Space loving:
You and me,
Swimming through each other
In The Great Empty
Spaceships
that pass in the night
Taking (clothes) off
At the speed of light

This is the only time I get to myself
so of course I'm gonna write about myself
I guess this pen and paper is a form of self help

And I'll admit -
I feel less haunted

I've got a lot of **** to get off my chest
Like how I've always felt like I'm second best
To a world full of ******* idiots
who did a better job
of makin' life make sense

You see, I've got all these thoughts up in my head
and I don't think they'll ever stop until I'm dead
They tend to come on stronger while I'm in my bed
Hopin' to find some rest
In my knife-proof vest

Cause I've been stabbed in the back a few times
And my paths crossed a few thin white lines
(But I guess that's how it should be)

Cause I've had nights where I broke down and cried
After long hard days where I believed the lies
(Because she told me that she loved me)

And I used to love God
Then I used to hate God
Then I told God to his face
That he didn't exist
Then I found God
And oh, good God
I found that even with faith
life ain't perfect

So beneath our tongues we're slippin' secrets
And in our lungs we're holdin' deep hits
As we get lost in fleeting moments
we notice
we chose this

We are not for them

We've found bliss

Like quicksand around my feet
procrastination keeps me.
I put things off
that I find off-putting;
It puts me in rough situations.

The kind of situations
that a man needs to grow.
How can you be upset with life
when your given all you need?
Nobody knows, it just sort of happens.
Everyone finds something
to complain about,
no matter how easy life is.
When the real wolves come
to overthrow us from our comfort
we are already too caught up
in ourselves.
We panic
We sink
We forget to remain
Calm.
And like being trapped in quicksand,
we are swallowed whole.

A nice stone fireplace.
Worn in chairs.
Tables covered in scratches,
stories people have forgotten.
Kind faces.
Delicious drinks.
I wish I lived in Caribou.
It's the kind of place
that helps me find peace
in the middle of the storm.
The kind of place
that helps me forget 
about the small things.

I was reminded of you this past weekend

I drove by your old place
Where you first let me see you naked
Yet I only stared at your face
And that just made you feel more timid

I saw it as I was driving to Spoonriver
Just to the left of the Guthrie
It was for Mother's Day lunch,
Yet it was her who payed for me
She said that she wanted this moment to be happy
Instead of something that might ******* me
She said to just hold on to all my money
Because it finally looks like I've stability

I think that what she meant to say
Was that everything's going to be okay
Instead of awkwardly denying May

... I mean me




On the way to drop my mom off

I drove back past your old place
The one up over in Nordeast
Where we would buy volcano drinks
At the tiki bar of ****** Suzi

We would walk the mile from your living room
Beneath the quiet winds of spring
And hand in hand with our pre-game buzz
Was a disregard for everything
Almost exactly a year before today
I was in a fist fight there
The bartender said, "At least it was for your girl"
and that they didn't even care

I think that what he meant to say
Was it might be time to call it a day
Instead he gave more drinks to you and May

... I mean me




The rest of that night had been a breeze

We walked back to your old place
A crooked grin,
Attained from gin,
Was sprawled across your face

We found our way inside
We found our way into your bed
Like shedding pedals, you undressed yourself
And took the flowers from your head

It took you all night just to say
That you had never felt that way
And that you thought you were in love with May

... I mean me

I'd bet the world,
if it were mine to bet,
That the flavors of your lips
would open themselves,
one by one,
Like the chapters of a book
about a sad girl
who swears
that she doesn't want to be saved

I wish I was David,
David Duchovny -
not the characters he plays
but the man capable of playing them.

I want you to believe that I want to believe.

I want you to believe.
That, I want to believe.

I want you to believe that.

I want to believe.

Well,
four parts to be exact

I left three chunks of skin

And my old favorite hat

We drank too much Svedka
As we waded in the banks

The broken glass inside my hand
Was the closest thing to "thanks"

Four in the morning,
Too drunk for the E.R.

The stitches you put in my hand
Will forever leave a scar

You said letting yourself go
Was the best way to spend the day

But Katie, when I look at you
I only see someone who's run away

I thought I could help you find a home
Behind the Minnehaha Falls and flats

But I think I only lost myself

And, of course, my favorite hat

"I bet I'll get free drugs"

                    Is dignity so cheap?

Because I know I've got good intentions
But no one else here thinks I do
Is it because of a bad impression
Or because an honest word is something new

I guess it doesn't help that it seems
I've something that I try to hide
Behind a bitten tongue, a shared bottle
And another starry skyed black night

We sit here in front of a fire
Sharing stories of fires past
Most are told by perfect liars
Yet they all think that mine move way to fast
Don't they know that's how all the best things happen
That, and they're often all done out of sight
And just because they unfold quickly
Doesn't mean they weren't done just right

The fire keeps on keeping on
While the group breaks off into smaller cliques
And as the bottle drains its way to empty
They look for other things to wet their lips

Couples start to vanish in the fog
To places that are best kept secret
Like vampires running from the sun
They disappear from places kept well lit
A small blonde with a pixie haircut
Takes my hand and leads me somewhere silent
She kisses me, hands on my chest
And tells me we need to keep things quiet

So now I sit here with my mouth shut
For just the second time tonight
But the hush didn't last very long
My voice was given up without a fight

It feels like a spider
crawling up your spine
Or a voice in your head
saying that nothing is fine
It wants you to run,
to spring and to flee
It wants to be naked
unattached and free
It wants to learn something new
to chart unclaimed territory
with nothing weighing it down
and no reasons to worry
It would rather explore
than repeat the same situations
It's a call out for more

It's a creeping sensation

Katie loves gin
and the way it makes her act
She states her thoughts about the world
as if each of them were fact

It makes Adam feel
                    Like she's the one

Because Adams been lost
since the day he first found
the first pretty girl
he made make a pretty sound

Her name was Sara
                    And they’re still friends

Sara liked to move fast
and liked to leave even faster
until she found the perfect ****
who she's dubbed The Master

His name is Max
                    And he keeps secrets well

He only sleeps with women
when he's drunk and on the run
He's never shared the secret
of where he holstered up his gun

A pistolero of a man
                    Who's name is Tom

Who only met with Max
when he was mad at his bride
Who had a secret of her own
of who she sees on the side

A therapist named Paul
                    Who pretends to listen well

Paul likes to drink
on the job he calls weighty
and finds irony in his favorite patient
a little drunk named Katie

Whom he's often told
                    Should speak her mind

So she had a party
and told friends to invite friends
But once the therapist arrived
it began to spell the end

Secrets spilled
                    And people cried

Tom and his wife
ended up in a divorce
During which he left Max
in an attempt to make it work

And now Max drinks
                    Almost every night

He almost always ends up
on the couch in Sara's house
after putting down his bottle
and getting lost in her blouse

She tells all her friends
                    She thinks she's in love

It forces Adam into envy
who try's to make something out of lust
with a crazy little drinker
for whom he could never be enough

She's already been asleep
                    Wrapped in a doctors arm

Who's already unraveled
                    This strange ball of yarn

I don't need someone
who understands me,
I need someone
who understands
that I am content in my understanding
that they may not always
understand.

Empathy found me at a very young age.


Am I making sense?
Do you understand?

We sat together.
We sat alone, but together.
Not alone in the sense
that we weren't together,
but alone in the sense that
it was just us.

We talked for hours
About our dreams
and our goals.
We revealed our frailties
and our nightmares.
We talked about the hours
that passed as we talked.

We fell for each other
as we joked about how
foolish things are
like love and fear;
like anger and confusion.
We foolishly joked
about falling for each other.

We pictured a life together
where finances didn't matter,
only that we were in love.
We pictured our children,
our cats and our dogs.
At least thats how I picture us
picturing us.

We sat together.
We sat alone, but together.
I mistook your love
for friendship at first
just as you mistook my friendship for love.
A mistake I made, thinking it was real
until the moment that I finally woke up.

I'm doin my best to just be friends
but while watching the sky tonight,
just us two,
I wished on both
those shooting stars
for you

You've got greed on your mind
and may have better things to do,
but we've seen grander sights
and have had better nights than you.

I have a closet full of costumes
yet not a single ****** disguise,
I can forever change my shape
buy I'll always keep these eyes.
I know I look worse for the wear,
I swear it's from nights spent on the move.
How do I know when the limits been reached
with no one there to disapprove?

We ambled 'home' through the streets
and arrived, just me and you.
We found comfort in the sheets
soft and smooth as scar tissue.
But If home is where the heart is
where do the heartless rest their head?
I guess I'll never know the truth
and tonight will bring no rest.

I'll keep stumbling around
until the crowds fail to gather
or a woman comes to my side;
I lie about preferring the latter.
And I've stumbled onto hard times
but caught myself before the cliff
and yet I took another step,
just for the simple sake of it.

Dead men speak with fallen angels.
Blind men in the silent presence of fate.
Ride the waves of a sea long forgotten.
The deep blue of her eyes covers the hate.

Oh God, what a conscious man I've been.

Sometimes, what's left behind
is better than what was there in the first place

It's the way those lights pull at me,
that's how I know I don't want to go back.

It's how gravity seems skewed
and I'm falling
into the endless doorway
that is Pretty Lights.

Talib Kweli sang my lullaby;
I finally fell asleep to Kanye lines.
And the bathroom floor shouldn't melt this way,
it needs to be more esoteric.

My dad was not without love,
but a cliched Irish *******
when he wanted to be.
Drinker, brawler,
all that stuff.
Never shed a tear,
saw weakness everywhere.
But he had this thing for poems,
poetry;
reading them, quoting them.
Probably thought it rounded him off,
ya know?
His way of apologizing,
I guess.
And there was one
that hung over the desk in his den.
It was only when I was a lot older,
I realized he had written it.
It was untitled,
four lines.
I read it at his funeral.
'Once more into the fray
Into the last good fight I'll ever know
Live and die on this day
Live and die on this day'

You resemble innocence:
the second one grasps
the concept
it becomes nearly
impossible to retain.
You are a thing
lost to time.
Though,
whenever I am introduced
to an unfamiliar aspect
a tingle is shot
up my spine
in a way that is
unequivocal

again,
like innocence.

Maggie won't stop watching Charlie Bartlett,
she claims she was Kat Dennings in another life.
I try to dissect her lack of compassion
with a cheap bottle of red merlot wine.



She says:

'I ride a ******* fixed gear.
I'd rather drive a car.
And although you'd never know
I self-inflicted this here scar.
Why do you like Stephen King?
Do you know what I'm thinking?
...
Anxiety really mellows a woman out.'

Her mind is like a whirlwind.
I don't know where to begin.
Should I ask about her fears
about her tears
or why she's so thin?
She's watching Netflix again
and I can't pretend
to understand the kind of man
that she wished I am.



She breaks the silence:

'I lie to strangers too much.
I'm afraid to be touched
or mistaken for someone
who's too much of a lush.
I feel I'm far too shy
and I don't know why.
...
Introspection really seems to calm me down.'

So we sit on the couch
just watching tv.
I think a calm and understanding
is all that she needs.
And when someone talks,
no matter how it seems,
sometimes a listener
is the best thing that you can be.

How is his life?
     Has he seen the sights?
          And can he sleep at night?

       But does it all feel right?
He's got nothing to compare it to,
     so I guess it might.


There's a closet deep within this monster
and he only opens up when he feels like his father.
He squeezes his knuckles,
     a relief of tension,
but it still just aint enough to drown out the apprehension.
He's made of sticks and stones,
          of broken bones
   and abandoned homes -
open for a tenant
          with nowhere else to go.
But with just a little *****,
          smoke
               and wisdom
he can find the right mood
     to hold a rhythm
not unlike any other stage diver,
               cage fighter
     or rhyme writer.

A means to a loose end
                    to make the world feel lighter.

I will have etched my name
into the stars
With my fingernails
being pulled apart
Dissonance fades
as consonance grows
And I've come to realize
there's no such place as home

Yet

What cannot be found
must instead be made
From the very same dirt
where you make your grave
Though the grievance is heavy
the ship still runs its course
Though the carriage is ablaze
it's still pulled by his horse

Voice

A reason to move on
without my fellow man
Because everyone does
whatever they can
Lie, cheat, steal
to backstab is a must
I truly believe
that his reason is just

Because

An opinion to the sky
it's like a cloud to the fish
Try as he might
he'll never get his wish
It's drowned out by the wind
and murdered by the storms
Cremate the dream
and let the ashes lie warm

I like that girl in the cutoff jean jacket
who always goes out with intent to make a racket
All that tribal black light paint
that you'd think would look cliche
until you see how well it illuminates her face

I want someone who still makes me feel young
Who isn't in a hurry to be all grown up
She's not afraid to say yes
to rock a neon headdress
and she always thought it cool to stretch her flesh

She rocks the shutter shades down in her V-neck
All summer long she's on the festie trek
She likes her wooden spiral plugs
her pieces shaped like bugs
and her most favorite thing is to give free hugs

From Triple Rock back to The Cabooze
Electric Forests and Bonaroos
She doesn't think that she'll ever grow old
with music, friends and stories to be told
Hemp and glass are her silver and gold




However, I am not quite like you
I'm just biding my time with this rowdy crew

I haven't yet committed to keeping my youth
and that's why my skin's still clear of tattoos

The longest lasting scars, forever proof:
You were once wild and young but afraid to face the truth

You built me a ship with your own two hands
Which I over analyzed to try and understand
To see things better, I used your magnifying glass
But recklessly, I burned holes in the mast
With nothing left to hold up the sails
I had to find a new way to wander my trails
So I've left the boat, the water, and the cold, rocking sea
To continue on foot, towards a much better me
As it turns out, I wasn't meant for the skies
Nor for the ocean, and all of its tides
Because I was known for getting too high
Or for getting too lost, with no safety in sight
But finally I'm grounded, satisfied at worst
Comfortable in my surroundings, it feels like a first
I'm walking towards something, instead of floating around
I'm carrying tunes instead of just making sound
And though it's no longer here for this part of my trip
I wanted to thank you for building a ship

In bed with his glasses on,
he had been too tired to take them off.
Too shy to smile.
Too nervous to say anything.

It was when she opened her mouth;
Revealing.

"I know why you're so quiet.
It's because you're excited."

A milky layer ascended
and your eyes became
opalescent
The fluidity found
within that blue gaze
was trapped under ice
like a mighty river
snared in December
And all I could ask myself
was "Is she alive?"

The colour rushed from your cheeks

From the red of the blood
that dripped from your septum
due to the ivory powder
you inhaled for perfection
and the blacks and the bruise
of lies and deception
to the green of greed
and yellow of attention

You grew pale
like a corpse
under a cool moon
made of melancholy
and miseries

I'll admit, though
I admired your animosity
The way you chose not to care
almost seemed passionate and planned
rather than spun together
by years of defeat

When I finally realized you weren't coming back
I began to panic

My eyes darted over the phone
and my fingers began to dizzy
I struggled to find the nine
that came before the ones

And just when I believed you were gone
when I thought we had lost any hope
you gasped

The shuddering sound you made
as you grabbed onto that last sliver of life
will haunt my nights
for weeks to come

It was all too beautiful

We'll go grab some coffee
from the place down the street,
where the old wooden floors
creak just beneath our feet.
Then we'll take our drinks out
for a walk through the park
where the moon shines enough light
to see each other in the dark.
We'll start mixin' things up
with the flask inside my coat.
The breezy wind ain't bad
once the heat hits our throats.
We'll share drinks at a bench,
joke about people passing by
and we'll hide behind trees
passing a bowl, getting high.
We'd explore a bit more
then watch an indie dramedy.
We'd forget about Trainspotting
and focus just on you and me.
We'll lie side by side,
as we will the rest of the night,
thinking of things to add
to the list of things we like
like all the chemicals
that make our bodies hum
and the facts that we are free
and that our nights are always fun.

Even the darkest of clouds
will run out of rain

If you wanted change
You should have asked for growth
You have what it takes
And you should have known

The lines that people like
I draw with no cohesion
They're simply strung together
Like your scarred, forgotten lesions

Like a message that hadn't
Been conveyed in a while
The fault line is lost
In the curves of your smile
Your teeth, like the ocean,
Wave in the wind
They have conjured up anger
For less fortunate men

I've sailed in search of demons
And twelve month old dreams
Yet I'll never find either
At least, that's how it seems

As I fiddle with theme
And get lost in motifs
I can't feel anything
Walking nonfiction streets

Liquid karma seeps into our cuts
The density of blood is defused by courage
The sun sets in our arteries
and the moon grows with each heartbeat

Sometimes I forget that no one has felt this before
That exploring the unknown comes with a price
And like a giant drowned in ant hills
I am lost in things too small to comprehend

A star lost amongst the infinite sky
A koi struggling against the never ending tide
You are the priest caught in a fight
finding your true self amongst unsuitable affairs

And all I want
is for you to know
I'll be by your side

A humid night
filled with magic and marijuana
laced pumpkin pie

Capped off with kids
singing Richard and Mimi Farina
on the back porch, alone

An acoustic guitar,
dreadlocks and harmony
found in the sticky air

Electric girl,
Pack Up Your Sorrows
and give them all to me

Put your circuits in the sea,
do what you feel now,
and give them all to me

Burn down the ice caps over my eyes
Your flamethrower love is powered by lies
Scorching the earth in search of the truth
I'm proven guilty without the proof

I search for the entrance of the maze in your heart
But the bigger journey, so far, is just finding where to start

From the hip
A tragic slip
Yet you still don't remember me
One shot
Not for naught
But it doesn't make me bleed
Like a fly
On your eye
Though it's something you can't see
But a glitch -
A phantom itch
Just one is all I'd need

We're free

There's no upside to dying
over trying to live this down
Our lucks been running dry
while we've waited this one out
The prince is told to wear
a jagged thorn-filled crown
While the king refuses to explain
what his life was all about

Sweep these thoughts under your sheets
so you can sleep on them for now.
Do they draw daggers to your sleeves,
or are they light as a cloud?
What paintings have you drawn up of me,
what image do I draw in your mind?
Should we keep dancin' like the breeze
or will you bury me with time?
Am I someone that you'd keep,
like a secret, close to you?
Am I something that you need,
a new refreshing point of view?
'Cause I don't know where I am,
and I was hoping you'd help me
find the right direction
to a little home up in the trees.
A place to see the stars at night,
a place to find a little peace.
A place to raise some children right,
away from drugs and from t.v..
And when they've all grown up,
with dreams of different things to see,
they'll realize they had it rough
compared to life in the city.
But they'll be better for it
and they'll be thankful for me
so when I'm layin' in my death bed
I'll know I did at least 
one 
good 
thing.

Spin a web meticulous
Wield long, woven silk
String by arching string
Until your home is filled

Now you wait for flies to land
They garner you a feast
Until the instinct overcomes
You build yourself a fleet

Now your lovely spawns are here
They imitate your moves
They soon outgrow the mothers web
In time they bring your doom

The sprouts begin to retaliate
They **** your body dry
The hatchlings start their own new webs
With hopes to catch a fly

"I've got this army of two thing
figured out:
You and me against
everything under the clouds.
An eye for an eye
leaves the world blind
yet you'll only taste blood,
biting your tongue all the time.
So when we get the chance
let's head for the hills.
We'll take all the drugs
and leave all the pills."
Take a testosterone boy
and a  harlequin girl
and just like the old song,
a story will unfurl.

Because every man is a town
inhabited by his ghosts;
whichever haunt is around
sees change in the host.
She can taste each drug
that's ever touched his lips
and she feels herself fall
every time that he slips.
There's a white line between addiction
and recreational use,
you need to conquer it
before it starts to consume you.
Eventually the nature
of his addiction will spread
and it starts to fill the cracks
inside his loved ones head.

She's blinded by his single
glaring quality;
her eyes have turned the green
of his hard earned money.
She can't hear anything
over his way with words
so she divides all that he says
into thoughtful thirds:
The times that he's right,
the times that he's wrong
and the things that sound like lyrics
from a cheesy love song.
He's calculated all his moves
and stolen all his lines
and the haze he's put around her
almost makes her feel fine.

He just wants someone
to be proud of what he's done
'cause his mother gives love,
yet he's received none.
And she just wants someone
to approve of her thoughts;
she's never been accepted
yet it's all that she wants.
They've confused love
with a complacency
but to everyone else
the truth's presented clearly.
A scattered home
comes from a scattered mind,
now their losing control
and running out of time.

When being on top of the world
Has me up on the ropes
I like to keep my options open
Like you keep your legs closed

I don't

I got a postcard from the street
"I miss how you put your feet to me"
But she was always such a cheat

A ******,
            A *****,
                          A tease

And I don't expect you to understand
But, my darling, once again
My feet need to meet with their old friend

I think it's time we made amends

She was as smooth as Tarantino dialogue.
And you could tell she was dangerous.
But she seemed more content to dagger me with words
than shoot me with the guns at her hips;
maybe that's why they were penned with a point
and drawn in a deep black ink.
I thought she wanted to tie me down
'cause that's what she wanted me to think.
She talked on how she'd change her ways
and how she could help me do the same;
she spoke of working towards a living
rather than dying like a slave.
She led me to my own room,
to sheets that once were bright and red
but had now faded to maroon rust
like the blood of those long dead.
She showed me every country in the world
without us leaving from my den.
She brought me every star in the night sky
without ever reaching up a hand.
She took me around the world
in much less than eighty days,
but she was gone when the morning came.
She took my money, drugs and faith.

I want to walk in
bartender gives me a smile
She says, 'hey how's it been?'
And then we talk for a while

She pours me a drink
asks, 'what'll it be?'
'Oh just the regular,
but with a side of green beans'
---
I wanna be a regular somewhere
It's something I'd like to be
A familiar face, man
Comin' in off the streets
---
And now my car's close to empty
And I need to grab milk
So I'll buy half a gallon
And give her a fill

'Back for dairy again, huh?
It'll be two fifty-nine'
'Plus I need some regular gas
Here's twenty this time'
---
I wanna be a regular somewhere
Somewhere where they know me
They give me **** for my habits
And for driving a red SUV
---
Now I pull in the drive way
And I walk through the door
I take a look at the clock
Already ten fifty-four

I make my way to the bedroom
Trying not to wake her from sleep
I lay in my regular spot
And she puts her arms around me
---
I wanna be a regular somewhere
It's something that I've yet to be
'Cause I don't know if you know this -
Sometimes I'm even irregular to me

Two nights in a row
with the sun coming up
I thought one was an outlier
but two is more than enough
As Roger Murtaugh would say:
I'm getting too old for this ****
But you keep swinging away;
you must be some wunderkind

I guess you'll never be done
Being this young
When your friends keep you up
By acting so numb

But I guess this is 'fun'...

I forget that you still don't know
That I am so forgetful

And that's one of the things
I think
that I like about you

I know they say it in the movies
but I don't think it's true
I think this town is plenty big enough
to both handle me and you

The roads may not be paved
at least not in gold and dreams
But that's stuffs never nearly as good
as they try to make it seem on the T.V.

Although I am now medicated
by small bluish-green pills,
I sometimes skip a dose a day
only based upon the hope
that she will speak to me again.

Without the pills my world is
confusing. People don't make sense,
things appear that shouldn't
and I feel things I normally wouldn't.

But to risk walking through
the strange lands that my unbalanced
mind creates would be worth it.
If I were to one day finally see
the woman who speaks so gently into my ear.

Her voice was the sweetest thing
I had ever heard. It was to my ears
as a chocolate strawberry is to my tongue.
It would only ever say nice things to me.

Her voice was the sweetest thing
that she will ever speak, if only
she would speak to me again.

When the chocolate strawberry that is her voice
melts onto my tongue and into my ear
things appear that shouldn't.

The strange lands, my unbalanced self.
But with her voice, the sweetest thing,
I feel that all other people make no sense.

So I'll risk it - I'll risk everything I have
for the invisible caress that turns my skin to fire.
The caress of the infinite fingers made by her beautiful voice.

His Achilles heel
is that he's all thumbs
Good looks, has style
but always been a bit dumb
So he's learned to bite the bullet
until he bites the dust
The greatest trick he ever pulled:
Convincing them
he was one of us

But it's been a bit much

So he popped the clutch

And now he's out of touch

You can't just walk into the fire
  You'd burn up like paper tigers

                  No,

You must run into the fire
   -  I swear you'll burn much brighter

Sometimes I think
we're upside down
because I can count
every single pound
of six point six
sextillion tons
of the worlds weight
one by one.

Though some of the time
it's in my hands
it's usually on my back
and hard to stand;
maybe that's why
my spine tends to hurt
and the reason my palms
get caked with dirt.