I need a stiff drink
I need a long walk
I need a lasting love
I need to just breathe...

I dig through my closet
searching for shotgun shells
I need to shoot a gun
and I hate guns
but if I do not release some tension
my skin will pop at the seams

standing in my yard
I aim for the sky
and pull the trigger with haste
closing my eyes
opening them to realize
that I am still alive
and nothing else has died
a weight is lifted
I have never felt this light
before in my life

you could cut the ****** tension with a butter knife
but neither one of us really cared about what the other one had to say
with our strange in-congruent lives and our eternal fear of internal pain
it can really take its toll when you are vulnerable

sitting at the end of the street, contemplating the site of the inevitable
I took a right into a spiderweb of streetlights
trickling into the abysmal blackness of the night
you could cut the ****** tension with a butter knife
and neither one of us cared where we stopped
with our reasonably similar motives
and our never ending lust for physical eruption
it can really take its toll when you are vulnerable

I turned the engine off and the crickets went wild
into an awkward silence as our faces splashed together
like the moon sinking into the earth
I disappeared into her mouth and my shoulders sank
my legs went numb as she playfully fault back
in a manner that seemed to be out of her control
the moon sat on the dash like an owl in the trees
my fingers began to clench and her finger nails plowed my skin
sending slim cascades of wine colored blood down my spine
we lie like lions on a tree branch as the sun comes up
breathing in the atmosphere and taking in the sounds
for a brief moment we were in tune with each other
affection seems welcomed and time moves slower
the road back seems longer when the key hits the ignition
everything goes back to normal even the tension
it all builds up then someone gets cut with a butter knife

roasted
toasted
and burnt to a crisp
I wish these thoughts in my head didn't exist
my heart
my soul
my fist
I could walk away from all of this
children making other children eat paint chips
my love for any other is fading quick
it is enough to make any sane man sick
I question my reasons for holding on
I have the dead mans hand
and I am about to fold
from the minute we were born
through the period of growing old
we are sold
stripped of our clothes
and robbed of all of our gold

I met you
when you were
just starting to poke
through the cocoon
that surrounded you

those big brown eyes
and those large black pupils
starving for light
attracted me like a black hole
I am spiraling like a pin wheel
will I disappear with you?
or will disappear into you?

I noticed a fray
it blew in the wind
I caught it with my fingers
and the static electricity lingered
I began to unravel the threads
then I was cut short as I fell from the limb
of the tree we were living in
I am a damaged caterpillar on the ground
on my back watching you
flap your wings with a rhythm
as you fly around
landing on any flower
that is in bloom

I am lost, in my back yard
flailing my fists, boxing with god
I want to know why I am content
with living in a private box
knowing I could very well be buried in one
when my thirst for life stops
I live as if I am already dead
instead of growing, I rot
I should be describing ink blots
in a gown wearing sandals and socks
because I am about as understood
as the circles in the corn crops
I am a mushroom growing from
what the bovine creature drops
while people around me seem like livestock

my body is spent
I lay in the grass
and it feels like pavement
I cannot change this
or do anything to prevent it
stress comes and stress goes
my heart is the entrance
and my brain is the outlet

I filter everything
and I am a conduit, a vessel at float
touched by the waves and the breeze
carrying me towards the suns glorious beams
like Icarus with delicate waxed wings
I am sure to fall short and drown in the sea
until then I will learn to appreciate
the commodity of breathing

I am staring out of the window
watching the wind hit the leaves
she is staring at me and talking slow
telling me that I have a nosebleed
I have planted these little seeds
and now they are leaking out of me
grabbing a tissue
she touches my skin
and it feels like something
a non-believer might believe in
seeping into the sheets
wrapping myself in cotton
I am beginning to feel nauseous
she sat calmly and cautious
holding my hand and my hair
as I began coughing
then becoming sick from it
she cleaned up my sins
then became lost in them

I send knives to the sound of your voice
and they ricochet every time
bouncing back at me
but now they bounce off of my skin
with a parachute landing
hitting the floor
like a liquid
bleeding into the grain
and spreading
drying up
and disappearing

focused fumes
filling a dark room
I lit the fire to the blanket
covering you
and I watch the flames
as they are extinguished
by the rain
pouring from the cloud
hovering over you
I could not be alone tonight
and now I will never be alone
again in my life
holding in my hand
a broken robins egg
that I broke myself
in an attempt to save it
the road to sadness is littered
with the best of intentions
and the sky is painted with
the faces of the people we miss
and you are these things
you are what sadness brings