Demons keeping you up all night.
Move along, light another cigarette
and act like you're under control
instead of falling apart, tearing
patches of your hair out. Break down
and hold tight. Everything's gonna
be alright. Peeling away at layers
of newspaper on the coffee table;
knowing that talk is not action
and that only movement creates.
Love is so hard sometimes.

There lives the sweetest ignorance deep inside lies
like a parent giving consolation during a hurricane
because sin is easy on the conscious when nobody believes in heaven or hell.
Grey matter, brains neither black nor white,
gasping for air in a world where we've lost the ability to feel
empathy like novocain, stares and strangers with eyes lacking love
waiting to die young and become raised up like a martyr
instead of living the everyman's life.
Self doubt, the most beautiful of all flowers, like blood from a rose thorn's *****
pumping through bodies. The man and his guitar on the street corner,
dressed in his Sunday best, each note a silent prayer.

Make conversation until it hurts
because you won't let him go.
Exchange your pleasures for pain.
What do life or death matter
when you are surrounded by light?

Identity is just a dream until
it becomes a nightmare.
Something that she can’t escape
and promises she can no longer keep.
Let Go and Feel Your Nakedness
outlaw Harold Norse preaches
deep inside the marked pages
of a different sort of bible.
And so she drowns her dreams
in early morning conversations
where she sleeps on the wings
of an albatross, forever in flight.

Love, love is a verb.
She was a bullet
Headed straight for my heart.
She is heavy.
She made bad ****.
Tell me something. Something more.
My life hurts.

I wandered from distraction
to suddenly pause where
the fellow had ventured too soon.
Dressed sheepishly in pebbles,
I listen to your morning song.

I wrote you another love poem today,
Full of cliches and sap, thicker than honey,
but than I thought; he loves you
and you him, so just be on with it already.
Please, forgive me if I’m too frank.

Would you take a walk with me
through the park and around the lake?
Dreams of a future lie in a purple-trimmed house.
We drink too much (coffee, *****)
while we spill our secrets,
comfortable in our vulnerability.

Stand still. Pretend for a moment
that you’re mine and I’m yours.
This time we’ll take a picture so that
later, when you go and I remain (stuck),
we’ll have something to bridge the miles
between my heart and yours.

The guitar notes float down
from the upstairs window.
The neighbor man has the blues
again and I realize he’s not alone.
Seven years worth of memories
make for a heavy, heavy weight.
To attach like an overgrown leech
starved only because of my own ignorance
will lead to a dark and lonely death.
I can't help but think that you find pleasure
in this game of back and forth we've been playing.
Do you know what it feels like to always be
somebody's second choice? An afterthought?

For days afterward she feels
Numb and diluted; nothing can touch her.
And then a rush of emotion so strong
She's dancing across red rooftops.
Plummeting through the night sky;
Alice chasing her heart down the rabbit hole.
Unafraid of death's sweet oblivion if it means
Forgetting the taste of him. How she comes
Crawling back with just one word.
Manifestation of anger in music:
loud, angry, earth shattering
And finally quiet. Quiet enough
To ease the heaviness of the world.
Words spill out. Questions. Doubts. Apologies.
When the world is spinning alongside
Your head, remember,
You. Me. The world. It was all made to be broken.
Take a sad song and make it better
Because happiness has a violent roar.

They called us survivors.
Communing with the dead,
Releasing our demons
Into the world. Our goal to liberate
The flesh from *******
And become one: body and soul.
They called us beasts of burden.
Beauty was ours in the face of destruction.
The blossom of our future planted
In a past of mud and the future is steeped
In sunshine and love. Our hearts here
In the present. Not afraid to make mistakes
For belief in second chances granted by
The warrior of forgiveness. The bane
Of our disbelief leads us to
Sacrifice,
Redemption,
Salvation,
So that we might stand alone at death
And they call us survivors.

Welcome to where you are.
Don’t you see the stars shining above?
Slow down,
Breathe in the space between our lives.
We’ve been here before.
Me living in a future that will never be,
And you, promising to hold me tight
As you say again that you’re my friend.

That night you let loose from salty lips
That you almost kissed me,
With your arm around me,
Our bodies warm to the touch,
Heartbeats in sync,
But something stopped you.
Was it that my brother would step outside
And our secret would be no longer?
Or was it the fear that suddenly I
Wouldn’t be the only one falling from a high?

That same night on the phone
You told me I had nice *****.
Well, at least I have that going for me.
Am I the only one that’s touched you in that way?
Yes! Yes, you’re the only one
The only one who’s given me goose bumps,
Sent shivers down my spine, with just a touch.
Run your fingers down my back.
Kiss my neck,
Nibble my ears,
One more time.
Yes, you’re the only one
Who’s bitten my lips,
Caressed my soft *******,
Made me wish away my life.

Do you know that you could still have me if you wanted?
That you’re still capable of breaking me?
It’s only fear, darling.

He remembered the winter
to be unnaturally full of magic.
The verses perhaps too pleasant
as the girl lay there trembling
and thinking of tomorrow
and the dilemma of her death.

The selves we lose while
we’re busy being found
in the brittle pages of bibles,
at the bottom of Barcardi bottles.
Transcendence and imminence
weave together and pull us apart.

I was three years out of high school and finally getting
the chance to grow up. I’d been ready since before
graduation day. Everybody in the world was certain
that I would fail. I couldn’t succeed. Thanks for the vote
of confidence. I am proving them wrong. I’m succeeding,
maybe not thriving, but succeeding right before their very eyes.

Success is living on my own. Being able to do every household
chore on my own. Success is getting myself to and from where
I need to be in my broken down, beat up wheelchair. Success
is budgeting my money each month. Success is not getting killed
and ***** on my walk home from work in the dark. Success is
living up to their standards and way of life. Success is faking a smile.

I’ve learned more about life in the last eight months than ever before.
I’ve made mistakes, just like they said I would. What they didn’t count
on was me learning from those mistakes and picking up the pieces.
They told me I wouldn’t last more than a month, six weeks at the most.
I would ***** up, fail miserably, get hurt and hospitalized. Thank you
for the boost of self-esteem. It’s made me tougher than steel.

I may not be the perfect student, skinny blonde *****, award winning
page designer or most eloquent writer. I may not speak Spanish fluently,
have loads of extra cash lying around or a motorized, state of the art
wheelchair. Stop telling me what I need. I don’t need or want any of them.

Success is living how I want to live. Success is a productive day when I want
nothing but hot tea and soft music. Success is having the confidence to ask
for help when I’ve been told I shouldn’t. Success is making friends who can
read through my masquerade. Success is facing the consequences. Success is
found through red ink marks and piles of papers. Success is not letting those
who don’t believe in me get the best of me. Success is sunshine on a cloudy day

The television is on with the football game  
blaring from the speakers with people crowded around
screaming out plays, and insults. Jumping up and down until
the popcorn and beer a spilled and it's time for refills.

The kitchen is a mess. Packed full of chips and dip, pizza and coke.
It’s become a free-for-all. An all-you-can eat buffet.

Candles scent the air and lamps light the way
When you come, you won’t want to leave
Because it feels right. Because it fits.

Lying there in your arms on my bed
without a care in the world. Laying there
and pretending that maybe, for just one minute,
you were mine again and I was yours.

Our hands intertwined and sweet kisses
on the forehead let me know you still care. The way I
tickle your arm and nestle my head in your chest
drives you crazy. The way you wrap your arms around me
and pull me closer; the way you tickle my back makes me
melt while I'm lying in a dreamy,
semiconscious state with you.

What do you miss the most?
Oh god, everything. I miss a lot of things.
I miss the way you smiled at me like I was the only thing
that mattered in the whole wide world.

What do you miss the most?
I miss the connection we had that summer.
Me too. Me too.

If you could change one thing, do something
differently, what would it be?
I would fight like hell to see you more,
spend more time just like this.
How about you?
Hey, that wasn't in the rules.
Since when have I ever followed the rules?
I would kiss you more.

Do you remember our last kiss? I do.
I remember everything about it and it drives
me absolutely crazy.

It was hot outside, really hot, and I had to leave
but your car needed some work before you could
make it home. We said goodbye and I had turned away
to leave before spinning around for one last kiss.
God, that was incredible.

What happened to us?
And please, don't feed me any *******.

We don't even have to say a word.
You lying here with me is enough.