It's Wednesday. It's raining. I'm in my car at my schools parking lot listening to Beach House on one of my favourite college radio stations. My hands are going back to their pale colour (sign of autumns bloom.) I am wearing my favourite beige trench coat and my favourite noir beret. So many favourites, you being one of them. For once in what seems like a long time, I do not feel utterly discontent with myself. In fact, I feel quite good. I'm alright, Bryan. I'm alright, and so are you. I crave warm soup and hot green tea. I crave a metro ride to somewhere far, far away. I crave heart-felt embrace and mail packages with my name on them. My tights are starting to tear. I've always had this thing for beaten up things; books with loose-leaf pages, worn out t-shirts and sneakers, Ginsberg, Burroughs, Jack Kerouac. I like the spurs of sea shell rainbow that form in puddles on black concrete. They remind me of the ** Coexist album cover, as well as bits of recalled memories from my childhood. "Why do you come here? Why do you hang around? I'm so sorry. Why do you come here when you know it makes things hard for me?" Goodness, Morrissey in his Smiths days makes me feel so in tact with my youth. Black is such a cool colour. Cool is such a cool word.
Swim in a puddle with me, Bryan. We can leave our coats on if you'd like.
I want to be foolish with you. Be my autumn valentine.
February doesn't need to know we're here.

I think you may think I’m pretty
I also think that’s not enough
To make me want to know beyond your name
Or hold the different layers of warmth between your fingers

The walls stand against me tonight
There is feral love within the unseen of our dreams
Why do you croon so insolently, child?
The forces of gravity are in your favor, be keen

I want to taste your pain and insecurities
I want the exposure of your body to melt in my mouth
Cherry blossoms spring forth from desolate hymns
Autumn leaves spur foolishly among the skies

Press your throat against my earlobe
I want to hear you louder

I want to hear you clear
Your every sigh, a memory left for me to dwell on
Your every moan, an undoing, my ******’s suicide

These are the things that matter, the more you get the less you are
The higher you are, the more you fall
The more you fall apart

These are the words that hold my youth
These are the words that hold my heart

These are the words that will never be enough, no never be enough
To make you less you and make you more mine
Yet I hope for your life, I hope for you, I do

There are subliminal messages on my birthday cake
The candle lit itself on fire cause it did not know
No, it did not know how to feel about time

Glow in the darkness with me, monsieur
There are secret worlds in your mind
That you yourself are not aware of

Let the strum of vision put you to sleep

f-f-feel it, again and again
In your bones, on my bed

You've got to close your eyes to see me better
There are ghosts in the back of my head
They want to know
Don’t tell them why

Neither one
Neither one of us
Will make it down this hill alive

Gila, Gila, Gila
They will teach us everything
Except how to mourn, except how to die

Maybe I will change
Maybe things will change
Maybe you will change your mind

Madame, I meant it when I called you pretty
Madame, I meant it when I held your hand

Piano tuner vibrations at one-hundred-fifty decibels form inside my chest
Yet, it's not enough
No, it's never enough

To hurt the soft smoldering of my insides
With the conditioned paradise of your pain.

that was never sent.

Wow, I am such a loner
I am such a loner, wow
Internally, I’m a loner
Physically, I’m a loner when I choose to be
Which is often I suppose
Because you see, I enjoy the company
Of my own awkward silence
Our bones are composed of empty spaces
That are meant to be filled up by each-others words
You need to tell me whether you love me or do not love me
That is the only way to keep me from breaking in three’s
My ribs they are so fragile
My tiny body atop the sheets of your bed, so very fragile
Oh, but I don’t want to be whole
Shut up shut up shut up
Succumb to the glories of drunken cinema with me instead
In your mind
Come, touch my thoughts with your thoughts
Whisper somber poetry into my ******* with your soft chapped lips
I cannot forget the temperature of your body
Your hand in mine is a fever I refuse to sweat out
Medicine, medicine, artificial cure of wounds
I like the way bruises add sass to my skin
Wow, I am so pathetic
I am so pathetic, wow
I will never grow out of it
You will never grow fond of me
What a cycled misery
Baby, baby just walk away

Another rainy evening in the city
6 2 4 P M

you live within the empty spaces of my body

with your book
full of lies
and your eyes
filled with tales
sad autumn stories to tell
soft stormy weather to feel

don't fool me in
let me be
a golden thread I spin
Jeremiah, dance with me

I woke up this morning with my face in a book
it smelled so sweet
it reminded me of you
I brushed the tip of my fingers against it's words
smooth, soft, mesmerizing
I pretended it was the pale of your lips
pausing the words I wish you hadn't said
indulged in the kisses you've yet to give
an epilogue, your ghost inside my head
paper spine, your bones resting on my bed
good-morning, love
it's been a long time since
I got my hands on your teenage poems.