The sun casts two shadows of me down on the pavement
And I could do without either.
Oh what to do when your own novelty wears off,
But leave the clown for the birds.
Some swords have two edges but what does that matter if they're already in your stomach.
I don't believe in God yet,
But I do believe in karma.
So **** the part of me that loves the world
And I promise there'll be hell to pay.

easy on the transmission
she says and
i feel
skin on my hand
i breathe a little

think of your happy place
she says and
i see
waves
and palm trees

where are you
she says and
i say
the beach

you hate the beach
she says and
i nod
in agreement

wishful thinking
keeps me drinking
the cherry wine that costs less than
the wallet i now keep in my front pocket
ever since it was stolen,

fool me once.

i palm my eyes
and rub my craning neck.
sore from keeping watch.
blessed to be cursed i feel at times
as its so hard to write with no perspective.
and if i keep these words in they might **** me some day.

what an honor to be king for a night.
all ive ever yearned,
to see his sword pierce my belly
at rest, at peace.

All things considered
I'm not too big a fan
Of the state I'm in.
Considering I always skip over
The denial part.
I've been at bat for too long
To not know when to take a pitch
Outside
And when to take one in the ribs.

Give me a dollar
And I'll make something of it.
Give me your time
And I'll waste it.

Staring down the red pill and the blue pill.
Trying to decide between nothing and everything.
Making sure the Dread Pirate Roberts doesn't drink his own poison.

There is no hand I would least rather die at
Than my own.

tell your friends you love them today.

a tin sky
my love
dances
around
a garden

my eyes
roll
into
my skull

bakers dozens of country miles
couldn't keep the drug out.
vinyl records and chalkboard elephants
gone with the wind.
with the run of a hand.

we never let the bread rise.
always kneading away,
putting out fires before they start
and missing the drought
in front of you.

the wind rattles my straw house,
so i feed the Wolf
to get some quiet.

I kept the corsage in the fridge,
Which is why it felt so cold to the touch.
I just wanted to keep it alive
Unlike most things I hold.

I don't know CPR
But I do know how to leave well alone.
A white flower glued to a sequence band
Two things so awfully out of place;
Felt painfully familiar to me on that day.

You wore a red dress
Which speaks more
Than any metaphor I could have written.

I read a lot of books.
I should have seen the signs.

I really thought I found her

what a lonely life i live
to let myself drown thirsty.
to feel like god and
not believe in him.
to know love and
lose faith in it.
to be docile.
to be content
with contentment.

what a lie ive lived
my finest performance.
when the sheet does fall
i wont have disappeared.
the trick
is that nothing was really there
to begin with.

it's great to be here.
i always say it's not
and i never feel like it is.
but its great to be here.

everything ive ever loved is here
in the meadow,
swanning for all of us.
singing our names.

i focus so much on the cold
i forget july
i forget august.

its great to be here
its always great to be here.

When you find whatever it is you’re looking for
I hope you’ll remember who helped steer the ship
When your legs were too dull to play captain.

i cant promise you
that god exists.
i dont know it for certain.

but i do find myself
wondering how
i can even see the sky
in the night time.

i dont know if god exists.
or of all the different ones,
which is most true.

sometimes we are so blinded
by uniform
we forget what lies beneath it.

just what i needed
a storm through my room.
my clothes
on different parts of the floor.
it was a mess before you rolled through.

she dances
sober
and smiles when she does it too.
its really a sight to see.

somewhere between
misery and euphoria
i lay my sunken head.

the grass peaks out between her arms and her shoulders.

"lets stay here forever"

"why would we ever do that?"

a congregation for the lonely
is all this place can ever be.
dead hearts and broken people
spending too much on rent,
like an eclipsing sky line
could fill the holes we've dug.

well, everyone lives there.
of course they do
where else would we go?
we come with nothing
so that anything we have
is nailed to the floor.

i don't have enough ram
to process all the ****
i hear sometimes.

i could yell
every secret ive ever heard
from the top
of the cn tower.
and the cars
would keep driving,
id still be afraid of heights,
and she probably
wouldn't care for me
anymore than she already
didn't.

well what's the fun in that then

i can't wait until i fit into these boots.
my ankles sprouting forward, into adulthood.
it never occurred to me
that i might have to buy my daughter a pet
so she can watch it die.
there's nothing scarier in this world
than falling in love with anything you know wont last.
the hardest lessons are the ones
we know we have to teach ourselves.
i dont know how to thank you lord
because i dont know if youre there.

i helped a lady
take her groceries to her house today.
it was the same lady
i watched cross the street
it was the same lady
i didnt hear walk into the corner store behind me.
it was the same lady
i let the door fall onto.
i couldnt hear her.

she ended up ahead of me on the sidewalk.
grocery bags on the pavement.
phone on her ear.
i walked by her.
she apologized
said she was trying to get help.
we walked together.
she told me 'help' was on the patio
drinking a beer.
she asked where i lived
and i said a street over.
she said she hoped she'd see me around.
and i said maybe not, im going home for the summer.

she asked if i was getting out of the rat race
im too young for the rat race.

she thanked me a lot
and said
'some good karma will come your way
im a firm believer in that'

me too
i said.

i walked home and thought
i should write a poem about
that conversation.
about giving a second chance
about being a kind person.
about karma.

usually when something like this happens
i write the minute i get home

but i didnt.

i realized, i dont think i can write
about happy things
because when they happen
they always ferment until
they're not what they were.

it was a quick high
a genuine moment.
if karma is real
and that woman is right
either im the devil himself
or theres a big check
with my name on it.

before i started writing
i googled seasonal depression symptoms

apparently not talking to anyone between the months of february and may every year is still a horse with no name.

how do you **** a love
you made yourself.

i leave this town in a week
and i feel as broken
and confused
as the **** i tried to leave

all i want to do is jump in the river
to see if i can really swim
and figure it out from there.

i had another writing class
above the pharmacy today.
we watched a movie about bank robbers.
and in our discussion our professor said

there is so much evil
in the world
i dont even wish
to understand it.

i dont know if i agree or not
i dont know if thats the right answer.

//

eighties ladies
spray their hair back
wipe the snow
off the mirror.
march on.
glitter and sparkles
can always make
a dead thing look alive.
right?
youth and marriage.
love and wonder.
age like bread
on the windowsill.

there's something
worth loving
in here.

There's a parallel universe where I have abs
And cool hair.
Where I ride the bluest wave Back to shore.
Where I tell people to *******
Because I hit every ball
They ever threw at me.

Instead I give myself a mulligan.
And surf the green waves of the flatline.
And hum the same B flat
Until it sounds like
B

watch me stumble into
something nice.
the sweater i bought
at the thrift store
turned out to be worth
a little more
than the price
i paid.

chalk it up
in the win column
i say as i
slip it on
wondering
praying
dreaming
of whoever wore
it before me.

just hoping they lived
a life
full
of life
and maybe if i
never wash
some life might
rub off on me

i wanted to call this poem

"if this is fate than put a gun in my mouth"

feels a bit excessive
even for me.

and im the most extra ***** ive ever met.

i rarely have **** to say when i write.
ive rewritten the same feeling a thousand times.
i only know so many synonyms for heartbreak
and im running out.

the star of all this angsty literature
is far away for the moment.
across the country.
but ill be home soon
to watch her graduate (im still a kid and so is she)

i went very far away from home for a lot of reasons.
admittedly, she was one of them.
when i met her
she told me she'd never be able to afford to leave.

well good news.

next year she'll be an hour away.

i think i live in a chinese finger trap
or the ******* matrix.
the harder i pull
the faster the walls cave in.
the **** i try and leave behind
gets to where im going before i do.

i believe in love too much to ever **** it.
even if that means i have to watch it die slow in my hands
and listen to it shriek out in pain.

id rather die than give up on love
and from what i remember
thats what we call hamartia.

i could fall in love with a sword through my heart
if it was nice enough to me.
and maybe if she were holding it,
it wouldnt even hurt.

I've been close enough
To see the rocks break
Under me.
And fall into the sea,
Scraping every branch
On the way down.
There's still lead on my lips
And blood on my clothes.

I'll check into the hotel
And leave my bags at the front desk
While I sit over the sink
And watch the cold water
Run down my hands.
Spewing out my fingers
Like a superpower.

And when the magic fades
I'll break all the china
To make sure they still make sound.

I'll try to checkout.
I want to checkout.
But before I do,
A movie I've never seen
Shows up on the TV
And I decide to stay awhile.

last night
i had a dream
so real-
i wish it was.

theres a burrow in there.
a nook.
a tunnel.
that wakes at its mention.
like a marionette
for its final dance.

i try to keep all the ****
i dont have figured out
in there.

theres a lock on it
but i kept the key too.
its somewhere on my chain
with the others.

the key might be
two gin cocktailes
and not eating for awhile.

i found a place that i left behind.
it still holds the things i look for.

all i want to do
is buy wine
and chocolate chip muffins
but i wheel my cart past the aisles
and i see a familiar face.
waiting in line.

of course
its not really her
the real one
is a thousand miles away
the real one is anywhere but here

I used to go for walks.
I'd sit on a park bench by the water
And watch the waves come in
Like they're supposed to.
I guess I found comfort in their consistency.
My legs would freeze
My ears would burn
But I wouldn't leave until I thought
I felt what I needed to feel
I understood what I needed to know.

I don't go for walks anymore.
This town is too small
And I'm too scared
I'll see you
Shotgun
In a car that isn't mine.

I've tried to bite the bullet.
They don't taste like bullets anymore.

It's been said that sleep is for the weak.
I disagree.
Sleep is for those who have time.
I'm far too busy
Forcing myself to swim upstream,
Trying to fix people
That don't even know
Whats wrong.

There is not enough cement to build the bridge.
Let it fall.
Go to bed.

A year ago today, I sat on my bed.
Singing love for a girl who would never reciprocate.
She sure liked to say she would though.

Today however, a new leaf.
I sat and laughed with friends, over sushi.
A new city.
A new mind.
Jokes and banter float as high
As the I love you's
That came back around to bite
Like cheques that bounce.

You only really learn from pain
And I've learnt a lot
In such a short time.
But I always wake up
Before a bad dream gets too real
So I'm not that worried.

i met Sharon buying christmas trees
for a four bedroom house
full of college boys
that could barely afford to eat.

she said my name's Sharon
and im here to help you
make sure you don't split
these trees in half.

i barely caught a word
that Sharon said
got too busy
dancing in her eyes.

she smiled a bit and said
lets move along,
im sure we've got some trees left
that youll want to take home

i swear to god
it was the most beautiful thing,
she cut the whole tree down
before i could blink

she laughed and turned to me
and said that should do
i said theres no way in hell
i leave here without your name

she said my name's Sharon
and i already told you that.
but we can talk about that later
if you want.

On my last subway ride
I fixate on the plastic map that rims the gap above the exit.

My eyes follow from Ossington, west down the line two.
I stare with such detail.
If the subway weren’t so packed
maybe I’d steal that map for myself.
Put my hands on each corner
and pull out the edges from their holders.
Roll it up into my hoodie
and sneak out like I’d stolen a priceless jewel.
Too many people on the subway I thought, that’s why I won’t.

I take the 44 home from the subway,
and think about how ***** it feels.
How it wasn’t the storybook ending I imagined.
Where everyone hugs and maybe someone cries.
The sky was grey and I was running errands.

As I left for the train station early next morning
I thought about how I may never see these buildings the same way. You have to be in the city to see the buildings this way.
Looking out at the patios that riddle the downtown outskirt condo’s, each floors’ stacked on top of another.
How nice it must be to live so close to a skyline.
How nice it must be to stand outside and still miss the rain.

Sometimes walking against the wind is the only way to get home

my hometown waits for me
like a lover
on the wrong side of a passing train window.

ill be back
but i wont be the same.

and we'll both be disappointed
in each other.

i pay with my skin to sit in this vulture nest.
i pay with my ears to hear these empty dreams
i pay with my time to throw it out on the sidewalk.
from the top floor of the pharmacy
where i learn how to write
from a writer who never made it.
blind leading the blind?
more like
the undead reviving the unborn.
theres no life here.

i am riddled with flaws
an oxymoron with legs
every word, and every fibre
contradicting
weaving through
every muscle,
every thought,
every emotion.

but through all the fat
a seed of belief
a sprout of confidence
untamed and unleashed.
a tiny tree in my brain
grew thirsty lips
and a big head.
writes a scripture with my name on it
fits a crown for my skull.
i have no choice but to listen
no one else wants to talk.