I looked at my friend Anthony’s arm yesterday,
There was a scar on it
New to me
A large scar
With little dots on the outside perimeter
What’d you do to your arm?
I was drunk
Punched a window
Pulled my arm back in
And
It was covered with blood
I called my brother
He took me to the hospital
Hmm,
The world is fair for Anthony

Pumping Red Blood beneath paper skin
Flowing without
and Flowing within
breathing life, into
craving eyes
listening to,
all our cries

I cannot separate
From the faltering pain
the pleasure that comes
again and again….
like Waves receding
upon the beach
when something lies
just beneath my reach

i’m talking of the feeling,
i cannot describe
i’m talking of the look
in all our eyes

it’s the feeling that leaves us
cold and alone
hiding behind
these faces of stone
the feeling that something,
just isn’t right
it’s the feeling that leaves us,
up at night,
swallowing serenity
behind closed eyes
In this solace,
we try to hide

but never will and never can,
For this feeling,
is the mark of man

it’s the great power that makes us raise cities
Its in everyman who wallows in pity

It scorches tender hearts with fire
I’m talking,
Of
This feeling,
Desire.

For so many years, I searched for something to prove my existence to the universe,
I searched for something great to do
I searched for something to fill the empty void of nothingness,
That grows inside myself
Then I realized the greatest thing I would ever do
Was you

It is not in idleness
That I justify my reproachfulness
That is where it is judged
Scathed upon
Laughed about
Debated
Still elating in my sorrowful bath
I reproach
Condensation lining the walls of my fragile heart
It feels like cold glass
Throbbing inside a marble cage
Every beat
In every way
Close to shattering it's tiny pieces upon the cold linoleum
That provides the floor
To my aching gut
It's in idleness
That I may remain...

The effects of sleep deprivation on the mind
Sometimes depression,
Sometimes bliss,
Inability to focus
Yet the mind rests exactly where it needs to be
I wonder if it is better to remain sane and neutral
Or insane, suffering the ups and downs of emotional detriment?

Sometimes I find joy in the mountains
Sometimes I find joy drinking silently in the cities
Sometimes I find joy fiddling away with my guitar
Where the depths of my despair will end, I am unsure

Typing
Writing
Watching the blades of grass
And lawn-mower
How I wish I could mow lawns
But no
My life is much harder
I have to be a writer
Now,
Or at least
Other times,
I don’t know what I am

Sometimes I try to trace where my personality split,
Where these cold shards of broken glass have left me feeling empty and alone,
Sometimes I try to fill it,
With drunkenness,
With wine,
With spirits,
Sometimes even with beauty,
But the euphoria of you never fades away,
And I know I need to find myself
But I am lost, swimming
In your Ocean

Sometimes I wonder if there is some righteous path that I should be taking
Should I be doing what I think is “right?”
But how do I know what is “right?”
Perhaps I should just do what feels “right”
And let the wheels that want to take me down this long windy road,
Take me

I watch the trees
Cackle in a polyphony of sound
Writhing
Dancing
Crying
Yelling
Sleeping
The leaves even fall dead
Where is my ticket?
For this show
The velvet drapes of Carnegie Hall have never seen such beauty in all their days
And I wonder
Why do people chase
Chase away the days and lives with 9 to 5 jobs
Just to buy a ticket to watch some sort of unforeseen beauty
Working just to work more
And living to work

And who ever had the silent idea
To sit idly and watch the trees
Dance and sway
And cackle at my *******
While I drift away
Into the depths of the show
The show that never ends.

Where did we split off?
Was it the train?
Was I running after your solemn face staring at me through a windowpane?
Did we part ways in an enchanted forest?
Or perhaps it was in the depths of my cold room
Nestling under the covers
Begging warmth from each other?
I’m not sure, but in these moments of longing, I always remember you.
You’re still with me.

I’m not normally one for romantic poetry,
I’m not normally one for love,
I’m not normally once to crave another,
I’m not normally one to let someone else in
Why is it you my dear,
That I am so drawn to?
Does the answer lie in your scarlet hair?
Or your faint grin?
Does the answer lie in your bottomless eyes?
Perhaps the answer lies in your heart?
I prefer not to know
I prefer the keep the mystery veiled in secret
I prefer to let our love dance in those foggy New Orleans streets
Floating over the puddles and making love to the romance that hangs in the air
Perhaps I’ll find it around the next corner,
Setting with the sun,
Or falling like the rain.
Swooning over the moon,
Like lonely clouds
During midnight
That’s where I prefer to believe,
Our love lies