These are the words
you wish you'd spoke
out loud when she
shoved her tongue
in your mouth.

Guttural screams
that force the veins
to the surface of
that porcelain skin.
Cast to be broken
in my arms like
every single note
that pours out of that
******* busted stereo.

So, hide behind that ink pen
and wit you're so proud of.
But I know the truth.
You're like a child
lost in a shopping mall.
Alone, clinging to passersby.
Wanting to ask the clerk to
page your family, but too
shy to suggest.

So, hide behind your so-called
friends
and flee from your idiosyncrasies.
But, you and I both know you're
a deserter.
smile and laugh with them,
but you're still coming home
with me.

So, hide behind your charisma
and guile. You're not as clever as
you think because, I'm still here when
you close your eyes
And you're still taking me home
with you.

String me up like a marionette.
Pull my strings, watch me dance.
Dance my way through relationships,
friendships, sinking ships.
Watch me give you an Oscar-gold
performance. You can't tell that
I'm as hollow as the o in love.
As hollow as your smile
to everyone but me.

You trip over apologies
like I stumble into love,
accidental and bruised.
They dribble out the side
of your mouth and onto the
letter you're writing for the
benefit of you and you alone.
You'll tuck it beneath my
windshield wipers, whispering
the words that you always
fall back on, "I'm sorry."

This is my letter to you,
rash and unproofread
like bouts of teenage
poetry and angst.
Unconcentrated disgust
and rage that bleeds through
the pages like ink from a
well and blood through a
bandage, that crimson
that you wrapped around
your body in the form of a
slinky little dress that matched
the carpet in my apartment
perfectly.

You tasted like wine and adventure
with a tint of regret and poise
that you tried to hide behind
slang and lipstick, but I'm sorry
Darling, you can't play the game
like I can, and you won't last,
so fold your ******* hand
and cash in your chips,
you won't need them where
you're going.

Your breath on my neck
and you're seeing stars,
but you can't play the game
like I can, and my foot is
already out the ******* door.

But, this is my letter to you
written on the embroidered
napkins on the nightstand
in the hotel room where you
sold your soul for cheap wine
and a good ******* time.
You can't play the game like
I can, and you're just
scribbled on a hotel napkin.

I see you do the things
you do with a hidden grace
that burns the ineptitude
from my limbs like a match,
smoldering underneath
my lips like a whispered word.
Chasing pride and happiness
through my veins like a shot
of whiskey. Warm, embracing.
Fire scarring the fields of
neuroses from my mind.

She only tells the truth
in the mornings.
Sunlight cracking through
the windows across her
face just as sure as the grin
that I put across her face.
Whispered words that
make her grin echo across
my face.

She only tells the truth
in the mornings,
but I wouldn't trade the nights
for the world.

Yesterday you were swallowed by the sea.
Gasping and screaming air bubbles
and smoke.
Flailing and laughing your laugh
that made the room raise their
eyebrows in suspicion.

Yesterday the sky swallowed you.
Somewhere in the vicinity of
Howland Island.
Without a trace, without a sound
save for a single cry for help.

Yesterday the earth swallowed you
cracking and splitting like a
peanut out of its shell.
Suffocating and squeezing the
taste of soil and decay down
your throat and into your lungs.

I find myself
scribbling little
words onto paper
trying to find a way
to explain my thoughts
and idiosyncrasies
to you. The way I look
at you, and the way
I take your hands into
mine as they clench
the gearshift, just to be close
to you.

And since you're not by my side
the pages remain as blank as my stare.

Chasing passions through pulsations
beneath our skin. Sighing
sighs that make angels smile
and devils cry.

Skin warm beneath secret fingertips,
trading lines back and forth
like a hand-me-down Casanova
indulging in each other, and
each other alone.

Ripped apart at the seams
like a stuffed animal, stained
and worn through the years
of abusive love.

Pulling together again
through the actions of
an unwilling heart
doing anything possible
just to hear you whisper
"Blue."

And all of my cigarettes taste
stale since you've become
concerned with my health.

So move the pieces into play
and everything'll go according
to plan. A subtle smirk
and spark of confidence, pawn to D5.

Locking eyes, you're playing a game
and you don't even realize. Your skills
are amateur at best, and I'm a cold
calculating monster.
Queen to D4.

Before long, pieces lay in puddles
of glass on the outskirts of the
battlefield of perfect little black and
white squares. You've lost your little
soldiers and your little court with a
wink and a laugh.
Rook to D8, checkmate.

I know you've got me
right where you want me
but the thing is,
I don't really mind
bending over backwards
just to make you smile.

So go ahead and use
me, just like you always
do. Go ahead and take
what you can get and
move the **** on like
so many parasites
that bite to break skin.
I'll take the pain
and use it just to make you
smile.

So flip a coin
take a chance.
Roll the die.
let me have this dance.

We've only got this night
So cash in your chips
and make a break
You've only got this one chance
to take this kiss.

So flip a coin
take a chance.
Grab by hand
and let's just
run, run, run.

What are you looking
for, little scrapper?

Behind these eyes
and words lies a
man you can't defeat.
His language beguiles
and deceives, like
the Opposer, and you
carry no flaming sword.

Wish I knew
just what it felt
like to have
everything
figured out
just
the
way
you do.

But my ideas fragment
and my sentences crumble
like secrets whispered
in the basement dark.

Wasting away in a hospital bed
hair falling in clumps on the sheets
and veins protruding the skin like
copper ore.

Taking doses of therapy in trickles
down the plastic tube that burrows
in my arm like so many rabbits.
Pressing the button to relieve the
agony.

So when I leave this world
behind, remember
I'll be just fine, I've got my
words all picked out,
I know just what I'll say
to He who makes.

And if He laughs at me,
I'll know what I suspected
was always true. Just a lonely
child playing building blocks
with hearts and souls.

So when I leave this world
behind, remember
I'll be just fine, I've got my
words all picked out,
I know just what I'll say
about you and I.

Goosebumps crawl across my skin
and the hairs on the back of
my neck and arms stand straight up.
There's a hole in the pit of my
stomach that's being filled with bile,
and **** and vinegar, transforming
myself into a hate-spewing,
relationship-destroying monster.
It's been this way, ever since
you gave me up.

I'm smoking cigarettes
to the filiters, inhaling
carcinogens and rat poison
and urea like oxygen,
while you're dancing,
dancing around words
and the bedroom floor.

Heather, will you come back home?
I'm tired of being alone like
a drunk on Christmas morning.
Mourning Ground Zero
where the bomb went off,
and the crater still stands,
a scar on the earth and in my
mind to remind me that the
past is permanent.
It's permanent.

We're like burning bridges, baby.
Fast and for real.
Feeling a fire that is fueled by
arguments and reconciliations.

We're like the fall of an empire,
so subtle and so pure.
Collapsing into each others arms
like the Walls of Troy.

We're like Bonnie and Clyde,
rampaging through life without
a care for anyone or anything
but us.

Needing only us, to set us free.
Whispering words beneath the
shade of trees, hearing you ask me
if I shall love you always.
And I always answer, 'til the end
of the world, angel.

Needing only us, to set us free.

I've got a face for black eyes,
and I'm sick and tired of your *******
lies.
Sweetly slipping off the forked tongue
you hide so elegantly behind your
pearly
white
smile

So, paint me on canvas
and I'll scribble you
in my little notebook
with references on your character
filling the margins like water
overflowing from a class, Incapable
of being constrained by
such a vessel.

Etch me with a pencil,
draw the side of me
that nobody can glimpse
but the artist.
Shade me intentionally
and pure because you
know just what to
do, turning a piece
of paper into life.

I'll make a crude
caricature of you
with lines drawn into
letters that can do
something so beautiful
no
justice
at
all.

And I know just why
the willow cries
in the dark, with no one
to comfort him
but the bark and
leaves that cling to
his body like a
leech to swollen skin

I want to be the one
who holds your hand
all the time.
I want to be the one
who gets to call
you mine.

So make me scream
in disgust and delight
under your touch that
holds the weight of the
world just beneath the
pores and prints.

Make me cry
in sorrow and joy
with your lips
as they push against
mine like a car crash
or a freight train picking
up speed as it heads straight
for the station.

Make me laugh
in irony and sincerity
beneath your gaze
that haunts my
dreams and thoughts
like ghosts in the garden

So, go ahead and push.
It's easy if you try.
Just go ahead and fall.
With no one to catch you,
be free, and push.
It's so easy and
so free.

Go ahead, breathe.
Inhale, exhale, like
a cancer patient.
Deep and gasping.
It's easy if you try.

So, go ahead and laugh.
Carefree and childish
like the days when
the snow feel fast
and deep.
It's easy if you try.

So, go ahead and cry
just like you do when
you go home to your
empty apartment
and crawl cowardly into
your bed.

So, go ahead and push.
It's easy if you try.
Just go ahead and fall.
With no one to catch you,
be free, and push.
It's so easy and
so free.

When you're down and out
you can look up from that
gutter they threw you in
and I'll be standing there
with a smirk on my face
and a hand outstretched.

So, spit and my feet and
claim you don't need my
help, when we both know
you do. Scramble around
in the mud like swine,
because we both know
that's exactly what you are.
And my hand's still outstretched.

I know where you hide
in the shower stall
for hours at a time,
letting the steam
and vapor cleanse
your soul like so
many unwanted
prayers.

I know where you hide
in plain sight, with a boy
on your arm and a smile
on your face like a child
on a bicycle.

I know where you hide
in my bed, with your arms
wrapped around my neck
and lips placed oh so
delicately on my neck.

Everyday she smiles at the mirror
and kisses it soft and pure.
Then leaves a note signed with
XOXO
on the bedside table.

You're playing
on the phonograph
in my basement.
On repeat and shuffle,
scrambling back and forth
across memories, conversation
pieces like an orchestra
tying together my heart
with yours with
each vibration
across the needle.

"You smoke too many cigarettes"
she claims with the sun beating
on her face like her father
Drunk and heavy-handed.
"I'm worried about your health"
Her hand clutching my hand
like the Moon to the Earth,
altering tides and currents
thoughts and memories.
Occupying every conceivable
second of every single day.

Looking for answers at the
bottom of a bottle like
it's the antidote to the
poison pulsating through
your veins, harsh and burning
like a California forest fire.

Indulging yourself
in people and places
that are so comfortably
unfamiliar. Scrambling
for another hit,
another drink,
another,
another.

Running from your past
with an empty glass
in one hand and a burnt
out cigarette in the other.
Smiling all the time, nobody
knows just what you're hiding,
behind that ****-eating grin.

Take my hand, and we'll
figure this out. Take my
hand and we'll leave this
******* town in a cloud
of dust and smoke.
And I'd do just
about anything to hear
you laugh again.
Anything,
anything,
anything.

Stick the headphones
in your ears and close
your eyes. Listen to the
words and throw off your
disguise. It's the one place
you can go to, and be yourself
in your head, in your head.

Dot your eyes, and paint
your lips in crimson red
straighten your crinkled
shirt and laugh at the mirror,
it's time for a night on the town,
so throw back a shot and grab
your ******* keys.
It's time for a night on the town,
can't be yourself in this *******
town. Can't be yourself.

Dance the dance in front
of the crowd, give them
the performance of your
career, and take a bow in
front of the toilet, and accept
your laying ovation, in the motel
room with the boy who said
he'd take you home.

Cracked walkways like smiles
cracked in a hallway
at the side of the house
lead the way to my crooked little
house. Where the lies
are dim and the air is cold.
We have special things to do
in my house
where the air is thick
and lies are old.
Snakes cling to the walls like
wet shirts in my house
where the foundation is sick
and the cries are mold.
Special things to do, I say
Special things, indeed.
Everything is special in my house
where the smiles are slick
and the eyes are cold.
There is a special hole
in the basement of my house.
Where the lights are shaded
and the nights long.

And the hole grows.

And you always know just what
to say to keep me on the edge
of my seat, biting my nails
in anticipation and rage.

Passing the ball back and forth,
playing the game, we've
obviously grown out of.

And I'm miserable, merciless
and alone, you're miserable,
hopeful, and alone.

I can't keep my eyes off
your legs in that black
dress that you wear
with hidden elegance
that appears on the edges
of your smile. Faint. Shining.

As your lips tremble
underneath my touch
I know I've been
blind before this
moment.

How can
one so delicate
and pretty, oh
so pretty, destroy
herself with each
and every glance
in broken mirrors
and shattered
glass.

You've conditioned yourself
not to care, but I'm still
standing on the corner
with rain pouring down my
back like the lies that pour
from your mouth, bitter
and so ******* obvious.

You've conditioned yourself
not to care, but I'm still
by your side, trying to hold
your hand, with a reassuring
smile and a promise that everything
will be just fine, as long as you take
the time and try.

So this is how it is.
What life has become,
a fleeting chase for
the next **** and
the next buzz.

What a long way
we've come from
our childhood dreams
of space voyages,
and gunfights.
Presidencies and
marriage.

So, when you find
the girl downtown
with the smile of a
saint and the weight
of sin on her shoulders,
look her in the eyes
and nod. She understands.
She understands.

She'll look you
right back, never
glancing away and smile
the smile of a saint,
she's asking for help,
but isn't really sure how,
like a child in school. So,
just look her in the eyes
and nod.

You could offer your
hand to her, but she
won't take it, she refuses
to be a burden, like a martyr,
she only wants to help.
So just look
her
in the eyes
and
smile, because she understands
she
understands.

So with pictures and
letters burned, where do
you go after you've been
baptized in fire? Flames
licking your lips and words
like kisses from lovers past.

After all, when it's said
and done, you're just
lines scribbled in a green
felt journal and I'm
the least of your concerns.

it's like a smile
Simple and contagious
spreading from person to person
infecting everything it comes
in contact with
crippling them at the knees
and swelling their stomachs
till they burst.

I'm scribbling little notes
on the back of my hand
to show you that I'm not
the person you traded
kisses like punches in the
front seat of your car. Breathing
your name in a cloud of ink
that eats through this paper
like a thousand lies through my soul.

I'm not the same person
you traded punches like
kisses with in the front seat
of your car. I'm not.

I wanna breathe in smoke
and exhale brimstone.
I wanna rage against the
fallacies of the world and
chew on shattered glass.
I want to make life meanigful
and true, like so many novels
and short stories.
But it's like searching for
answers in something completely
mundane and pointless like
smiles in a grocery store.

You crash lips like I crash cars.
You smile smiles that make me want to die.
You make me want to live.
You make me want to try.
You.
You.

You laugh, you cry.
I lie, I lie.
You love me.
You hate me.

I'm weak. I can't do this.
I'm weak. I'm not a man.
I'm a boy.
I.
I.

We're stupid. We're cute.
We're perfect. We're life.
We.
We.

Don't you know that
I would have died for you
like a nameless martyr
on a cross, blood trickling
down my brow like the sweat
you used to induce.

Don't you know that
I would have lived my life
just for you, living on, just like
you told me to, never calling
your name, never bringing you
back.

Don't you know that
I would have killed for
you like so many starcross'd
lovers, needing only you
to survive. The antidote
to the poison beating
through my heart.

You told me once,
"Sometimes when you
fall, you fly."
I didn't believe you
at the time,
because it's such
an awful thing to
fall. Such an awful
thing.

And to fly? To soar
above the clouds like
a bird? How unnatural
and silly. But you told
me once, "Everything
changes and nothing
is truly lost."
And, I'm no longer
afraid to fly.