I promise I am that fool of which I speak
The powerlines prowess admits to me,
In its careless potential and off color decree,
But I do not listen to it’s evening exposé,
Opt for inspecting the way it’s wires bend and contort in the breeze
The cut in the cord and the energy it seeps,
The pensive cold blue of rapid release

It’s burnt and **** and treats me with a saga of distaste
I sway wishing for the musty lust in the tangible fillet
A muddled display of connectivity, after it’s time and still I hope not too late.
In all the contact reveries, you will not find one of such dismal elation
Just a spark in need of a metaphysical escalation
I plead for a being I cannot fool

Little ants on a leaf fighting a rippling creek, the little maelstroms spitting it's mist at shaking knees.
    The captain's last stand with his heart in his hand, watching the golden coast elude him. Yet with all his fright and all his fight he feels the sunset soothing.  
    Things will grow and things will die, they will move mountains or sit idly by. But remains the glimpse, of the coast, inside.
  Captain climbs to the leaf's curled tip, quietly going down with the ship.

"All galaxies are indeed moving apart at an ever increasing rate"
It's the saddest thing I've ever heard
Don't they know it will be too late?
They'll burn up only to leave
The vacuum space between

Adaptive we say
Time and decay
But morals and friendships-
drugs and hugs and spark plugs,
Surely they're meant to remain?
Not fall like autumn's leaves or spring's rain and grow anew or cycle through...but stay?

If I could press a memory in this book I'd fill the pages
Instead these images press my brain
And my memory beckons and pleads
"Am I still able?"

Tell me so.
Do we start, what we always know will end?


3


2


1

go.

The last knock at my door
Laid out a soft rapt
It was everyone I knew
Rang up to find out
Did my fingers sprawl
How do I know my legs grew

All the cars in my town
Flee yellow and blue
Filled to the brim
Pulling the street wide out
How did all distance set in
Do I know my stride is at whim

A cliff side is calling
I hope that I don’t fall in
The vines lay all tied back
I’ve ate all my egg yolks
I fold in my linen

I’m young and I’m weary
I’ve been younger too
Something is gone here
I peaked years ago,
and no one knew

No *******, no poems. Nothing to hide behind. I remember listening to this Modest Mouse song, freshman year of high school. I had 20 bucks of **** **** socked away in a ps2. I had so many deep, but not intricate feelings. Maybe these are the best kind... It was a year of a fresh new start. I felt like the outcasts in all the halloween specials and ******* I had watched, as well as this tragically different being. I started hanging out with E. He's an indie wrestler nowadays. But back then we mostly smoked our cannabis, made jokes about historical events or political agendas. We were in a video production class. The class let us roam in and out and off of school grounds, missing other classes even. It was perfect. I met the older kids, we'd drive around, I just remember it now as sunny and a little chilly. I even lost my virginity that year. It was a train wreck of a relationship. Two people trying to hard to be older than they were. She was a senior then and had just lost her father... I still wonder sometimes if she's okay and I don't know why. It's not romantic worry, it's not hoping for reconnection, it's just a sentimental anxiety. It was a time of friends, running in nature and crunching leaves with my cross country team. It felt right. It felt so good to be old enough to be the freaks and the geeks all rolled in one. I didn't know then in 5 years who I'd be. I didn't know those people would fall away from me. My fitness would fall away from me. I wouldn't go to the library high with E anymore, shooting nonsensical politically engaged videos, full of bad hidden jokes and nearsighted irony. My sophomore year E stopped attending high school. We stopped talking so much. I haven't seen him in 3 years now. And only then it was a quick hello, his hair has grown so long. His eyes didn't look rebellious but lit with hope anymore, they didn't race. He looked older, real-er. Our momentary grasp on time and reality gave through the cracks in our hands. Now I sit at university. Barely scraping together classes for some mod-podge video art minor. Sometimes I feel like I like film because it reminds me of those old times. I still have fun, I still have experiences that ******* away, and at only 20, I'm sure I have many more to come. But I still can smell the cars and the schoolrooms, feel the trails and the weather, and taste the air and the packed lunches, from half a decade ago. I peaked in high school, and I'll never belong anywhere as much again.

When the clocks grew silent,
Mellow abiotic laws swept away with the evening's wind
The light hit the hills with the softest envy
And the grass sat content between our toes

What became of the twilight gleanings
Pangea evaded you like the sheepish fox
Were the pieces arranged, devoid of meaning?
Trembled hands settled and stilled.

If the clover grew to touch the sun
The lonely ground sank to feel the core
And the trees whispered to the birds
Would it be a puzzle at all?

That secular moment
The door held in all the negligible knocks
All the chariot questions
And from the hinges came,
From the elusive, dissimilatory frame,
A shuddered cry, an inhaled yell
As the unanswered door sighed and fell,
The pretending pretense we both adored
Stiff and still it lay, a peregrine ward

There was my search for lighter air,
I can't get off the ground.
So the geared clock it goes, it shakes it runs
Sweetness me, your holy father was a butcher's son,
White absence on the canvas of warm forest and rayleigh scattering.

It's never felt so long to Spring,
The tentacles of longing hold the weeks,
I am but the lemon, and the guardrail king.

She’d walk up with all the graciousness of spilled paint
A glass of wine for a long day
Who has developed my room in sepia?

We’d missed the festival
Mixing in the kitchen, a flannel excitement
Why did we ever take that walk?

I’ll never know why

Drown me in self pity
Fill me with gravel and confetti
And I won't scream and shout, or tell anyone about the sarcastic soliloquy

Dance me into a state of disbelief
Your unsteady heartbeat,
will without fuss or pout
Tell everyone about you and me.

This is the last song
Taped up bodies and muted cars
This will be the last one
If I can swing the stick
I can’t be wrong

Hold me just a little tight
I need the takeout
The lawn is overdue,
earning sweeping bare feet
Fending off rain on neon nights

I’m looking for a pickup
One that can transcribe,
Vibrations uncanny
Senseless in my mind
I’m only a little open
And it’s my last song tonight

Take off the roof and pass me the moon
Let’s drive in the dark too far
I haven’t been moved in so long
But I feel it’s making up for lost time
Treat me and need me
Tonight’s song can wait for soon

The love of your life is out there
And probably overdosed on ******* ******

Drink, ****. Poor. Lick, sensual fits. ****. I'm lifted like a arobatic wind, and drifted like a scattered garbage bin. I'm long and I lay verisimilitude to your crude oil painting of a Dubloon, your family ruin, treasure. I bring pleasure and distraction in a measure I can't measure up, too. I'm falling asleep on kin's couch as I dreamed I touched you. A canvas I placidly transit in my dream fallace. But I, I am I gilded knight, a sanctioned right, a shortened night. Why in hell cant I spill a little, content with being the **** for once, at the expense of my happiness, I choose constants.

I'd never questioned it before
What all the camera flashes
What all the picnic baskets
Showed up for

If not for the steady hold
It couldn't be for the speed
It couldn't be for the need
Of something simply bold

I'd never felt the hotel bed
For all the the cultured gravel
For all the temporal travel
The history it read

If not for the pure blank sheet
It couldn't wait for more
It couldn't wash ashore
The romancing callused feet

I'd never noticed the speed
Of course the gold couldn't stay
But does the need go away
With wasted time and heavy aches

Can compound interest
And societal indifference
Distract the great adventurer

Tell my financial travel
Do the landscapes I missed, unravel
And blossom stability
Or philosophical infertility

Every year I can’t comprehend another quarter
I anxiously await and loftily avoid the thought of-
Pounce on every forgetful ray to-
Release hot air in defiance of-
The sterile spray of the other side of the coin

The ashes born of Ares’ antithesis clings to my arm as if to slow me
Calm me-
Yawn me-
As if the earth longs to all together toss probability
Budgeting all the uncertainties of life

Finding stability in the isolation of population is what it seeks to do
And I am sure of it
I am one with it
And in my hatred all I view is the sky filled with static

Particles and the ever-certain participles scattering on my lawn
But it’s lonesome-
And how it is cold-
Without the midsummer clammer I find myself in scrutable control

I can’t rid my head of the pervasive interference
Is it no more than I can avoid that the-
I can’t absolve blame if the-
Equinox persuasion is the fray and rein of my of control?

misplaced, my intentions lay
a muddled sultry mess with the essence of my soul tied on
knotted and forlorn
nestled like bungee cords in the back of a suburban
the countless ambitions and insurmountable lows
they don’t treat me with focus
they cling and sink and surface in little moments
they fog my glasses and leave me empty, in a stupor
walking through any alleyway that beckons my name

it’s foreign to be misaligned with your conscious projection
someone put this out of sync
something left me out of frame
i’m pouring substance to smudge the scrawlings of a hallowed obsession
my autocratic, autobiographical TMZ
a drink to dull the sharpness of my critiques

a little remedy to sleep