I seen the mark of the beast
in the reflection of the sunlight in her hair
as she sat between my legs facing away from me
on a blanket I laid upon the ground
and the sudden breeze freaked me out
she changed things without making a sound

from outside of my body
I watched her morph into my greatest burden
and I was sitting there doing nothing
just like a good little german
as if I am secretly jewish
and she has already started the burning
but she knows who I am
and she forced me to show her
over and over again

she was like a little feline friend
running her hand of knives across my skin
fighting through my thorny ribs
she plucked out a black little berry
and I watched as the juice stained her lips
leaving me as vacant as I have ever been
and the mind of myself I found myself in

I know now what I did not know back then
that I would stay the same but never be the same again
the sound of a light switch could trigger
a three day alcohol ******
that would end with the contour of my face
pressed into my car fender
those were strange days I wish I could return to sender
or at the least not remember

to her no harsh thought is thrown
instead I build shrines for her in my head
she became places that I go
curse my photographic memory
for this is a very scenic road

the scared skin of the sky
bends and folds
as our breathing passes though it
it exists after it is gone

there is a blanket between us and the ceiling
we pass a candle back and forth
and that sweet, sweet feeling
set in real nice as I shut my door
we threw my collection of gems at the light bulb
and we missed every time
we made dinosaur shaped shadow puppets
until it became day time

feeling cool for a moment
keeps me on this planet
looking you in the eye for just a minute
I am not sure that I am strong enough to stand it

the wind blew the suns light across the water
and the pattern formed a vibration I do not get to see often
I wonder if the current is caused by the waving of my own fist
to signal myself that I am dreaming and this does not exist

I watch the water kiss at your bare toes
as you use your finger to touch the cute little minnows
something about them swimming off together touches us both
knowing that we are never really alone while entering the unknown

rain drops catch the falling leaves
sending them towards you and me
we use the song of the blue herrings
to dance in the grown up weeds
and in awe we seen them fly up into the trees continuing to sing
expanding the sound trajectory and the way their vibrations carry
then I realize
this doesn't seem so scary

my car putters along
your sandals on my dashboard
I drive a safe speed
with my arm out the window
you stare at me through the passenger mirror
and all fears hit the dusty road
my hearts scatters off
like a school of cute little minnows

(I imagine)
I am a moth circling around
the same beautiful flower
that a hungry lemur found
I land on the petals
entranced by the sweet smell of the nectar
and the comfort of the weather
I hear the snap of a twig
and every time I have heard that sound
I cease to exist
then a cloud appears and I begin again
my heart is in the right place
but I am not sure where that is

from my childhood
I recall seeing a cocoon
and that strange memory
makes me think of you
I can not explain the feeling of
watching something about to bloom
all the while hoping it will fly home to sooth
a paranoia that my life has seemed to have proved true
I try with all my strength to hold it
but through my fingers it always seems to slip through

I will just turn away and head on back home
I am tired and that road is just too long
to walk with these poorly healed broken bones
I seem to be better at being alone
but I seen that rainbow
I swear I did
appear in front of us
but we did not know
that we will always be kids
and it is just a myth to be grown

eight legs ran around on your carpet
I heard the squeal through the wires
I imagine that you had stomped it
by the loud thump and absent of volume
you don't so much say what you think
but say what you are and in a blink
of a cataract eye I see
you are the painting that life
has created for me
to gaze with wild wonder
and the colors that have been spread apart
come together beautifully
covering my painted over heart

a faintly faded paranoia
slips from my head and drips down my spine
I begin to feel lighter
and I have a better understanding of life
our lives are mere circles of time
blending and bouncing around
and yours seem to have connected with mine

I wonder what it is like to be alive
that slated memory has been wiped
from my pre-evolutionary cycle mind
I lust for the thought of warm blood
rushing through my veins just one more time
though I would explode from the heat
of the ever present blood red sky
doomed to live these eternal days
with blood shot eyes
and highway map shaped scars on my thighs
trying to feel any type of pain
because pain is the confirmation of life

I search the lairs high and low
for any faint sign of my wandering soul
I have climbed the smoldering trees
and I have soiled my clothes
with broken fingernails searching every hole
but where is one lost to go?

visions of everything wrong
the feeling of love lost
the face of a dead person gone
it is all here
and eternity is quite long
I sing 1985 a sad song

an angel rushing down in the blushing sky
pushing cotton clouds into my eyes
floating like god with a devilish smile
the dreams of the fiends on the bathroom tile
scatter like roaches in the flash of light
that flickers from the ceiling in my mind
with my head in my hands I sometimes cry
I have looked for myself in the reflection of time
and no one was there so it must have been a sign
a sign for my future and that spark sure shined
I realized that life can not rewind
like a child when he watches his pet dog die
now I am swimming in beautiful grains of sand
watching the sun fly golden across blooming farm land
insects jump from the ground to the palm of my hand
who could pretend to be alone with this many friends?
who could complain of the end when the blame
is on the moment when things begin?
such a fickle life us mirror machines live
we are focused on we do not see
and in that moment we cease to exist
our hearts die in the inevitable turbulence
of grasping at the fireflies of thought our minds invent

I am the branch
and you are the leaf
our souls are two ants
heading for our tree
on their way to you
by crawling on me
you are the destination
and I am the journey

ghosts live in both of our delicate hearts
in a room with padlocked doors
we have swept up thoughts of them
like dust on a hardwood floor
tossing them out
and thinking of them nevermore

a star fell in my yard that night
unannounced and unnoticed
you were staring at my eyes
I may have seemed unfocused
but I felt you the whole time
the feeling consumed both of us
and then we killed the house lights

I imagine beautifully full trees
housing families of birds who love to sing
and we will dance as their whistles ring
piercing our eardrums then laughing
at the slight sting
because at the same time our hearts skip a beat
we realize we are where we need to be
skipping stones across a steady stream
growling stomachs waiting
for the fruit this will bring
and the leaves that will give us air to breathe
I am laying in my bed staring at the ceiling
fit to be tied knowing you are asleep without me
I can only hope you are having the sweetest of dreams

moisture from her skin
left condensation on the hood of my car
in the dark part of a church parking lot
the insects sound like subtle harps
we laid down on a blanket in the graveyard
using our fingers to connect the stars like dots
into the shape of hearts

she let out a cloud of smoke
then laid back with her head in my lap
with no clothes on
her hair tickled my thigh and I laughed
I made whistling noises in high tones
using a single blade of grass
and my own two thumbs
the same hands that I use to hold her
like I would hold a lady bug

driving her home
I drove better than I ever have
with both hands on the wheel
keeping her safe was my only plan
opening her door
such a hard task for the hand
knowing there are hours in between
opening that door again

she had the longest sidewalk in this town
the touch of her lips in the door way of her house
walking back to my car
the night had a beautiful sound
I took the long way home
just to drive around
and listen to music very loud
with the window down
my hair flew out
creating shapes I have only read about

finally home
I lay my head on my pillow
and close my tired eyes
I see her in a sundress
sending flight to the seeds of a dandelion
I count them..
1....
2.....
3......
4........
5............

the rain falls like brick walls
pounding against my skin
in the same way
you would strike a block of ice
with an ice pick

I need something strange to soothe me
almost willing to host some parasites to use me

stairs
I am usually
climbing them
or I am falling down them
a means to no end
I am addicted
to picking myself up
off of the grass or pavement
over and over again
you, her, and them
my memories
are a separate world that I live in

my unidentified flying heart
re-enters the atmosphere
and breaks apart
it becomes smaller
with each return flight back
from a distant star

we think we are humans
but we are not
we are only thoughts
and thoughts can rot
decay
and break apart
then reassemble themselves
into a better thought
to take its course again
maybe it will be buried
or maybe it will take flight with the wind

it has been months
since I have painted
I take a brush
and move it across the canvas
a face begins to appear
that face I smear
then start over again
illustrating mountains
with snow covered peaks
in front of a lake that shines
surrounded by trees that breathe
and only seen because of me

I lead people to the paths
that will take them
the furthest away from me
should I be hurt?
or flattered
to be the inspiration
behind their awakening?

I want everyone around me
to be happy
and sometimes
I suffer from that reality
but that is ok
every time I bleed
I still enjoy seeing
you all smiling

I climbed a tree
on the edge of the tree line
surrounding my favorite park
someone has broken the limb
the highest one that I could reach
from which I hung my heart
someone has bested me
it used to make me sick
but now I am relieved
that someone has bested me
instead of tasting the high
before ever reaching the leaves
love is not about possession
because that air is not the only
air there is to breathe
there are other trees
and I can not, in good conscience
despise whoever can climb
higher than me

a voice says
"nothing survives the night"
I am alone in this room
watching the light from beneath the shades
become dimmer and dimmer
darkness will come soon
and they will be howling at the moon
I will do some howling too
as the wind sings the dead a somber tune
energy leaves me like colors stretching through the sky
dodging the grains of sand in the infinite blue
and once the blue turns to black
it should find you
feeding your soul
until it explodes and sends the energy back
we create a perpetual cycle of light
because the voice was right
nothing survives the night

I wish I had a few peacocks
because beautiful colors
give me beautiful thoughts
and I could use that warmth
moving through my head
to heat my shivering heart

I wish I were standing
next to a tree
that was just a seed
planted on the same day
at the first moment
the doctor looked at me
I imagine the air
that I would breathe
would be clear and sweet
and the branches would be
covered in beautiful leaves
protecting me

I wish I were a song
we would all sing
I wish we were better
at being human beings
I wish for everyone
to be everything

being here before
I have learned
how to roll the stone
up the hill faster
anything to get this over with
and start again

I am Sisyphus
rolling a boulder with his fists
learning more
each time the night ends

as my feet bleed
I remember every memory
they keep repeating
every defeat
every victory

the world burns around me
no one has found me

it is just me
it always has been
and always will be
up this hill
and back down again
for eternity

this pond is alive
I can see the reflection
of fish swimming in your eyes
the trees are alive
they shelter us
from the leaking sky
we watch droplets make circles
that move like humans
expanding outward
until they disappear out of sight

we conjured spirits in our mind
and let our hearts walk around free
for quite some time
if only to see what they might find

laughing from the tickle
of the moss on our bare feet
as the rain drops ride
on the back of falling leaves
and we can see
every particle we breathe

in the wild weeds
we fall asleep
to the warmth
of the moon breathing

strange beings we are
in the front seat of my car
****** out of our tree
you kept touching me
running your fingers down my arm
my goose bumps looked like galaxies
I watched in slow motion as the cigar
let out a beautifully winding smoke stream
that stretched across the dash
like a blanket that moves
with the sound of our speaking

in between two buses
at a random school
in Davidson county
lost and impatient
you looked at me as if
you did not hate
your surroundings
for the first time
since you met me

with a full tank of gas
and it is the weekend
we drove around for hours
and laughed
we needed to see the product
of dying leaves
and I believe
on those nights
we found exactly what is was
that we were seeking

starving for air
in this cloudy room
gasping for life
with no intention
of leaving any time soon
another day
another f-cking dollar
I hope one day
instead of getting out of bed
I set fire to my sheets instead
then fall back asleep
with the courage
to put a bag over my head
I am only here because of my parents
two kids with nothing better to do
than to smoke dope and make a kid
in the backseat of the car my father
would eventually die in
if there is a point to all of this
someone please tell me
I am running out of theories
the one who stepped in after him
is about to step out
and I have to deal with the fact
that when he does talk
my name comes out of his mouth
and if he goes before I see him
it will be just another hole I live with
another reason to doubt
to seek freedom through love
but the days pass slow
we used to be ants
and now we are slugs
who has time to work for love
when money exists?
and who has the energy to lift a fist
in an effort to fight against
what seems to protects us
providing laws and entertainment
this is mental containment
and it is time to face it
not embrace it

relaxed with a touch of glee
sitting indian style
in my passenger seat
you were tossing smiles at me

there is a mountain
I feel I am atop of
but I am too high
to see far enough down
to witness myself
on the highest of ground

I pretend
my car is a spaceship
and you go along with it
you are words
I have already written
passionate yet delicate
like kisses on the head of a kitten

when you breathe in your sleep
it sounds like whispers from a caterpillar
and the words are meaningful and sweet
I can not help but to believe
that you are an illusion to me

I feel as if I am myself
staring into the eyes of myself
and you are yourself
staring into the eyes of yourself
we are symmetry at its best

I knew you were dead
on arrival in my chest
and you lie there with the rest

my heart is full of human bones
remains of people who were called back home

my life has been a series of pipes
twisting and turning through walls
of an old tattered house
I always find myself at the front door
unable to understand the lock
imagining what it would be like to walk out

I knew I had to be dead
the day I let love into my chest
and now I live here with everyone else

make something magical
write something moving and profound
Brian, make everyone proud
be it words, paint, or sound
Brian, don't let everyone down
do something smart
be someone great
stop being idle
and take your foot off of the brake
let life happen
even if it slaps you in the face
take a f-cking chance
stop being weak and afraid
people love you Brian
all the while you sit alone
thinking of ways to make them love you more
never satisfied of anything
like the women you blame yourself for
just grow up Brian
get out of your head
stop thinking
start experiencing
do something spiritual
make something magical
and write something moving and profound

I have let myself down
after I have led myself
around by the neck
through this town
the seeds I have planted
grew into oak trees
and their shade combined
creates a greenhouse house effect over me
there is moisture everywhere
be it in the air or beading down my cheek
staring out of a window
my reflection is someone I wish not to be
I embrace my loneliness as it if solving something
I tell these little lies to myself then I justify them
by the effortless excuse of being born human
accepting my mistakes without the ambition
needed for the act of redemption
I lay stagnant, a standing shaded puddle
with my thoughts drowned out by the screeching sound of
mosquitoes hatching and the erratic ******* of my blood

the soil is soft and fertile
I have this pocket fulls of seeds
but I am scared to death of dropping them

I fold my hands into puppets
and make shadows of myself on the wall
one hand is a building
the other is me climbing to the top
and jumping off

my cats began to swat at the shadows
completely focused and amused
I use my hands to make them dance in tune
with the music I am listening to
the smoke in the room added a certain ambiance
along with the perfect amount of moon light shining through
I almost forget I am sitting next to you
until you rest your head on my shoulder
then raise your hand, making yourself a flower in bloom
growing from the base of the building
I jump off and land into you

my cats bump into each other and we do the same
lying on the carpet, staring at the ceiling
watching the candle flame react from the wind sneaking in
syncing our heartbeats together with its rhythm
feeling higher than anything living

me, you, and a chocolate blunt with honey
at the end of your cul-de-sac
me, you, sitting intertwined in my back seat
watching the cars on the other street pass

you lay back in my arms
and look up at me
only then do I see what you see
the one I love staring back at me

the herb has us connected with everything
this car, we have to leave
with my arm around you
we walked the sidewalks
then lied down in the middle of a street
watching the moon in awe, too amazed to speak
for hours it seemed
I helped you to your feet
then chased you until you found the trees
and there in the shadows we fell to the ground
you put your hands all of over me
the blades of grass seemed unusually welcoming

we were exposed lovers under the stars
that no one else could see
being young and naive
is the true meaning of being free

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

there is an angel on the couch
a special kind of sacred
I am afraid to touch for the risk of breaking
a soul as wise as it aching
I will tread slow and safely
with myself on my sleeve
I can only hope she comes to me

there is an angel on the couch
I can see her spirit vibrating through her skin
she is squirming
hoping no one will notice
but earlier
outside
one of her feathers took off with the wind
and I am the only one who seen it

there is an angel on the couch
and I am a man too shy to open my mouth
failing to display my wittiness and sincerity
the vessels I use to send my love out
but I am floating, vulnerable in the sea
with the over whelming fear that I might drown

there is an angel on the couch
with a stereo and collection of cds
of people I know about
I chose a song
and as it song started
I sat back down unnoticed

"I hear a voice..."

there is angel on the couch
with her eyes closed and moving around
with her hands in the air
disrupting the sloth like clouds
she is in perfect sync with the sound

I am staring down at my knees
just wandering
around in my head
trying to remember to breathe
I am high beyond all reasoning
and the angel gives me an unfamiliar feeling
just sitting there on the couch
still not sure she can see completely see me
I am just a simple mortal peasant
and she has earned beautiful white wings
then without hesitation
I leave
and still, to this day
the reason escapes me

kites bounce around over head
as our skin softens the sand
noticing the mathematics in the waves
the tide nips at our feet then runs away

as the water retracts
the sand starts to look like my carpet
then I realize where I am
on the floor in my bedroom
with a memory in my hand
and it bites like a fire ant
the sting feels the same as the rest of them

birds chirp from their nests
in the trees above our heads
and a spider web on the swing set
the intricate design has me fascinated

as the sunlight bounces off rather slow
the web starts to look like my cracked window
then I realize where I am
looking outside at life happening
with a feeling in my heart
that rattles like a screen door in the wind
it feels like I am walking out then back in again

I live with an altered state of mind
sometimes I believe that I believe in something
but there is nothing that I can honestly define
and I am beginning to wonder why I even try
wind chimes ding in my head
blending like a flock of birds being fed
I am bleeding internally in my legs
and the burning sensation is becoming addicting
afflicting pain on yourself is a symptom
of constant wishful thinking
not seeing the difference between
what is real and what is reality
what is true and what is a fallacy

people are beginning to gather
watching me climb the brick of this building
the breeze bounces against my face
I look up to the glowing sky
as I toss my anchored rope into your window
scaling the wall I begin to see sirens
but I am not scared, I jump into your room
I remove my black clothing and let my hair down
you take out those tubes and change into normal clothes
we walk out like we were just two people visiting you
treading the hallway slowly and careful how we move
trying not to let the paranoia gives us a *****
I do not want to get weird in here but I will if I have to
I swear on my little insect friends, blankets, and the moonlight
those cameras will capture us leaving here tonight
everything seems smooth as we walk through the door
then there are blue lights.....
but they were on the other side of the complex
we watch the reflection in the side mirrors
driving away as you use your fingernails to split the cigar
three cops drive by right as the lighter sparks
I take a left down a side street shaded and dark
the only light you can see is the fire from the blunt being passed
back and forth between two friends on the hood of a car

I have an ax
and I am headed your way
they can chain the doors
and grease the floors
I am going to execute your escape
and we will be two shadows in the rain
skipping to my car and driving away
and all of the witnesses will claim
to have only seen what seemed to be
a lighters dancing flame
we have found a witch!
setting fire to Mary Jane
and laughing a bit
we imagine we are in a plane
the engine roars
and we will soar into a new day

there is a comfort that comes
with having more than enough indica
more than enough alcohol
to drink away these thoughts
as I stumble through the hallway
knocking pictures of myself off of the wall
not trying to catch them as they fall
stepping on the glass then walking off

happiness seems infinite
then the night turns
I begin burning paper
in my back yard
I have nothing better to do
and no one better to be with
higher than anything I can see
I am looking down at myself
I can see everything so clear
but I am always blurred out
censored
I am a puzzle I can not crack
loving people
and hating their memories
I keep to myself
but my mind crowds me
with everyone I have lost
pecking at me like a night bird
asking questions about thoughts
I try to drown it out with music
but the alcohol that I am abusing
reminds me that I have no clue
as to what it is I am doing
I do know that
I am beginning to loathe this world
you can not just be a recluse anymore
I am even scared of seeing ghosts
at the convenient store
once I close my front door
I feel that nothing and no one can come close
and those ghosts are no more
they are still knocking at my window
I put my headphones on
then stay out of view by sleeping on the floor

love
is standing in the cold when you are sick
if only to put a smile on the face
of the person you are with
who wants to ride the ferris wheel
if only to sit next to you
and cradle you
in moment of weakness
as your stomach turns from the height
you just want to leave
then you realize
you are looking at your reflection
in her eyes
love
is having an epiphany
that even though you are feeling weak
there is no where else you would rather be

the chemicals that make up my body
are separating
and finding new homes
new souls
I fold a piece of paper in the shape of a swan
and swat at the flies
as I rise
and become one
with everything, everyone
there are puddles of people everywhere
I sat my swan on one
and the wind carried it away
puddle to puddle
person to person
I do not know anymore
I make things
and then give them away
watching as they circulate
just to end up in a closet
some are lost and forgotten
the paint is faded
and dry rotted
I begin to hate a talent
that I was born with
that I inherited
expectations will break a man
and rejection will make a man go mad
I am sad
everyone gets sad sometimes
and this is just one of those times
I am not rejected
but overly loved
and that makes me sad
people die everyday
and I am worried about who I am?
as I lay in my bed
under my sheets with air conditioning
a pantry full of food and two cats
all the while children starve to death
and I have the nerve to be sad
maybe I am just disappointed with myself
and that is why
I am only concerned with everything else

there is a cloud over my head tonight
and I keeping biting down on my lip
the blood is a red only seen
when halving a watermelon
that is perfectly ripe
I will eat till my stomach bleeds
seeing how far I can choke up the seeds
cheering as they take flight
I can only sleep in the dark
and I break my own heart
to dim the light

there is a dead plant
on my front porch
that I keep watering
out of habit
out of curiosity
out of desperation
I want to watch something grow
in front of me
something to hold in my hands
something
anything that I have made on my own
when all hope is lost
I want to be the one to bring life
back into a comfortable home
even if that means
that I live alone
and end up just a lonely box of bones

I held her head until my hand touched the pillow
then as I pulled my arm back
she used her fingers to entangle mine
and looks up to me and says
with her other hand in my hair
she says "I feel free with you Brian
                  like I am being who I truly am"
the yellow glow of the moon
circles like little canaries around the room
I can hear her heart
boom
boom
boom
emitting our own light
it is impossible to wear clothes
because of the heat that radiates
when we are this close
I open a window
and I follow her out into the unknown
during the scary hours
courageous and bold
alone and at home
laying together
giggling by the light tickling
of feeling the grass grow
I used my finger to draw
her face in the sand
she smeared it with her hand
and with a smile on her face
she says "please, draw it again"

you are a permanent ink
and I cannot seem to get my fingers clean
no one will shake hands with me
they are afraid of the things
that I wear on my sleeve

I am always arguing semantics
with strangers on the street
staring at the people in the park
plucking the leaves from a living tree
I want to furiously say something
but I just let them be
the leaves will grow back eventually
and maybe that couple will fail
and that living relationship forgets how to breathe
from the outside karma is amusing
boredom has led me to a road dark and eerie
and I am not fearing any reaper reaping
welcome to my life
irony
I am the reaper
reaping the ever growing seeds
that I always tend to plant near spring
never prepared for the yield
the end of summer brings
left with the weight of everything
I feed myself until I have only one option
to explode all that I am
through any medium
other people can see
or hear
or read

I signed my name backwards
on you in your sleep
with permanent ink
when you look in the mirror
you will remember me
and be forced to walk around
with your own pocket full of seeds

no ordinary double sided mirror
pondering thoughts
until those thoughts were clearer
in a range of out stretched arms
a velvety skin
cannot hold on
turns to smoke
it rises then disappears
a superstitious mind will whither in time
as intelligence grows like an invasive vine
up the back
around the spine
and into the mind
a tumbleweed of a distant thought
rolls on
I have laid so long
my ambition has turned to stone
never sleeping right
never sitting still
approaching everything
as if it were too good to be real

I have your face
I keep it in my mind
in a compartment
that any injury would not find
you will be with me until I die

I have your heart
and maybe
that is why it is always broken
and falling apart

I have your taste
and imagine that you would hate
all the things that I hate
and I know
we love the same things
brunettes and art
and the way mister plant sings
the calmness the dead bring
and one day you will dance with me
just like you do in my dreams

I knew a girl who had footprints
on the rug in front of her mirror
and when she stood there
she would break things
there was glass
everywhere
all of the time
I watched her climb to the roof
with her wings out
screaming at the world
who pushed her around
and made this place hell
she went to fly
but fell
as I lay beside her
I question myself
while trying not to get sick
from the smell

take all hope with you
for I am the door
and you are the lock
we will wash up near the rocks
but now
we are where the horizon ends
and the sky begins
we remind ourselves
that we get sea sick

mighty giants moving slow
we are but two souls
constructed careless and bold
like a students mural on a middle school
I let go without saying
goodbye to you

there is nothing that I want
maybe a bridge or two
to burn with you
and you should bring a few
we will light a fire
and design something new
sprinkle snow out on the roads
because we hate cars
and it would be fun to wreck a few
smoking in the woods
in perfect weather
two lonely people
being lonely together
collecting fallen feathers
using wisteria vines
to thread winter sweaters
making masks from mud
scaring children
just to watch them run
not concerned with
what may or may not
become of us

me and terrible thoughts
fight like cats and dogs
flies and frogs
trees and chainsaws
I want to cut my left hand off
my positives may out weigh my negatives
but that comes at a high cost
pressure
when you hate attention
and would do anything to "get lost"
fade into the wind
disappear into the dark
I am a sparkler that will not spark
these are the scary hours
and I have become accustomed
to the hole growing in my heart
staring at the window
I wonder
when will my tombstone
litter the graveyard?

kissing at my neck
she burns holes
through my chest
with her fingertips
I should stop her
but...
I love the feeling
of endorphins being released
it is my worst addiction yet
she cracks a rib or three
and begins
to insert her hand into me
sliding the tip of her index finger
around the bulb of my heart
until it rested in her palm
I seen the devil in her eyes
it revealed itself to me
she had a dead face
she had turned off
all of the love
she had for me
then plucked out
the source of my energy
I watched as she became
smaller
and smaller
as I fade into the light
and enter the tunnel
I begin to see that this all
begins over again
creating a different approach
to a world you already know

I entered in as a child
back in '85
spent all of the time
to learn I have
been here a few times

I creep the city streets
in the shadows
watching the spot
where she sleeps
I have memorized her routine
when she arrives
when she leaves

I catch her at the lake
where we were first alone
face to face
it is ironic
that we thought we heard
a dead body splash the water
that night
we laughed
but now
it is not so funny
it just has to be done
chasing her down
I tackle her from behind
turning her over to see my eyes
as I rip open her shirt...
I take my knife
to slice open her skin
and push my hand in
grabbing what keeps her breathing
and not doing anything
but sewing her back up
and letting her keep on living
knowing that I had the
chance for revenge
but my love for her
kept me from going
through with it
chasing her is my sentence
and her watching me walk away
is her punishment

this is hell
and this is what goes on