i took the ideas
out of my skull
and i placed them on the mantle
above the fireplace
I watched as they twitched
in the orange flame
i am the weary product of destruction
you were just another friend of mine
i once knew what to do with myself
but i soon forgot
we sat on the couch
and observed my half-born creations
you spoke empty wisdoms
into my hollow mind
all the while pretending
that there was something
to admire
before long the distance became
a pocketful of torn ticket stubs
a collection of subway maps
a string of missed phone calls
i doused the living room in gasoline
and dropped a match on the floor
through the window i watched
as the ideas on the mantle
turned to orange flame
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 7:03 AM UTC
one drink illuminated by candlelight
you sit across from me
and talk and talk
but your voice is in a low whisper
you don't want anyone
to overhear your pitiful excuses
you scold me
then feel bad
the red rose you gave me
when we first sat down
now sits awkwardly
on the small table
two drinks illuminated by candlelight
you beg me to say something
my mouth is closed
only open to the liquor
"you're acting ridiculous"
I don't respond
I ask the waiter
for another
three drinks illuminated by candlelight
I begin to envy the rose
it looks beautiful
there is no mirror
but I am ugly
I take the rose
and peel the green coat off
then the petals
until it's ugly
as ugly as I feel
four drinks illuminated by candlelight
you stand up
put on your jacket
"where are you going"
you don't answer
I watch you walk away
you don't turn around
you don't say goodbye
five drinks illuminated by candlelight
the glass is half full
the glass is half empty
the drink is gone
down into the pit
of my stomach
the seat
across from me
is empty
i toast the invisible man
he smiles
six drinks illuminated by candlelight
i don't know
why i'm sad
i just know
i feel sad
i sit
i say nothing
the glasses are scattered
on the table
my mind is muddled
my brain
is in pieces
i stand
i sit
i stand
i leave
Jan 14, 2010
Jan 14, 2010 at 6:13 AM UTC
he never brings me flowers
only symphonies of the moment
they speak of delicate voids
and the darkness of the season
he brings it close to my ear
and doesn't smile
the sounds drip slowly
like blood
they cut through each *****
the notes pierce through
my bloodstream
until it all falls out of me
and gathers in a pool
at my feet
i dont ask him why
i don't ask him why
because he doesn't know why
he looks and blinks
but he doesn't say why
he leaves through the back door
and walks down the driveway
i go to the sink
and i wash my hands
but the blood stains
Jan 14, 2010
Jan 14, 2010 at 6:13 AM UTC