now my mother at fifty sighs
at the dinner table
says
when we were children this
is what we call old
and i thought it nostalgia
speaking
before the sight of my father
lenseless in the low light
of that diner
like a fist to the chest
greying man growing heavy eyelids
folding up into something like grandpa's
he says
he is not afraid of dying because
when the time comes his flesh will
fall apart
and in this gilded chrome future of ours
the spirit stays pumping cooling fluid through rubber veins
and this brain of his
will keep spinning away
when did he stop growing up and start growing old?
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC
ignore the faceless children pretending they never made the same mistakes
while you hover over the edge--
trembling from the weight of guilt like gravity pulling you down
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
some days the weight of the world
sends us tumbling from our apartment windows
too fast for regrets to catch us
but the concrete will cradle you and
rock your fluttering heart to sleep
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
i am a salesman
my pockets full of sand i call
gold dust
standing at the street corner
your pipe dreams done up in
glitter, chrome, and steel
i am a wishing well
as empty as my promises
bone dry
throw your pennies down
copper against cobblestones
mocking the hint of a sound
empty yourselves into me
i'm exactly what you wanted me to be
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
i want to split this skin
and hold my skull in my hands
a graveyard souvenir from
someone i no longer am
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
i'm stalling in these slowly sinking weeks,
seeking question-mark validations from the backs turned to me.
these are abandoned bridges i wish i had burned;
boards that break before i try to walk on them.
i hear them creak in your wake when you walk past.
maybe i could find my hammer and nails and try again,
but you've made sandpaper out of my heart and
my throat's scratched raw.
don't ask girls who hate paper cuts to build you rome.
she'd rather build you gallows to hang herself from.
there are aches in the joints of my automaton heart
and i cut circuits just to forget about you.
she stared me dead in the eye and i tasted acid rain.
hate smells like rotten petrichor.
i forget my midnights in hopes of sleeping through the sun,
but we're haunted by our daylight ghosts.
i must smile and say hello
before these puppet string frowns pull further down
in dread and dreariness.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:01 AM UTC
you lost me in the white noise
of your voice
deafening down my throat and
when i choked
on your sandpaper soliloquy
all you heard was
static
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 10:18 AM UTC
you're the chord progression i can't complete
and the melody of me and you i thought i knew
an ill fit daydream, obsolete
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
i'm in a house of one way mirrors
people looking in only see themselves
but all i see is you
staring
staring
staring
at me
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
Text sent 2:48 am:
i tried to find ur old messages
Text sent 2:49 am:
it's been years
Text sent 2:51 am:
do u rmbr me
Text sent 2:54 am:
us?
Text sent 2:59 am:
i think the phone forgot
Text sent 3:00 am:
when i looked back it was all long gone
Delete all messages?
Delete/Cancel
Messages deleted
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC