Missing one last sunset
tattooed bodies
intertwined
Depressingly connected
as we built up to goodbye

I felt her sorrow beating
drumming words we dared not say
rattling out the reasons
that could convince our love to stay

waves of raw emotion
made it difficult to stand
knocking us off balance
as she tried to take my hand

I fell backwards upon the lonely beach
she laid down and we stared
Into forever
for a while
realizing love was never there

Every day I wake up next to you,
Somehow seems better than the last
Just awake
Yet I’m still dreaming
Feeling completion
Within my grasp

As this morning begins
Where last night ended
And together
tomorrow will pass
With you the future never looked so bright
Baring light
Where shadows once held fast

She was everything
I thought I needed,
Yet I was everything she didn’t need.
We,
Two lonely midnight voyagers,
Treading water
in a sea of not meant to be.

As the sun sets on a lonely city sidewalk,
shadows dance
while strangers remain.
foreign faces
passing without a glance
in solemn servitude to a metropolitan pace.
too much to do about nothing
busy bodies
yet stagnant minds.
empty vessels, so full of themselves
socially isolated
through a refusal to break stride

we're stuck
in big city melancholy
lost
in a grey scale state of mind
thousands of people
occupied in obscurity
always together
and still alone all the time

In the still waters of the pond where they used to lay
A solitary reflection
Mirrors the plight of his pain
In his favorite outlet
A blank canvas
Shes the subject,
the Inspiration,
She's still the blood that flows through his veins

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

Christmas.... ugh
Isn't this a perplexing situation?
I have an interesting question...
First, I know this poem is not perfection
But does any one know what it's like
To be utterly alone on what's supposed to be
A most joyous day, surrounded by friends and family?
That annoying cherubic man
Won't be visiting my home
It's just an idiotic holiday
And no one cares I'll be alone
No homemade Christmas dinner
I might make myself a grade A steak
I'll raise a toast to myself
Nothing to boast about
Probably just whiskey, bottom shelf
I immense-ly hate Christmas
Say I'm dense-ly, I don't care
Been that way as long as I can remember
From the makeshift tree, when I was three
To being stuck homeless in a snow drift at sixteen
I can count all the "merry Christmas's" I've received
On one hand
It's never been merry, or happy
Most I got was engorged on stuffing
And a poorly cooked, dried out Turkey
No presents under the tree
With a gift tag saying Melanie


You know what? Sorry Quin,
but this is too **** depressing...
I quit...

Tequila, Velveeta
Distant, instant
Solemn, Gollum
Under-wear, I don't care
Tiny, finely
Flightless, loneliness
Hindrance, appliance
Backward, forward
Orange, purge
Rooftop, please stop
Kringle, Pringles

Ha! Invitations?
No...
Salutations...