Only few miles apart,
Its been a couple days,
Since I have seen your face,
All I can do is imagine it,.
I miss you to where my stomach hurts,
My heart skips a beat whenever I see a car like yours drive past,
Thinking constantly about your embrace,
The way you kiss my face,
You always tell me I am beautiful,
You say i'm your angel,
I miss your voice,
I miss gazing into your eyes,
Deep and blue,
My eyes are brown,
Not as perfect as yours but they see you so clearly,
I feel home sick even though i'm under the roof of where I live,
I am at complete comfort when you cuddle up to me,
I love the way you look at me,
You touch me so sensitively,
Almost as if you're afraid I will break,
Although you say my heart is strong,
I gave it to you,
Which is why it is that way,
You held it together with care and love,
I feel sick without you.
you're not gonna bother to think
before you pour another drink
so go ahead and mix it up
until you feel like you're pretty enough
calm the thoughts that race through your mind
dancing around under lights that blind
looking for someone to hold you near
they'll whisper whatever you want to hear
determined the world will drive you insane
you can't stand to feel the pain
so here we go, you're gonna drink
bottles empty fast
trying to outrun the past
let go of the life that chains you down
baby you'll never leave this town
can't get one foot in front of the other
statistics, are you just another?
you have this plan every day
that you're not gonna let it slip away
that you'll fight whatever's worth fighting for
and you won't do this, drink anymore
and you feel like you're thinking clearer
until you look inside the mirror
feel the weights heavy like chains
and you know what will ease the pains
of life, of living
tired of giving
and it's so easy to fall
when you've lost it all
and the bottle knows your name
i just want some sort of sign from you
that you want me to still love you
in two years.
i will sit here and wait for you to come home to me,
i will wait two long fucking years.
if you wanted me to.
i swear i would;
if you could only swear that you would forgive me
for the hearts that i will have broken while you were away
and i would kiss you
mind and your
for being so understanding
my hair has stopped falling out
and it feels thicker
i want to shave it all off in the bathroom
(with the same razor i used to drag across this wrist)
and put it in a wooden box, and send it to you.
it would just be yours to keep
(sometimes, when i am feeling insane
i take a box cutter at work
and cut my fingertips, just a little bit.
or i take the blood that naturally flows from between my legs
and smear it on the walls of the shower
and on my legs and arms
i lay down under the stream of water
in the same shower where you once made love to me
i let it cover me
and i cry
i cry out for you)
and then maybe months later, i would buy a plane ticket to see you
and it would make you so angry
(because you told me to leave you alone.
you told me to leave you alone
and then you kissed me
and you told me you loved me.
you just don't want to talk to me anymore.
i'm trying so hard to figure out where your words and your actions match up.)
you would of course just send me home
and the plane might crash down
and in death i would be happy
that you might finally care about me
i wish i could explain to you,
how much i love you.
and how fucked up i am without you here.
and how strong i am without you.
but how weak i feel
and how i want to scream until you hear my voice, miles and miles away
and i cough up blood
and lose my voice
you hear it
and you get in your car,
and you drive into the sunset
and you see the city skyline
just a few minutes from my house
but don't even bother to call
you sit on the side of the road
staring at the cars driving by
concentrating on this decision
then, turn around and drive the two hours back home
didn't even bother to tell me you were here
and i can't even think about our home
the bed we slept in together
because in that little town
in that little room
you were the only thing that made any fucking sense,
and i am a mess now
and so is this p
I’ve been cured of my passion, my drive, my power.
Where has my sickness gone?
The push behind my brain, the pressure upon my artistic uvula has been relieved.
I threw up words, stanzas, poems.
I barfed- poetic-vomit.
I was content, fulfilled- or rather- emptied.
The bug has flown from its host; my well has run dry
I don't wish to be cured
I want to vomit, puke, barf- more lyrics than ever before.
The world is in need of sick poets, deathly ill individuals.
What sick vaccine is eradicating our precious uncommon cold?
A cleansed world is one without expression, without freedom, and without the most beautiful and necessary illness we fondly christen as: Poetry.
I'm not yankin' your chain, pullin’ the wool over your eyes, or any of that shit.
This is the job man.
Fly a plane, build a bridge, climb a mountain- do it man. Don't limit yourself.
Unless you’re not that adventurous guy, I mean, that's cool. No inner drive to be outgoing: That's cool, that's cool, I get it, stay with us… work at the Laundromat. There are so many benefits to a Laundromat. Good… well decent money. Not much real work, we operate machines, so whatever really. But the chillest part is, we get to see the creepy stains people have on their clothing... and have a good laugh behind their backs.
These stains tell stories.
Pilots are sweaty under their arms. This tells me they are confined, cramped, caged, we are free in our own little Laundromat world.
Bridge builders have industrial stains; no regular old machine will get those out. We are chillin’ working for the same pay they are at a quarter of the effort. Hikers are even worse. They are soaked head-to-toe in sweat for a view from a postcard- idiots.
It may not be as stimulating as flying a plane; as as helpful as building a bridge; as monumental as hiking a mountain; but it’s the superiorly important.
We are doing the world a huge service. Without us, there would be no uniforms for pilots, no clothes for the bridge builder, and no hiking gear for the mountain man.
Buck up, life could be worse, you could be a more useless guy with creepy stains who flies a plane- builds a bridge- or hikes a mountain and then overpays us at the Laundromat to clean his clothes.
becomes a slipping memory
I forget the ways my joints used to move
to put pen to paper
and let loose my imagination
my unknown longings
I am lacking
but I've lost the ability to find out how
investing in passion
losing sight of my drive
everything that leaks out of my mind
let me be
Emotions are nonexistent until pungency takes over with a kiss to the existence.
And with the hardness comes inevitable suicide by revelation.
Out of body and out of mind,
The passion that anger brings fuels the drive to escape them both.
It manifests itself in tears with the heat and tensions rising,
But unleashing steam is all we know how to do.
Even the most courageous never seem to utilize passion to unleash the flames in their chests-
Like being confined to yourself to never become the fugitive you so desire.
It won't leave you when you cease to exist.
You can't escape anything.
Not the paroxysm.
Five more days.
Dear god what do I want?
I think I want money,
bundles of it,
to buy you a plane ticket,
so you can come home.
Or maybe I want
Like keys to the truck,
so I can drive to you,
and take you home
I think generally
I know what I want.
I just you want home.
But that's in more
than five days;
Happy birthday to me.
You used to let me roll in the front with you.
With the windows down low.
Music and our favorite shades on.
You would ask me all these questions and id be so annoyed to answer them.
I would help you plant flowers in the backyard and I used to hate it.
There were way too many bugs in the dirt anyways.
We would go and play the lottery together and I remember I won a couple of bucks.
You asked me if I wanted to go collect the money.
I said no because if im going to win, im going to win big.
I got my poetry published and you bought the books.
You made me sign the book and I felt so famous.
You used to sit me on your lap and you used to play this game on my back.
It was relaxing and soothing.
We would cook together and I would bake you sweets.
You used to drive me to my orthodontist appointments and you were so amazed of my braces.
One night I got called in and mommy told me you had cancer.
She held me in my arms and we cried together.
We took a long nap and I felt like shit after.
I tried to see you as much as I could but every time I saw you I would step out and cry in my moms arms.
Then they announced your death.
I swear I died too.
The dissonant chords spill down my spine
the ominous sound of winter wind
as the metronome ticks back and forth
You are all at once darkness and light
the sin of silence
as your hands pound against my keys
Did I feel you touch me?
I can smell the salt of your skin
on my fingertips to remind me
Fasten my dress
and drive me through winding roads
tell me your dreams
as I trace your palm
the lines that intersect with mine...