooted in soil unfit to grow,
and I am. not. I will go,
where rain falls constantly.
I will go to drown and burn in equil measure,
dreaming, with slitted eyes,
the earthquake shattering the sun inside,
shoulders square, jaw set, I hide,
while stepping forward,
I'm tied.

/my home has died.