it feels like,
before you
composition was just theory.

i haven't felt the strength radiate from her bones,
nor have i seen her eyes through mine.
regardless, i'll pick up and shine every penny
if'n it'll take me to her.


sitting crossleg at a bridge unfinished,
ready to know what's on the other side.
 eager enough that i'm almost willing to trudge through whatever muck they're trying to save me from.

i can see- over the wires and wet cement, the rubble and the river- her shadow playing with those from trees and bees and other beings. i hear her laughter on the south east side of the town she's living, and i feel it radiate within me, fuelling embers and coaxing them to grow into unmanageable flames.

i don't want to love another, dear. this is my last basket, and the rest of my eggs.

i cry everytime i’m thinking of you. i let go of something that i am not sure i will ever get back. so now, i am (naturally) hitting the bottle (through and through) & i have no desire to stop. your habits and smile, your skin & the way it glistens. take me to a field and confess to me, the worst & the best. spark my interests & leave me clueless. i’m desperate and soft, if that’s what you’re still into. i cry out your name at least every other day. is that what you wished to hear? i want to rid myself of you. i want my *** drive back. i want to love someone other than you.

i can't stop picking at the skin under my fingernails
everytime i look at the first picture i ever saw of you

the world switched on me
i have a bran new start.
my slate was cleaned
(only after entering the void)

i was scared and alone,
sure that i would never come back.
sure that i would live 3 lives simultaneously.
tri colored in every which way,
i was stuck in formation
most similar and related to
the fibonacci sequence.

and now that i have overcome this,
and moved through every door.
i still have the keys,
and i know which ones it will take
to open the correct doors to get to you.

i have no fear.

let yourself be the pride in your eyes
wear yourself like a cloth .
remember that [you] are not defined
by visuals or metaphysics .

it drips down,
off the ceiling,
over the candelabrum
and right into my own lap.

i'm sitting catty corner to an old lady that once told me i'd never find love.
now, she is spitting lines like,
"you found it and you let it go."
and "you'll never be so lucky again."

you think i'm not aware?
or that i cannot remember
the spit shake,
the transfer of blood?

i've drained myself emotionally,
almost done so physically.
i'm stammering,
liquifying my insides.
simply put,
i'm laying on my floor
intoxicated
as i am told that the way i handle love,
is no way to handle at all.

all the while,
i'm wish you would come over and cover my ears.
dreaming
you up
laying atop of me while i bury my face into the pillow,
running your hands through my hair and
speaking directly to my brain,
"if you feel it a crash landing, land softly."

can you see the piles,
the broken pens
and the drops of kool-aid coloured blood
all over my bed,
and my floors?

not only in the bedroom,
i'm trailing it all over towns i visit.

i retraced my steps today
for the first time in a long time,
and i found an old draft.
someone else had picked it up,
and drew in shapes
in the places i left blank.

i'll never know when i've got it.
these words can't compete
with the feelings i store up.
if only i wasn't so vague,
i think i could be understood.