Twilight sprinkles tinkling in the fog.
Swirling eddies in a shot of egg nog.
Snowmen wearing blonde wigs with broomstick arms.

What the hell,
it's Christmas.

Feel the heart that sinks through floors.
Float the farce -
crawl on all fours.
A spider never lost its step
when caught in its own web.
Weave the trail that eats the mist.
**** it in.
Explode essence.

Love is like stepping on a nail,
then running.

I cleaned my room today.
It started with the closet.
I tried everything on, and based on the fit, decided whether or not to toss it.
(I mean, donate.)
I filled two boxes.

Then I went in a clockwise motion from there, attacking and reorganizing everything I came across.
I took **** near everything out of my room so that I could mop it.
Then I put everything back in,
got drunk while watching Netflix in a very clean room,
and eventually wrote a ****** poem about it.

My family's problem is -
well ****. There's a list.
It's been in my head for years now,
so let's get it over with.

My mother's problem is,
she's a good-for-nothing alcoholic.
We've all tried to get her to stop it,
but there's nothing we can do about it.

My father's problem is,
he's too ******* nice.
He believes in the sanctity of marriage.
He still loves his wife.

My older sister's problem is,
she wants nothing more than to be normal,
but she has no idea what that means.
She takes all her cues from commercials.

My brother's problem is
a Christopher Columbus complex.
If he didn't discover it first,
then he could care less.

My younger sister has problems too.
The last born into this mess.
She has no idea what to do.
She still tries her best.

My problem is,
I think too **** much.
Spent my whole life trying to escape it.
Now I'm way out-of-touch.

My grandma's problem is,
she did everything right.
Never smoked a cigarette.
Never had a drink in her whole life.
My gram's problem is,
that despite all her grace,
she's still losing her mind.
She doesn't even recognize my face.

My older sister's problem is,
that she's so ****** condescending.
As if she's got it figured out,
but we know she's just pretending.

My brother's problem is,
he thinks that he's the ****.
If you're not doing like he's doing,
then he can't handle it.

My father's problem is,
he tries his best to "Let It Be,"
but through his words and actions,
it's clear that he's angry.

My problem is
that I'm too self-absorbed.
Quietly observing in order to find a way
to put it into words.

My little sister's problem is,
she still believes she's a princess.
After getting a good look at the kingdom,
she realized it's something she'd rather not possess.

My family's problem is,
we're all a bit over-stressed.
They're all too embarrassed by it,
so I'll be the one to confess.

My problem is,
I'm an instigator.
Chalk it up to my love for drama.
It's no wonder I'm an English major.

My brother's problem is,
he thinks that we still hate him.
The villain of our childhood.
He can't accept being forgiven.

My older sister's problem is,
she only wants the best for us.
The first to deal with dear mother,
she knows it can be rough.

My father's problem is,
he believes he has to be tough.
That he alone can hold it all together,
but we know he's had enough.

My younger sister's problem is,
she's too ******* sweet.
She knows this family will ruin her,
so she clings to any form of release.
She's invariably bound to lose it,
so she does so all the more desperately.

My family has problems.
Clearly, it's plain to see.
I love them anyway,
and I'll try my best to share our story.
I feel it's my destiny.

My mother's problem is,
that we blame her for all of our problems,
and despite all of our insistences,
she makes no attempt to solve them.

Somewhere between Gluttony and Vainity, I suppose.

Now write me off to this full mooned night
There's no one left to check this flight
I'll leave you all on the cold hard ground
And fly into a new dawn's light

But I go alone
As you stand in stone
And now my speed is slowing down

Because what's the point
Of going there
If there's no one else around

I think I'd rather stay with you
Under your wing
All safe and sound

I'd rather take a walk with you
Than to get lost and never found

Through the park
And through the dark
And through the night, til we see day

This may be better than aimless flight
I think this is where I'll stay
It took a lot of wrongs to find one right
Thank you for showing me the way

It spilled out and the ***** swept it up.
A ghost wearing sheets that were brought to your mouth.
Don't tell me 'bout things I don't wanna to hear about.
Don't talk to me right now.

A wraith in a dress and a ghost to impress.
A beast in the sheets with a white handkerchief.
Don't speak to me about things I don't wanna to believe.
Don't ever speak to me again.

Hide in obscurity.
Cryptic visage.
Anonymous shimmer.
Arcane mirage.

Be the enigma.
Wear the unknown.
Always a question mark.
Forever alone.

What price have you paid for that countenance so vain?
Besides the cost of makeup
and hunger pains

My dear, I'm afraid
You've lost more than you've gained

That army of boys all waiting in limbo
Does it please you so to have those dogs at your toes?
Sorry excuses for men who will never know respect
If you ever gave it to one of them they'd move right on to the next

Don't count me among the many trying to take you to bed
I'm more interested with what's in your head
And in yours all I can see is a complete lack of depth

Sometimes, when I say your name,
you wince.
(I want to force you into a corner and press up against you)
Your face in a grimace;
you cringe,
(I want to ravage you savagely)
as if you're in pain.
(I want to turn into sand and bury you alive)
(I want to take these two hands and tear you apart)
It's quite rude, really,
(I want to bite off your lips and devour your heart)
but I don't hold it against you.
It seems involuntary.
(I want to explode on you then swallow what's left)
I think there might be something wrong with you.
(I want to **** all the life right out of your breath)
More than anything though,
(I want to turn into a river and drown you in the flood)
I'd like to know
(I want to spread through your body, bones, and blood)
why.

Who're you getting back at?
This act has to be directed at someone.
Are they watching?
Will they see
the instagramed photos of you kissing me?
Will it make them jealous?
Will it make them angry?
Will it result in a late night text message that reads;
"Please come back to me!"

Sadistic Queen,
how are you so mean?
Your punches are subtle,
but leave me with internal bleeding.

I love the way it stings.

Bring me another poisoned fruit from your tree.
Make my stomach ball tighter than a white-knuckled fist.
Hit me again,
you beautiful bruiser.
I've never before felt a pain such as this.

You are a *******'s *******.
Take one step closer and I swear, I'll scream.
****** ****** doesn't even hold a candle
to this twisted, grisly, nightmarish scene.

It's almost more than I can handle.
Stop it.
Stop it!
You're hurting me!

Sometimes confusing what we want with want we need,
and when it all falls apart;
oh, how we bleed.

Whether a steady downpour,
or a soft, subtle drip.
"I'd rather be alone right now,"
but we're together in spirit.

The silent one.
The stoic one.
The prideful one.
The hot head.
We've all been hurt before.
Oh, how we've bled.

But a stone's blood is cold,
and the darkest shade of red.
If and when it flows,
it only ever does so
slowly.

"You take care of yours,
and I'll take care of mine.
Now, if you don't mind;
please just leave me be."

These poems are for posterity (because mind-loss runs in the family.)
I dedicate all this poetry to my progeny, but most importantly,
to the one and only Future Me.
That old guy who's worn out and world-weary.
The one who's losing his memories,
and can't keep track of what he thinks.

These are all for you.

I'll record the lowest lows and highest highs.
Presented for the perusal of his (yours, my) rheumy eyes.
I might embellish at times -
I might even lie.
I just want to be able to look back and realize:
It's been an incredible life.

In the whirlwinding downpour I can see what it's for
Some semblance of a peace of mind disguised as wanting more
And filtered through your anecdotes I see the picture clearly
A moment as profound as this I'll never hold so dearly

Sincerely this time, I really must go
I'm combating with the ghosts of things that I can never know

Give me your hand, a hug, please just something
Because this ain't enough; I'm dissolving into nothing
I need one more chance, two more lives, three more times
So that I may reapply it to the format of my mind

My muse can be annoying but I find it quite amusing.
She takes the cake when it comes to making the commonplace confusing.
Does she like it when I'm climbing,
or would she rather see me fall?
She's either dumb as a wall or just doesn't care at all.
Schadenfreude. Paramountcy. Trounced then disenthralled.
I'm forced to use these great big words because she makes me feel so small.

Love is a fiction being written in the moment and read in the past,
and it only lasts for as long as both parties involved believe it to be true.

The herald of hedonism dove headlong into his own soft spot,
with just enough pressure to puncture it.
Awash in thoughts of lost humbleness;
Swimming in his own *****.

Tore the skin to reveal blood and guts.
Nothing left but guts and blood.

Animated by some force of destruction.

Short stories with breakfast
A novel at lunch
Non-fiction for dinner
but not too much
Passion at night
The most eloquent dreams
Waking with dawn's light
and feeling serene

Wait, I swear I've felt this all before.
That thought followed by this scenery.
My idea of what she may have thought of me while I walked out the door.
This tree,
and how it depresses me.
I swear I've seen it all before.
Perhaps it was in a dream.
Maybe I'm living in a repeated pattern of the same old thing.
Just another thread woven inside of a tapestry.

There's too much gray for it to be appealing,
with the only color coming from the heart that I am stealing.
Just the beginning of a romance that I will never be forgiven.
These branches try to trap me with a guilt I'm not admitting.

Wait, I swear I've said there will be no more.
I've put it all behind me.
I'll find something else to live for.

Then suffocated by a rope made of that same old tapestry.
I swear I've strangled myself before.
Twitching on the carpet,
I've died a thousand times and more.

These trees offer to hang me
with gracious low-lying branches.
I deny them all again.
Not tonight,
but one day you'll get your chances.

Wait, why do I keep walking down the same old streets?
Is it some mad hope of running into the younger version of me?
Perhaps I already have in some half-remembered dream.
I'm haunted by these trees and plagued by memories.

I swear I've felt it all before.
Fumbling for my keys in order to get through the door.
Stumbling to my bed in a drunken stupor.
How the hell did I get here?
What am I living for?

Do you remember that time?
My family has a home video of it.
It was my birthday,
and we were little kids,
and there's this moment in it
where we are standing quietly -
Staring at each other
Awkwardly.
You smile and giggle,
and I smile too,
but only a little,
because I'm trying to be still.

When I see it, it's like walking into a time portal.

I remember what I'd said to you.
I remember how I'd felt:
Like everything was moving too fast,
so I asked you for some help.

I said,
"Just stand here a minute. Don't move.
Let's just stand here for a second."

And you did.
And there it is!
Us standing awkwardly right in the midst
of chaotic childhood revelry -but removed from it.

We're like two young souls frozen
forever in a moment that made no sense,
and when I see it,
I long for that first loss of innocence.

How'd you get so dark, kid?
Where did that **** start, kid?
What's it like to walk that twisted line between hero and villain?
How'd you come to be so haunted?

A tiny figure lies at the bottom of a cardboard box.
It is surrounded by straw,
and curled up into a little ball.
Eyes closed.
It sleeps but not peacefully.
Twitching and shaking;
periodically jerking out of its fetal position
with a stiffening of its limbs and an arch of its back
as if in pain,
or ecstasy.

The four folded ***** that make up the roof of the box get pulled apart.
Blinding light pours in.
The figure stirs and squints its black eyes into vague and undefined distances that will soon fade away to nothing.
A deafening voice booms down from somewhere above the box:

"John, we were wondering if you'd consider coming in to the department today.
We know you've been under a lot of stress lately,
but it's just - I mean,
it's been three weeks already.
We could really use you.
We've been swamped."

Bogs and marshes.
That's all I see.
All I've ever known.
It's in everything I eat.
The source of all I drink.
It's all I'll ever be.
It's in my skin and bones:
Concentrated pools of misery.

My body is a home.
Our limbs are bent tree trunks writhing in a storm.

Your breath is wind I bend to swallow.
My eyes are black holes that pull you in.
Our tangled limbs are frozen forever on some forgotten event horizon.

I have daydreams of turning you down.
You come on too strong and I uncomfortably say,
"Uh, I should probably go now."
Then I leave and you cry, wishing I had stayed.
While on the road I feel pity, but know it's better off this way.
I'll laugh about it as I fall asleep,
then wake up to never think about you again.

Meanwhile you'll slip into a downward spin
full of drinking and drugs and self-destruction.
A series of abusive men will leave you lost in a haze.
Dumped by another boyfriend, you'll go through a lesbian phase.
And for your fall from grace, it'll be me who you blame.
You'll spend the rest of your days cursing my name.

It's just a reverie, I know.
Only romantics truly drown
and you are not a romantic!
I have fantasies of turning you down,
but in reality, it's the other way around.

Blueprints of future eloquence
drawn up in the mind.
Manufactured moments played out in real-time.
Accidental actors
improvising memorized lines.
None can be the wiser to the grand design.
It's all for nothing if it feels too contrived.
Make sure to leave enough room for all those little
unknwons in life.

When it pans out how it shouldn't,
when just the right amount of things go wrong,
it all comes together in one incredible instant.
Profound.
Beautiful.


Gone.

Seriously dude?
You're going to ignore me for doing something that I really want to do?
Haven't you ever felt passionately about anything,
or is that just too uncool for you?

What have you done?
What are you doing?
God forbid I try to find myself.
Hey, friend, thanks for the support, by the way.

If it's not cool enough for you, then get lost.
I'm better off without you,
so I don't care what you say.
The last thing I need is another reason to doubt myself,
so you can just go **** yourself.

I'm still going to do it, anyway.

That's one hell of a spider web,
but I like the way it vibrates.
If it takes two to tango then how many more do we need to tap dance?
I think I fell out of the Conga Line and into the river.
These **** shoes will be the death of me.

That's one heaven of a flower arrangement.
Congratulations on your spatial awareness.
If I had a few more of these then I think I'd finally be able to understand the extent of our particular disease.
It seems we're always partying on a molecular level.

I don't proclaim to know the half-truth of secrets spoken in ancient tongues.
It's all a bit too convoluted,
but if you pull this tab right here then the whole thing comes undone.
And yea sure,
maybe now we're more vulnerable but that just makes it more fun.

I used to climb onto the roof just to feel closer to the stars,
and tonight I climbed a ladder then wondered where you are.
Sleeping safe and sound in the warmth of your bed?
I wish I were your pillow,
to know the thoughts in your head.

Do you ever dream of me?
To know would be too much.
Instead, I'll climb to greater heights
and wish on stars for luck.

Surfing on the waves of the apocalypse,
our hero dives deep to grab the wings of angel fish
then spins with hands full 'til he's at the center of a whirlpool capable of drowning the world.

The reaper appears in the eye of a storm,
and as our hero peers into the depth of his cowl,
he's surprised to find a smiling caricature of his own face.

(This is the part where the main character blasts off into outer space.)

Armed with a bottle full of light,
he slays the wicked worms boring holes through his brain.
With the combined might of all the stars that remain,
he smites the dark matter beast before it can retreat to the unseen place between all things.

But victory is bittersweet,
as our hero soon discovers that he can no longer breathe.
For lack of the existence of gaps,
his lungs collapse beneath the crushing weight of everything as it condenses into one solid mass with an atomic number quickly approaching infinity.

Everything goes black,
then suddenly . . .
BANG!

The reasons I stopped talking to you had more to do with my own personal shortcomings than with anything you did.

I know you.
I like you.
We've similar parts inside our heads.

But I know it's not like you
to ever want to share a bed.

In a moment like this, do you know what I wish?
For you to still be here
Telling me to get over it

In times so dark, do you know what I want?
Your voice telling me
That I can get back up

In the parallel universe
Where you're still alive
Everything's perfect
And everything's fine
We still hang out and stay up all night
And we never argue
And never fight

But I'm stuck in this one
And in this one, you're gone
And nothing is right
Everything's wrong
And *******, I miss you
You've been gone so long

I've decided against advancing toward her goals.
They hold nothing for me.
A thing like this can't be bought with gold,
though I sold it all for silver.
Melted down to form a mirror.
I think I saw someone else reflected.
A stranger's eyes seem clearer when my own are so
blind.

Climbing up trees because fences are barbed.
Smoking on rooftops.
Took the lightning rod as a souvenir.
Paint markers and spray cans.
Don't worry man,
this place has been abandoned for years.
Throwing all the chairs into the pool.
Teepeeing the neighbors.
Chasing each other with fire extinguishers -
we couldn't put out the flames.
Accidental arson on Carson street.
It took that guy weeks to paint over our names.
They're offering a reward in the newspaper.
How many people have you told?
Shooting out the lights in cul-de-sacs.
The dark makes criminals feel welcome.

We never once got coal for Christmas,
but after a certain age,
vandalism just feels ridiculous.

Supercilious satirists sipping scotch with seriousness
while discussing super silly stories
in a state of semi-deliriousness.

I'm always waxing and waning
Thinking I've gone crazy
Climbing mountain tops just to pick a few daisies
Sometimes, it's lonely

I'm always leaving before I've arrived
My mind is up there dancing with the clouds in the sky
But then,
Sometimes,
I can see heaven right through your eyes

It's not that I haven't been paying attention
I take it all in as mental expansion
Connecting everything to the dots in my head
Looking for the true meaning behind the words that you've said

I'm always revealing too much, while not showing enough
I guess you could say I'm a bit out of touch
I guess you could say I'm not easy to love

Sometimes, I cry
But not for myself
I cry for the lost souls that I can't seem to help

Sometimes, I laugh
In spite of myself
And at this trivial pursuit
Of trying to figure it out
But that's when it hits me
(Sometimes there's an audible click)
And I smile and laugh louder
Because I have it

The surface seems sweeter the deeper you go.
Please give me your hand.
I'm too far below.

It's always darkest right before dawn.
How long have I been sleeping on rock bottom?
Have you got a breathing apparatus on?
I'm sending signals in waves.

This is a new kind of certain old craze:
holding one's breath til the end of their days.

A good captain always goes down with his ship.
Easily done when there are no lifeboats attached to it.

I'm shooting up flares.
Is anyone there?
They sail right on by when you no longer care.

I grew up watching my parents reduce themselves to their bassist.
Oops, that's a typo:
They are not musicians.
Debasement, so crass.
Humiliation on full blast.
But I guess it's a fairly common thing to dread family vacations.

My mom can't take the hint.
She can't tell when we're disinterested.
My dad talks a bunch of crazy **** despite who might be listening.

There's an unspoken comraderie amongst us siblings.
We're all in this together.
We fight our inherited,
unwanted,
self-destructive tendencies.
When I lose a battle I can always count on them to make me feel better.

Two have found ther wings.
They flew away from this place.
One soars high,
but I fear the other found himself another cage.

It's okay, I think.
I mean, I think he'll be okay.
As for us remaining two,
we're slowly making our way.
Our way out, is what I mean.
It's what I meant to say.

This nest hasn't been kept very warm,
but I guess it's still a home.
With two featherless,
flightless birds to deal with;
I'm glad I didn't have to go it alone.

There's something to be said about a whole lotta nothin',
but I'm not about to say it.

A swift crack to the head and suddenly I'm off my feet again.
A bit of paranoia settling in.
A lingering sense of regret over things unsaid.
Things I might want to give to friends just in case I never see them again.

A quick jab to the ribs and suddenly I'm taking it all in.
Seeing the importance of it.
The implications of knowing where to begin.
Beginning again after everything else has come to an end.

A clenched jaw with fingernails digging in.
A slip of the tongue that should've been bitten off.
A song sung while lying in a field thirty yards from the bar.
A poster hung from the walls of the place where we used to live.
A bit of bone sticking out from a sawed-off limb.

A fist hits me in the stomach and suddenly I can stomach anything.
The twists and turns and cigarette burns and the lessons twice learned but never accepted.

This is how it starts.

Perhaps I should've thought twice before partaking in this hike.
My legs are killing me.
I'm tired all the time.
My dreams only remind me of all the trips that I've had.

But if I soared into your fence I'd be electrocuted in an instant.
Nevermind the environmentalists several miles off in the distance.
They can't save me.
They've got their own sinister agendas.
In some way we can trace all the blame back to Brenda.
That *****.

No one laughed at the funniest joke ever told.
In fact, many of them cried,
while others went batshit and lost their minds,
but most just sat and stared;
Catatonic.
Unaware.

Everything broke;
nobody cared.

If there was a way to you
You know that I would find it
And I still have a day for you
Where I don't try to hide it

But if those dreams do come true
It won't be as good
No it won't be so good

And if those stars never do pull through
I'll still wish they would
You know,
I really wish they would.

Ever-conscious of the cage,
We take comfort in our cells.
Dreaming of escape,
But making no attempt to free ourselves.

I only ever make things worse.
"Who do you know who owns a hearse?"
I once rode to Denny's next to a coffin;
it was empty.

There's this guy at work
who worked at a funeral home before.
He went through a fast food drive-thru with a dead guy in the back.
He'd died from obesity.

I don't know what's worse:
Tragedy or comedies.
I'm always tearing up at the happy scenes,
and laughing inappropriately.
******* ******* irony -
gets me every time.

I know I left your place just minutes ago,
but it feels like it's been years.
I shouldn't drive while I'm seeing double,
it's a miracle that I can even steer.
I know a thousand people view me as a villain -
The root of all their drive-time fears,
but I've got my own troubles,
and there's no way I'm sleeping here.

In this place, I have no face
And no future which can daunt me
On this night, I can close my eyes
And remember all that you've taught me

On this street
My feet know where they're going
And I can find my way home
Without even knowing

Slowing only enough for me to take a deep breath
Realize this moment lasts forever
And forget about death