Fragrances of floral bouquets
and fresh cinnamon rolls
waft to and fro in the warm air,
the subtle hues of red and green
that are hinted everywhere,
paired with the little lights
stretched out on strings
that are wrapped around
almost everything,
bring us all home
for the holidays.

Before dawn breaks
we're both awake
and so quietly
I run my hands
over your back.

Without words
your body turns
and those sleepy eyes
come to meet mine
in a kiss.

Forever I could live
a life like this,
with the windows open
and you right here
in my arms.

When she comes
she brings the snow with her,
circling her white hair
in spirals and waves.
When she comes
the sun shines brighter
even behind the clouds
that veil the horizon.
When she comes
I'm always there,
ready to fall in love
over and over again.

The best idea
I've ever had.

Bugged out,
awake all night
and the ocean
is seeping through cracks in my lips.

Now, don't get lost my darling,
Williamsport's forgotten,
don't you lie my darling,
your love is the ocean.

You'll see one day,
when you're only nineteen
and life is a liquid
in which you swim
and drink deeply of,
that life will get you drunk
and you'll sleep so soundly
and dream your golden dreams
until one day you wake up
and you'll be thirty-three.

Hungover from living
a little too quickly,
you'll think to yourself:
*what happened to me?

Shine and dance
as your blessed iridescence
flies in the moonlight
of a brisk winter's night,
as we spin, time slows
and above us infinite stars glow,
the fallen leaves twirl in a breeze,
limbs creak on the naked trees,
headstones stolid in the earth
all grant us a wide berth
because the dead they stand above
endlessly envy our true love.

See, I think it's key
but she sees it differently
because hypothetically
it could be a liability,
that is, this honesty,
because maybe truth can be
painful it seems
and that will only lead
the pain to breed
and somewhere in-between
that golden honesty
can become a sheath
to house a blade honed keen
we use to cut each other deep.

The routines come.

But they come silently,
and they slither,
and they crawl,
and they sneak into our lives
one inch at a time,
hiding in those missing minutes and seconds,
hidden in hours and days lost to the hubris
of our own sense of youth and permanence.

And all the time we've wasted is held so high,
high up above our heads,
just out of our reach,
just a whisper of familiar texture on our fingertips,
as we dance upon our tippy toes,
as our arms slowly tire
of trying to reach what we once held so easily,
as we look back on the shadows
stretched out behind us
overtop of our ever-lengthening timelines,
and we realize that time is indeed passing
and that the golden memories are just that,
memories,
and these stolid routines that we never noticed
aren't making any new ones.

The routines will come,
but ****** be if I'm going to sit idly by
and let them willingly take me.

All these things I said I would do
are catching up to me
and it seems like laziness is adhesive
keeping me stuck in this chair
but really it's what's within
that's keeping me from
doing all those things I said I would do,
so now I just feel guilty when
I sit down at the end of the day
to stare at monitors and play
stupid redundant games
just like I've been doing
for my whole ******* life

There's a way to break this cycle
and it's as easy as just ******* doing
all those things that I said I would do

I just want to sing

about everything

and smile and smile.

Waste time with me
just for a little longer
and we can finally be free.

Free from the rushing lights,
free from the starless nights,
free like stringless kites
soaring through the vast skies.

Sundays will come
no matter what,
yet let's see if we can
last just a bit longer
and maybe touch me
just one more time
until the long wait
between now
and next Friday.

Tastes like a strong dose
of liquid nostalgia
every time I pull her close
for a kiss.

Then the sun sets.

Don't doubt for a second
the potential within
and don't feel badly
soon I'll see you again.

Then the stars shine.

There's so much time
to be sad and alone
so why bother with that now
when we can call each other home.

Then we sleep.

Dreams come in waves
like currents dragging us along
and I want you to keep smiling
even when I'm gone.

The confidence that I gave her
abolished that insidious
shroud of self doubt
she wore about her shoulders,
but now it seems
that when she believes
in herself
I don that cold shroud
and hide in it's folds
of insecurity.

The light I held her in
cast me in the shadow
of her darkness,
and now the brightness
that she shines with
just tends to hurt my eyes
and burn my skin.

I'm happy this way,
cold and afraid,
because though I may lose her,
I know this to be true,
it'll be her turn to find someone
that is lost in the darkness
and make them shine brightly too.

I love that blindside you to be a part for me to know that I am not sure if I can find it in you and what you used to do that **** and I will be in the morning to see up to date with my **** between you and me or and I if you are looking for a bit of a headache and a few days to ago I and I was wearing a black shirt with you for two days now but I have to get my **** on your way to your office to help me out with the braid wants me back with a new job.

Green, purple, black and blue
I'll press on your bruise
and come into you
as you squirm and twirl
and collide your insides
onto my ridged body
in a ****** worthy
of feature-length films.

Fingers and palms are your whole world
around your throat and crushing into you
between our rhythmic pulsing
and the ebb and flow of your
breath that I have in my control,
we create meaning and feed
on all of this beautiful life.

As I paint you white
and pant and fight
with myself,
I can't help
but love you.

So many things that I don't want to do
lend me some cash
and maybe a place to crash
because there's so many things
that I don't want to do.

I don't really want to go to work each day
just to sell myself and my time and my name
to gather up money that I just waste anyway
on getting wasted almost every single day.

I don't want to sleep tonight
it's just another poor way
to spend my time
when I could be smoking
or drinking red wine,
I don't want to sleep tonight.
But if I do fall asleep
I don't want to wake up on time.

I don't even want to stand at all
I'll just sit down in the hall
and stare at the walls,
I don't want to move my neck
or cash my ******* paycheck,  
has the **** sun set yet?
It'd be nice in the cool damp nights
if I didn't have to do a thing
I would be quite alright
to lay in the grass and sing.

What would you say
if by some miracle
I found you today?

What would you say?

The sun spins out of control
and I pull her ever closer,
with one arm in the air
and the other wrapped
around her shoulders
there's no place
I'd rather be.

Maybe the skies will sigh
their ever gradient glow
in shades and shadows
of red and yellow
as the blue fades away
into sullen dark grey
and the day loses me
amongst the piers.

Hey I'm feeling ****** for myself,
so let's write some ****** poetry!

Oh boy I'm getting drunk!
*Again

****, how many shots was it?
I think, looking down at the ashtray,
7... 8... 9 BUTTS?*
I smoke a cigarette
every time I take a shot.

Well ****, no wonder then.
Oh ****,
who are you again?

Where's the mothballs?
I hate this place,
the empty ******
is a stinking disgrace
and Vincenzo should know
that he's too old to be doing this
all on his own.

But maybe he can
be the last one standing,
at the end of the night
I'm just a man
too drunk to know right
from wrong.

The zipper cried
as I ripped it open
and I took deep breaths
before lighting
a cigarette,
and sigh
blue clouds into the mist.

She said something,
what was it?
I turned to hear her better.
It was something about her hair
wasn't it?
So I told her:

"I think your hair is beautiful,
I love you."
I said,
then hesitating
with a shocked look
wrapped round my head.
She smiled at me
pleased
and began to giggle.

I didn't mean to say it,
it was far too soon.
Admitting I loved her
just reinforced the fact
that we've been together forever
and there was no going back
to the lunch table at noon.

My girl gets paid
to spend time with this dude
to catch fish all night
and occasionally take a cruise
in his car,
or whatever the **** he drives,
to his other job
where he brews wine
in order to get a scale,
not like the scales on fish,
just a scale that
they can weigh the fish with.

But it's cool man, he's got a girlfriend.
What's her name again?

I've got a six pack, flexing
at the mirror with these beer muscles
and I'm in a fist fight
with my very life tonight
but reality just keeps
knocking me on my ****** ***.

I parked here first
so where'd these cars come from
surrounding my dented truck
like a ******* funeral
around a hearse.

She's beautiful weather
on my vacation weekend.
She's the cloudless skies
when I go stargazing at night.
She's one last cigarette
in my pack first thing in the morning.
She's the twenty dollar bill
I found in my old jeans today.
She's the free coffee
when I dont have cash on me.
She's an ocean in the sun
when I'm hot and sore.

She's everything fortunate
that's ever happened to me.

The silence is suddenly broken
by a subtle crackling of my smile
and I can almost see you there
sleeping cozily in the center of my bed,
and I can almost feel you there
spinning slowly throughout my head,
swimming in all of my thoughts
and wrapped up in my blankets
and I'm struck with such glee
because I know
that you belong to me.

Oh dear readers, please don't forget
that without you there, wherever there is
all of my words just wouldn't exist.

But I do not fear, and I do not regret
for were you not there to be readers
I doubt that I would ever even know it.

Yellow lights turn red
and ten thousand times a day
the children whisper lies
they've heard over and over
from the adults in their lives
countless times.

Don't cover your face,
it's hard working for tips
without those painted lips
but the children will grow
in this infantile life
without ever knowing
the truth behind those
beautiful lies.

All this and more
is found shrouded in
a brief amber light
turning to crimson.

The grass crunches beneath my feet
as I step through the fog of my breath
and into the crisp late-summer air
of this idle Tuesday morning.

Signs tell me when to stop
and lights tell me when to go,
these pedals beneath my feet
have me longing for unfamiliarity.

Don't the people know not to show
their faces around here anymore,
when life comes knocking at your door
how can you be expected to say no?

I see them in their little cars and trucks,
I see them driving through their lives
but do they see me watching them
safely from the inside of my mind?

Don't let this life pass you by,
try not to fall too far behind
because there are beautiful lies
that want to keep you locked inside.

I, for one, have grown ever tired of them
telling me to hide, and lulling me away
from the things I dream of experiencing
almost each and every single day.

Come with me
and we can see
space between
our little lives.

Only two more hours of work
on this rainy Thursday afternoon,
and with each step I take
I check the clock
and between my heavy breathing
I mutter to myself with a smile:
"today can't escape tomorrow."

...

Sunday morning and we eat like royalty,
I'm all smiles and her eyes are all over me
and with these empty plates between us
I tell her I don't want this day to end,
and as a longing grin shows on her lips
she so eloquently says
"but today can't escape tomorrow."

Dumb poems.
They should write themselves.

God it's just so funny,
or maybe it just feels that way
because I smile so **** much,
and how she makes me laugh all day.

Man I'm so **** lucky
this opportunity came my way,
because between the rough *******
and the way we dream while wide awake
I know that this love is here to stay.

Sheesh it's so **** crazy
how it's happened so fast,
but I'm so **** confident we've built
something beautiful that can last.

So don't mind me as I burn
so brightly, and in turn
I'll dream of you nightly
until I can return.

Oh boy do I love
just pumping out these ****** poems,
hope your eyes are hungry
dear readers,
because you may feast upon
my endless defecation.

They drank steadily throughout the day,
cheering and laughing heartily
every chance that came their way.
Gun slung low,
and caught off guard
the first one died
smiling and proud.
The echo of that shot
still rings in their ears,
eternally solidifying
that day in fear,
for the lad's
dear comrades,
every time
they taste beer.

She said to me from above,
seeing me crane my neck
at the sound of the water
hitting the roof of the tent.

I heard the stirring wind
and realized she was right,
offering a smile of delight
as she bent down to me.

Meeting my lips with hers,
grabbing hold of me with
her teeth and pulling as
she began to bounce again.

I closed my eyes
to the overcast skies
and sighed with pleasure
at the sound of my name on her lips.

Don't buy my drinks,
and don't sing to me
because I'm tired and I
want to go to sleep.

The ***** sets me free
but it's not who I want to be
so just don't buy me drinks
and don't sing to me.

It's so dry in these dreams
but it's nice being thirsty
on this vast open sea
without a drop to drink.

Is the line as fine as you think it is?

I'm never quite sure.

An ode to doubt instilled,
though so unworthy of my words,
still finds ways to derive life
and persist in this ****** world.
From the insides of my mind,
driving themselves out of my fingers
in bitter fits of agony and pride,
these dark thoughts still linger.

I beg of these thoughts to cease,
to ******* leave me be me
for once in my ******* life
without having to worry,
yet it does no good.

They just look down upon me
on my gravel-ridden knees
and are deaf to my pleas
for relent, for mercy,
as they batter my heart and mind
with meaningless uncertainties.

The steel belt of my trust
has been laden with rust,
and these days it breaks
with the gentlest touch.

Well, ****, so what?
Who doesn't doubt us?

...Maybe I need these feelings
in order to finally believe in

myself.

****, man.
She's got me good,
completely entranced
like I knew she would.

Who's in control?
I know she's all mine,
yet I can't help but fear
that I'm all hers.
We belong here
one way or another,
chuckling listlessly
at the idea of fate.
Fighting through
the tidal waves
of the weekly wait,
and drowning
together slowly
in the shallow
weekend riptides,
our bodies
lost somewhere
in the undertow
of this vicious love,
plummeting deeper
below the unbroken
surface above.


Falling forever,
she and I,
each and every night.

Where can we find a little respite
from these long days and nights
spent dwelling on wrong and right
and just focus on living.

Maybe it's not a matter of where
because there's people who care
enough about us to willingly share
and are always forgiving.

Tomorrow will surely bring
a brand new sad song to sing
about angels who lost their wings
and want a fresh beginning.

As we all do sometimes.
As we all do.

I'm going to touch you
so ******* hard.

Lovely though it was,
the grace of wakefulness
took that light from me.

The more I try to grasp it back
the more it seems to evade me,
receding deeper into my mind.

But my body still remembers fine,
sweaty and aroused with a throbbing
sensation down south of my equator.

Good morning life,
good night sweet love,
may you return tonight.

Return to my sleeping eyes
so my body may remember
just one more time.

I wonder if they ask her
about the bruises around her neck.
The ones just under the line of her jaw,
dark smudges of broken blood vessels
eerily resembling the shape of my hands.

I wonder if they notice
the way she stepped softly and wide
for days after I took her inside
of the tent last weekend
on that one rainy night.

I ponder if they see
the peculiar way she looks at me
or the lights in her eyes
when I say that she's
all mine.

Dandelion seeds in the wind,
the sun burning in her hair,
and she bathes in that light
with a sheen of delight
dancing across her lips,
pressing outwards against
the crimson velvet rope
of her physical boundaries.

Were it a dream, she'd fly
with those monarchs
that so well contrast
her gradient eyes.

When do we know when
to do as we're told and
when to find it out on our own?

Is there a line?
For I can't seem to find
**distinction.

I miss my truck and
I guess a piece of me
still don't give a ****
about the rest of me.

But that's not true,
I'm trying to change
these soiled linens
on my bed of rage.

Let the dust settle now,
I'm approaching the age
where time grabs hold
and ceaselessly shakes.

The cans dry me out,
the brandy's got me hung up
and sober from the relentless lust,
and for the first time in a few weeks
I can smell the putrid way it reeks when
my lips crack and leak liquid copper
all over that loud and sour smile
I wear plastered on my cheeks.