I see you sometimes
And I can tell from that
Faraway look in your eyes
That you spend too much time
Waiting
And not enough time
At peace
With yourself.

It feels like you've spent
Most of your life
Waiting
For the bus.

It's warm for February
But your hands are slightly
Chapped and your flannel is worn
Down and missing a button.

As the air bites your
Ears just remember your
Eyes only water when
They want to be free.

One by
One
Each piece of
Your drum kit
Flies away
One by
One
Each memory comes
Back at night.

Until all you have left
Is a snare
The same snare you
Started out on
And you're still the
Nervous kid
Who didn't make it into the
Salvation Army band.

Find a street corner
And scream at three
If you're in the right town
Nobody will question it.

It's too easy to hate the things
That are thought at night when the only
Bones that will work are
The red ones inside of your hands.

Stop
Just
Stop
Now.

All the memories that keep popping
To the surface like the
Bubbles in your carbonated
Beverage
Stop trying to
Push them back down.

STOP
JUST
STOP
NOW.

There are signs
Flashing
Warnings and
You won't listen.

YOU CAN'T
CHANGE
WHAT YOU DON'T
ACKNOWLEDGE.

And there's one more
To add to your list
Of screaming messages
Notated in black ink
On blue tape
Stuck to your cranium.

Ice and rubber
Fire and glass
If there's a cure
You haven't found it.

But now the bus is snaking
Up the hill and you're
Shifting your feet and
I can tell that you're not going to
Let your mind start wandering
Until the next time you're
Waiting for the bus
Downstream from a cigarette.

today i was thinking about
loss
and how perfect
silence is in its purest form

and i was thinking about
love
and how beautiful
music is to broken ears

and i was thinking about
how there are
a lot of versions
of myself

like playing cards
that are all the same deck
but every face is a little
different from the other

depending upon
the company
holding it
of course

but i was thinking about
which i liked best and
it's the version of me
when i'm alone

all my faces shuffled and
neatly stacked with
those useless jokers turned
inward against the others.

and then i got to thinking about
love and loss again
and i decided upon what
i would really like

and that is to find the person who
i like the version of myself with
as much as i like the version of myself
when i'm alone

and i would like to fall so deeply in
love with them that all my other
losses look to me like
the faces of playing cards.

I remember how the
Blood used to run down my back
Like I was killing
The back of my mind.

The blackness smearing
Down to my cheeks as I let
The water dissolve me like a
Sugar cube.

And I sometimes think how
Useless someone else's shoes are
Because to truly know someone
You must stand in their shower.

My shower is stained now
From the hard water
And there isn't any more
Blood.

Literal, metaphorical or
Fictional
It's all gone
Washed down the drain.

Hot, hot water
On a Friday night
Hot, hot water
It's not like it's that different.

But I still remember how the
Blood used to run down my back
Yet I'm still struggling to
**** the back of my mind.

I'm not sure I'm even sad anymore by the technical definition of the word-
I think I just am tired of waking up to the same smells, the same sounds, the same loneliness that has become my best friend-

They say you get addicted to a certain type of sadness, but that could be just a lyric in a song I heard once-
I find myself dismissing the ideas of sunshine and wishing for the rain-
I find myself driving across state lines tossing my cell out the window and letting my darker than normal hair fly in the wind as I drive with no end goals-

I am sure I'm not sad anymore I just hate routine and want to disappear for a while-
My doctor wants to put me on anti-depressants but I flipped him off and screamed anarchy as I walked out that door-

One day I'll have the courage to say goodbye to everything I've ever known-
I'll color my hair and wear tight pants because I can do what I want-
I'll drink midori sours in the morning and sleep in my car-

My doctor called me reckless and insane -
My parents called me immature and needed to grow up-
My friends told me I'm depressed and keep trying to reassure me I won't die alone-
I say I don't give a **** anymore; let the wild take me and set me free-

I've made a shocking
Discovery.

None of us have
Chests.

And none of us
Ever did.

We all have green screens
Stretched over our hearts.

Stretched tight
Tight enough to suffocate.

Green screens that show us what
We want to see.

What we want each other
To be.

And it's easy to suffocate in the
Green screens they put on us.

But before you tear that fabric off
Keep one thing in mind.

You keep the editing program somewhere
Deep inside your mind.

And you're the one splicing the pictures
For everyone you meet.

And that's harder to uninstall than
What we put over our chests.

You're wearing that plaid scarf like a
Scottish ****** again
Which technically only means that
You have no fashion sense
But what you're really communicating
Is that you're sad.

Light a scented candle and stretch
Out your feet like nothing's wrong.

Hold the stoneware mug in your
Cold fingers and place your
Lip on the rim but
Don't drink.

Just let the heat slowly soak into your
Bones and try to forget the
Ukulele melody trapped helplessly in that
Sleepy head of yours.

And let the steam fog up your
Vision, just let it all go blurry
For a moment until your hands burn and
You have to rub them on your jeans.

And inhale deeply what you're
Smelling
Although it smells
Foreign to you after years of
Drinking coffee you're finally
Finding some semblance of peace
With your hot liquids and your
Hot-headed heart.

And please remember it's okay to be
Weak sometimes
And it's okay to
Drink tea sometimes.