We're just connecting the dots of past encounters,
hanging on to what you know
and what's become far too familiar over time.
We include one another in our stagnancy and time may as well stand still.
We're all servants to a master bent on our destruction,
we bow our heads and say "jump how high?"
This isn't a right, it's a responsibility.
I'm just a sheep, but I've got a little fight in me.
A tired dog, but I've still got some bite in me.
So here's to the degradation of the pride we'd built
Do they only stand by ignorance? Is that their happy state,
The proof of their obedience and their faith?
I swear to God this is a comedy.
The cruelest joke I've never told,
but in my head, it never gets old.
We allow the crimes against ourselves,
so how can we complain?
We're the source of our own pain, so even though
I've found a place to rest my head,
I still can't sleep.
I still can't sleep at night.
The delusions are setting in,
but I still can't sleep at night.
No dreams will come, I lay and weep
I still can't sleep, I still can't sleep...
Take a deep breath inventory
Do not count your hands or feet
Not your wandering legs or
Do not take inventory of your clothes
Not of your favorite shoes or
Your special hat—not even your
Coat that you save for those cold,
Ignore your car—payments or paid off
Your home—apartment, trailer, mansion
Your work uniform—whatever that may be
Make emergency stops only
You are still several miles from
The intersection of contentment and identity
And you have not been there
In far too long
Do not take inventory of how you look
In a summer dress or a tuxedo and bowtie
Don’t count your history with
Drugs and alcohol
Don’t count your computer, your television
Or that collection of movies
Or books that you’ve been working on
Don’t take account of your ability to curl
It’s just curling dead weight
Don’t count the number of visible abs
Or your BMI
You are so much more than a body
You are so much more than possessions
Your body and belongings have not
Done you well to feel like you belong
Instead take inventory of your joy
You have some joy don’t you?
Count your friends
Count your love letters
Count the moments when it rains
And you have an umbrella
Count the last time you had strawberries
Count the start of every kiss
Count the paid off credit cards
Actually, count those twice
Because freedom counts for twice as much
Account for all of your freedoms
Take inventory of playing catch with your dad
Your last home-cooked meal
Account for the last time you rode a bike
When you didn’t think about exercise, you just felt the wind
Count the times you wrapped birthday presents
Count the smell of the last bouquet of flowers you were given
Count the last time you went to the zoo
And you swore, nobody ever fell in love with the
Animals quite like you did
Cause you have an eye for beauty
And you’re seeing it everywhere
Take a deep breath inventory of the beauty you have seen
And when you can’t seem to find anything that matters
To take inventory of
Count those dark moments where you still
Have the hope to rack your brain
To try to find a memory where you had joy
If you still have hope to try to find it
That is joyful
All on its own
Because I know they can be hard to find sometimes
Those things worth taking inventory of
But I have found the greatest of these things is love
Not the way I love Pulp Fiction and Casablanca
But the way I love my wife
And my father and my mother
And a good rescue
Cause that is what I’ve had—a good rescue
And life is sweet like honey
Not because it’s easy
And certainly not because I feel good all the time
But because I have found joy in a rescued life that I can hope in
When I take a deep breath inventory
I have to realize all I have is love
The rest will go away someday
But not my hope and joy and love
i just walked away,
my journeys astray,
dreams - the ash in the ashtray,
but i had not seen them all,
it was not time yet for them to fall,
but we just let them,
and let no more stem.
i loved watching you,
you loved reading me,
now i can feel it, so real,
how it really felt, our bodies,
clung to each other,
i still smell you,
from so far apart,
i hear our skin on each other,
i want to dream of it,
feel it all again,
but i cannot sleep,
but lucky you, you can,
you have for a long time been.
To see the end of time
Like Paris in my mind
I return to the beginning of my journey
When youth was fresh like a dew drop on a flower
My tears say it all.
I don't wanna remember those three terrible nights
It was a time when I never even knew the time
There were a lot of people, but two stood out the most
They didn't realize it, but the traumatized me
They wouldn't leave me alone
They wanted "hugs"
They said they loved me, but it was clear
No sign of affection was ever there
I don't wanna remember my messed up mind
13 months in treatment made my mind right
I will never forget those 3 terrible nights
Sitting there unknowing when they were coming
All that mattered to them was the "hugs" and the drugs
The morning started with a shower
Arms braced against the wall in a kind of supplication
Pushing hard so damn hard you want to fall
You let the water wash your dreams and pain away
The morning started with you leaving
Saying I'm so nice as you walk out the door
I know your tired cause we didn't sleep
I remember your whispered promises that were quickly disposed of
The morning started with you lying next to me
While I played Rilo Kiley
So close I could touch you but I could tell you didn't want to be touched
"Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can’t move
Awake but cannot open my eyes
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs
I know I can’t breathe
And I hope someone will help me this time..."
I played it in a moment of honesty
My one true expression as I watched the distance grow between us
I wanted to fuck you again cause I hoped it would mean something
Thank you for teaching me that the third time is the charm and the fourth is for sleeping not fucking
It's hard to find this kind of rejection early in the morning. Thanks for staying open late to accommodate me.
The morning started with me laughing at you when you said where's the underwear?
Writers can laugh at painful parallels and prophesy true unintentionally but not uneventfully
It doesn't help me not want to fuck you again
So we fuck again for the third time. The last time.
You kiss less when your not drunk
The morning started with some smoke and water and generic Advil
Proscribed to all the fallen like vitamins
You look good naked
Next to me
I wonder what this morning will bring?
This morning started with me inside you the second time
You made me cum inside you like you wanted something that I had to give
Maybe love maybe pain -you did like to be hurt
You didn't remember that I said I want to hurt you less cause I actually like you
I choked you cause you wanted it more than me
I feel like Kriegers robot arm sometimes
Perhaps we could just affix a cock to the arm and I could be replaced
Go on vacation to the city of lost whore sluts
I hear the buffet there is wonderful
The morning started with me inside you
On the kitchen floor
I threw you up against the wall too hard
You fell down so I took you right there
On the linoluem Under flourecent lights
You were so tight and tender and tough
You fucked me desperately like you hadn't been getting enough
Sorry for banging your head up against the fridge
The morning started with you next to me
Both of us drunk
You kissed me right
Out of the many there are few that do it
It's a weakness for me and dangerous to believe in the power of knowing through a kiss
You dry humped me like a dog on speed
It felt good
That and the kissing
I said no
I wouldn't fuck you
Like I said before
You said it had been to long
That you never did this
I said I needed to wait
That I liked you
I didn't want you to be just a fuck
Not just for you
But for me
Sometimes even seasoned whores need to feel special
I said that I'd fall too quick
You can be very persuasive
The morning started with me on the couch with your friend
We had makers and he had Jameson
He called it neat but it had Ice
I didn't say anything
You told him that you knew me for a long time and that i was gay
In retrospect it probably helped that I talked about color and carpets and paintings and poetry
I tried not laugh as we tried to pass of our little deceptive parody
Sure it was successful but what does it really say about me that he'd believe it
Oh the irony of pretending to be gay to get a girl
The things we do
He left after a long soliloquy on decorating and fashion
I think you might be like me and sometimes confuse the facts of your friends and stories with your dreams
I thought your adept practiced and surreptitious deception was endearing
I wanted to kiss you all night so I was glad he left
After he was gone I told you in the bathroom that I wanted to kiss you all night and you dropped your pants and peed in front me
You looked at me like no big deal and said what I don't care
I really starting liking you then
The morning started at the bar the night before
You sat down and smiled and flirted with me
You told me I would have to wait a year and a half to fuck you
As we drank way too much and both grew more beautiful and gracious with every ounce of liquid forgetfulness
The morning started the night before at your work when I hit on you cause you were laughing and smiling and had a little halo
The morning started like any other morning
With lies and rejection and sweetness and passion and loneliness
If I knew I was going to be used like this
I would have used a condom
Not to just protect against the std's but to protect from intimacy
I hope I won't fail on both counts
A little worried
That's why I write this story
I wrote a poem on a bus
and what used to be us
while driving through downtown Paris
you were back at home
wrapped around her
and your mind
empty of thoughts of me
so I guess
nothing has really changed
I'm still wasting my time pining over you
and you still couldn't care less
despite the miles between us
You, who for some infallible reason, was weeping, said-
"You are lying, and that makes me sad."
"But I never told you a single lie."
As soon as I said that, you started crying once more.
I used to reassure myself,
When the paper airplane that I threw-
Full of my foolish whishes that seemed so beautiful at that time-
that didn't reach the sky, but instead
came back down to my feet-
"It was just too far away.
there was a time when I climbed the side of a radio tower,
repeating desperately to myself that the stars up there were not a myth.
At the top,
overlooking the city,
I tired to reach those lights.
"..I'm just not tall enough."
I think to myself,
my beliefs are just a mirror,
Reflecting my repeating delusions of a perfect world.
But when that mirror,
that sick fantasy,
There is nothing but shards of dust left on your palms.
Did you know?
I am scared of the moon.
because I think, sometimes,
"That could be me, up there."
With no light of my own to shine upon the world, only reflecting what others saw.
The sun's warmth was too brilliant and bright,
my pupils couldn't help but dilute every time I faced it.
I've almost given up on the exuseful theory,
that everything in the world is masked
And that only the gifted,
could unveil that ugly screen,
and see the true façade underneath.
Until I have found a warmth untriumpthed by any other,
until I find a kindness that lets me say-
"Thank you, Thank you, Thank you-"
Over and Over and Over again,
Until I find a feeling that makes me feel like the world,
I'll try to stop making excuses for everything-
and accept the fact
that the world
has its secrets too.
No turning back.
No standing still and no turning back,
You’ve only so much time to go as far as possible.
Ever the mountain that needs to be scaled,
Always, something needs to be done,
Do this and you’ll be happy,
Go there and you’ll be happy,
Only way to do this is to be better,
Because she’d never want you like you used to be.
Long forgotten what level ground looks like,
Only way is up,
There’s still this mountain,
That needs to be scaled,
If they can do it so can you,
Look at them up there,
Looking at you,
Asking who you are to stand where they stand.
Ill find a checkpoint every now and then,
They always tell me they’re the top,
Always tell me I’m done, I can stop walking,
But I know better,
I shan’t stay and comfort the fallen,
By falling myself.
I will climb this mountain,
Find the finish line in the dark,
Ill endure it all,
Time and again,
Safe in the knowledge,
That she’ll love me,
If I get to the top.
counting down the minutes until it is no longer too early to go to bed.
sitting by the phone, considering how desperate is "too desperate."
drinking an entire bottle of wine by yourself and barely getting drunk because it's not the first time it has happened.
wondering if it can ever really be "too early" for bed.