I
  ran
        out
               of
                   words
or
     maybe
                  just
                          heart.

She told me
I reminded her of LSD.
I always changed her world
but it was guaranteed that
I would leave.

My comfiest sweater.
My most relaxing t-shirt.
That one cap, that belt.
These things I can't take back,
stolen from past loves
at the exact moment we began to cry.
I starve for the chance
to wash them in smoke,
douse them in beer
so these clothes are no longer theirs
but mine.

We flipped them all over
so they were all lucky.
It'd been a bad week
inhale them all, make it smokey
puffs of gold broke air
killing us slow like we wanted
giving plain 'ol death flare
as he shriveled around haunted
grounds seen by us
throw another body on the pile
we can handle it now, tough.
mouths filling with bile
so we spit it out to the porch
disrespectful, perhaps,
but no more than many outside of church
then we sit back and relapse
hoping this next gasp
might be our last, too bad
these cigarettes **** us
s        l          o           w         l       y

When what makes them
t i c k. is known,
they are thrown
away like beer cans
in sand.
My wife must be
a lady
I will never understand.

She said my celtic sign
was a willow tree
Tough though slight
and in touch spiritually
She was the Nutwood
swinging to and fro
but the combination
of those signs was good
it was a shame I moved away
but she doesn't know
that what's left of willow me
is nothing but a burnt out
husk and a stump to sit on
and weep.

Bottoned to the jaw
stone cold face to thaw
roughed and raw under
the black cloud dress shirt,
loud like thunder
as a I skirt the jungle
that is the tangle of bangles
and bands, hanging from wrists
followed by hands, twisting
to grab clear courage
with a flourish
Gulp, gulp, gulp
another plunge, more lurching
spiked up exterior like a sea urchin
lurking in the deep, dark ocean
Slowly getting dull
I'm emptier the more I am full
fire slowly flitting out,
I'm a dying coal
a half burned ember
put out by the snow of December
just pretending to be fire
I'm happy (I'm a liar)
but I never tire
of drowning
lurching, lurching
prickly again, I'm a sea urchin

I'm petering out,
the afterburners already kicked in
fueled to the last drop, doubt
taking over my eyes
when I see this small world
from the big skies
Crocidial smiles and alligator grins
trying to lure a fool in
but I'm a picese, I can swim
Gills filled to the brim with green
All I want is that cash, that greed
If love and laughter can't fuel me
fill the tank with money.

This one's for you pops
because I know you'd love it
eh em.
I seen the galaxy fall in on itself
painted on a shelf, when I was twelve
Now I hear kids crying and think of myself
maybe I missed a thing or two
just blanked it out
you and mom, late nights, wines, shouts
hoping I don't follow your stream like trouts
do their whole **** lives.
I remember the drives though, where you
wouldn't come back, wait, wait, still not back
heart attack, run away and grab the sleeping bag
but I wish I couldn't remember that,
left me a little broken, dad.
Don't worry though, I'm fixing
on the mend, erm, but about that college
yeah I'm not really in....
That thousand bills you spilled for my birthday,
spent it on flight lessons and sorbet.
It's up to you if you want to support meh,
cause I'm getting along fine without it anyway.
That won't all make sense to you
but hell,
I guess this was really just another one
for myself.

The slightness of soft
skin rubbing past
is in the past,
but I don't mind that.
In fact, I'm chugging along
despite the warmth of
lips being gone.
Stay strong.
That withdrawal is nothing compared
to the gut wrenching, stomach stomping
of a feeling I get when I realize
I don't feel any thing toward
anyone now,
that I
          don't
                                                      care.

In all honesty
I forgot I had
a
               dad.

The dryer spins it's cycle out
heated and roaring
Stout through out the restless night
spent churning the day over
in my mind.
Blunt, M, saved lives, little escape
got woven into stories about
SoCal amigos, tattoos and lingo
on top of that M, on top of that hill
it was her that tripped, but me that f
                                                               ­ e
                                                                ­  l
                                                             ­       l

Pages of intricate ink
speak of nights spent
white knuckled at
the sink.
Not meant for anyone,
just there to be.

"I thought hurricane season was over."
hovers like the rotors
dicing air that we breath
out smoke into
"Will you fly me?"
"Of course."

(I'm yours)

Razor...sharp
grabbing cans
filled with blunt graves
on a sunset chase
until dark
Coffee and **** raiders
sharp.

Drift wood fences
protected the garden
complete with iron gate
and a little man
whose whole life is to wait.
The frame, sleeping against
the fence
has an empty mind
much like mine
kept safe with ivory fences
and organic gates
envious of the Waiter
who gets to stay here forever
and
                            wait...

You never did **** like that for me
chillin in my lap, with a lighter and a sack
tickets to shows and suckin' it clean
Funny little nicknames, bed games,
thinking about head thangs.
Trips to Chico, down south, or left and right
two lines in the morning and two tabs at night
decided to be a bad ***** now, come freestyle
and I'll put you in your place
run laps around you the whole ******* race
leave you in the dust without a ******* trace

Step back, breathe
dry heave, dry heave
Switching lanes like a drunk man
swerving on the highway, I'm ******* my teeth
coked up going 90, 0 in my sheets.
Blown out bass busting out **** beats
Thought those 2 years made you a hard ***** *****?
You're a lie ***** *****, you don't even try ***** *****
I'm glad I got to know ya but now I'll kick your *** to the curb like a ******* state patrola!

I can hear the ghost
playing down the hall
with the elevator doors
elevator doors
Open, close, open, close
just like my eyes
I've never felt so close
to the elevator ghost

People pass him every day
on their way to school
on their way to school
They press his buttons
and stand on his floors
open, close, open, close
just like my eyes
just like my eyes

Posted in a dispensery
Coffee, magazine
"Politics of ****"
Dyed hair, smiles
hippie home
SC

The beat played
Oh how it played!
and the sun came
with rave, laser waves
to bring in the day
Oh what a day!

The blanket my first love
gave me, still lays atop my bed
Not because I wish to have
back the days on couches
the pictures, family, comfort
but because it was made by a
best friend
and I never forget my friends.

Wind swept through the courtyard
            blowing
                                   ­          dust
                            around
                         ­                                                            .
For now, dust is
                              enough

                                                                ­.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
two bones and two bowls
legs like twigs
and the only thing that
makes it feel like
Saint Paddy's Day
is my corned beef sandwich

How many times have I
just been a line
scrapped on a page?
I am more than ink,
blue stains of pain
on some thrown sheet.
I have skins and bones,
eyes that see,
and a mind that knows
that I am not that bundle
of metaphors and smilies,
tossed about with pronouns,
ifs, whens, has beens.
I'm not the flat print out
captured by some lens.
Don't even try to entwine me
in song lines,
I'm a person, with desires
fears, addictions, lies.
I'm just like everyone else
showing the better half
of two sides.
So this is me telling you
I'm tired
of being something that inspires
I'm tired of part of me
being in your notebooks, yours.
I'd much rather
be a human being.