Underneath pale spring skies
to everyone's surprise
'The Wanderers' returned telling tales of omnipotence
and the relevance of a divinity
I heard nothing
I was deafened by the noise from the laughter of the girls and boys so filled with glee
that 'The Wanderers' had seen fit to see
to find their way and come home to be
with them and you and me.
I don't know where they went or how they spent those,
lonely days when I would gaze with fear set solid in my heart
and wonder how it is that being apart
is so painful.
Fearful now
I keep my eye on those that take it in their mind to fly away.
But what is day without the night
and night without the dawn?
Storms may come and go but this is what I know
'The Wanderers'
will always be the hope and the guardians set by the gate
of those who wait
for liberty.

He and I are different you see

He has a spare tire around his belly
And mine is soft and riddled with freckles

He’s got a part him ravaged by cancer
And I’m tainted with signs of depression

His forehead is bigger and smattered with speckles
Mine is pale and hidden with frazzles of blonde hair

He thinks economically and can be a bit assuming
I think way too much and yet am ridiculously oblivious

But he and I are the same you see

Despite the factors in between us
We’re forever linked by kin
And I am forever grateful

Most mornings,
I can still feel your memories crawling,
like ants,
up and over the creases in my skin,
collecting my scars like leaves.
Sometimes I can feel the strongest burrowing,
until I can feel them gnawing on the surface
of that soft grey thing we call a brain.
until I can't remember the order
of those strange sounds we call our names.

So you see,
it wan't my fault—
when you asked me the time I told you I loved you.
I was never any good at writing love poems, darling—
in the same way I was never any good at loving the right things.
Like a kid with 26 cavities loves candy,
each time you bit my neck I fell in love with the bruises.
Sometimes I still press my fingers against my collarbones
trying to re-create  your violet imprints.

Say my name one more time.
It always sounded scarlet on your tongue.
Cast your fishhook words at my shins—
until I  can feel the syllables sinking through my skin—
until I can feel myself limping forward again.

These days—
they call me unstable,
like a half-brokes table.
And I keep trying to slip things
under the too-short leg
but nothing seems to hold me up anymore.
It's been 7 months and I still shake each times someone tries to lean on me—
I used to be someone people could lean on.

Summer is coming fast and i'm still to faded from the winter to greet it with open arms.
I've fallen in love with the cold and I'm not ready for the too-bright sun
to kiss burns on my pale shoulders.
I miss the overcast days too,
like us,
uncomfortably blue.
I used to believe you loved me too—
It's 6:26 am and I'm still thinking of you.

Perhaps they expect a pool
offerings of rare coffee
from Ethiopia

Instead of
a view of hydrangea
plus pale ale in mugs

Conversation entails
irrelevant niceties
of trivial events

Smiles exchanged
chairs rearranged
subtlety reigns

Another chance
to touch humanity
willfully aborted

the faces of everyone I know turn gray as they push themselves further and further inside
pointing in every direction
uniformity
i shouldn't need so much alcohol for this
at least not god
trying to defy gravity by turning myself inside out
just floating across the raindrops from under your gray expressions

why would you stop beating?
vibrating?
why would you stop sweating whenever you love someone?
why would you try to lift something that shouldn't be lifted?
why would you fear what's intangible?
why would you stop throwing yourself in the stench of the town's hollow eyes?
why won't you fall when you should stay upfront?
why would you push yourself away?
why would you calculate fear? especially when it's so beautiful? even if it's unreal?
why would you turn pale? so you could just say fuck you!?
so you could join the grey faces?
so you could think that there's a difference between what you feel and what others love?
so that you could just stop shouting from the top of your lungs until your heart would tear apart into hundreds of thousands of gods of your own?
so you could see only for a moment and then be blinded by your own reflection?
so then join the group so others can take your place
even if it's useless
even if it's horrible
even if it's just your lungs giving us everything we need
sometimes
even if it's just carelessness
on their part
even if they're imperfect
even if you're perfect
even if it counts
even if it could actually mean something
even if it will kill you in the end?
will you please stop now?
just stop sitting with your head pushed so hard against yourself that you turn into a mosaic of the town
stop making bridges out of yourself
stop reinventing everyone's love stories and
stop living your parents' lives
stop thinking that they love you because they do
stop painting flowers on every broken window
and stop harming what isn't there

even if you want it to

I have no idea why I come to this bar every night.
But I just do.
I just leave it feeling jet blue with the weight of the wanders of the world crushing down on my shoulders.
And I leave with questions and grief for anyone I see there.

Of pity for the girl behind the counter who isn’t very pretty.
She’s washed up on the wrong side of the great Mississippi.
Now she’s working shitty shifts and pulling pints filled with misery for the bums of the city.

Of shame for the alcoholic with his alcohol frozen brain.
Standing by the bar eying up his drink before he chooses where to take his aim.
But it’s his own fault he got dragged into this whole addiction game.

Of humiliation for the boy in the couple corner alone with his head filled with that question he shouldn’t have asked her.
At least he now knows his place for it finally been confirmed.
And so it’s time for him to forget it by sucking up his bottle of Estonian liqueur.

Of frustration for the poor taxi driver who picks up drunks stumbling up to his car under the influence of the pale moonlight every single night.
I ask him if he’s been busy even though I know he has been asked this by everyone he has picked up tonight.
Despite this he answers me just to be polite.

Of eternal embarrassment for my own self when my face hits the pillow and I ask what I’m doing with life.
Why I’ve went to that hellish bar another evening to get drunk off my face and spend all my of savings and come home alone to go to bed and cry again.
Worst of all is I know tomorrow it will be a repeat, like the next day and all days after that.

I have no idea why I come to this bar every night. But I just do.

That day I had to kick in your door cause you wouldn't answer
To get you back I would infect my self with cancer
That day still taunts me, it will forever haunt me

The needle still in your arm, face pale, lips blue
Would bleed to keep the other out of harm
best friends since we were 2
Unfortunately the end came too soon for you

The incision will always be in my heart
I know it wasn't your decision to part

You loved your life way too much
To give it up for a high or simple rush

Sadly you were taken and lost your life
We knew the risks of getting into bed with a knife
Sooner or later one of us would get sliced

I hope I get to see you when it's my time to ascend
I love you, I miss you, you'll forever be my best friend

R.I.P   J.D.H                  - J.A.M

I remember the way your body looked in the sun.
droplets of water like a gown of crystal, shattering light
as you were carried by.
Your eyes were closed, but your pale skin still fooled me
into thinking that underneath still beat your hot core.

We breathed sea air in the easy summer days.
I told you about the dreams I had - caved in darkness,
grasping for light -and you laughed me away.
You and I danced for the sun in the shadow of mountains,
calling forth ancient, beating rhythms.
But those days are water under the oars.

On a pale winter's moon
    when all do sleep
    the birds come out

Dark night to greet
   then they climb
   with gentle feet

On top of trees,
   wing and beak

lungs to fill
  with precious air
  voices blare
  without despair

With all their might
   the lonely birds
   that sings at night