has it abandoned me?

There's comfort in crashing
or so you said,
I've crashed and burned
and risen up again,
but I like rock bottom
just as much as floating on clouds,
being in the pits is easy
no reason to get out,
I've lost myself

having the natural dyed,
echoing the color of my eyes,
has added blue blood to
the clear waters while I shower
the hours, days, and ever on
fade away
like the sky from my hair
I think I want to go back
greet the blonde with a welcome
look and old grin
I want the outside to reflect
what is in

She sits watching **** Bill,
concentrated, emotive.
She doesn't know
the angle of her nose,
the ***** of her lips,
her eye lashes flashing as she blinks,
make me slip deeper, deeper
into a place I never want to leave,
her heart, her arms, her life.

Transient. Just passing through.
Flit from here to            there.
A split second shade you catch
in your periphery.
The kind that has you shaking
your head.
Don't worry, I'm see-through,
I can't affect you.
Go back to your tv show or book or whatever.
I'll contort, distort, crinkle up into radio static
so you can hear me faintly
between commercials...

search through the fog
brought on by bottles filled
with poison or potion
lay yourself to rest
beneath the frozen ground
bow down to death
an unlikely friend
take the rotting hand
leave this land far behind
far
far
behind

I'm pulling myself from the cracks
of this apartment.
Scraps of memories,
tell-tale signs of my life.
It's not a harsh break up,
just a "it's-a-long-time-coming"
kind of thing.

I found a new space,
ready to be filled with loving,
songs, art,
a place to share,
to unfold,
to start.

Dad still in his apartment
Mom in the house
changing things to make it hers
not theirs
When I feel the stairs
like they've always been
I wonder when "theirs"
turned in to his and hers
when "ours"
went out the window
was it when Dad started sleeping
in the office
or when the tree came down
or when Dad moved away?
I miss them, I miss them
not Dad or Mom
but
Dad and Mom

money isn't worth much
not to me anyway
but words don't seem to hold weight
any more
sometimes it's a chore
to listen to people talk
their words a babble
just shh for a minute
and enjoy the silence

once I sat atop a mountain
for about eight seconds
it was completely quiet
for about eight seconds
I felt at peace

I missed you today,
on my way home from work.
The horizon was getting dark,
aside from the glow of tail lights,
and I knew that after the front door
closed behind me,
I would be alone.

when melodies I hashed up
in the past pass by my lips
sudden images surface
hips, finger tips
who I was, who I've become
since you made me your biggest
someone
then used your mouth like a gun
breath as bullets
for your Colt .45 breakup
I think my fingers were
on the trigger
I was the one who pulled it
so I lay down my guitar
with a sigh beggining deep inside
then rub my eyes
shove aside thoughts that make me die
hydrate my hate for change
by hitting play on songs
you listened to
it's true, though I'm blue
and still haven't a clue
wether I ever really
loved
you

My room tells about
all the people that haven't been in it
no one has watched a movie
or laid on the carpet
too drunk to stand, but
**** it was a good party
no

The clothes on the floor
whisper loneliness
as if it's the only word they know
how could they have learned
more than that?
they've only seen one soul
just me
pulling at the sheets
afraid at night
dreading that the dark air
might get too

close

I try to pour this light
from my insides,
brighten up the walls
that hold you.

Link to another world,
where the frigid wall dividing the dead and living
dissipates.
If I think hard enough, or empty enough,
will my steps be blessed,
allow me to pass on?
The only way to be sure
is to cross.

I can feel them
                        in my
                           s
                           p
                           i
                           n
                           e

new friends don't feel so real
though I've been working on
building ladders to my walls
it seems either they don't know
how to climb, or they don't care
people in my classes
are already embedded with a group
approaching is foreign
everyone says it just takes time
except my brother
who told me he hasn't made
any true connections since highschool
is it always going to be like this?
Me in a room full
of kindly acquaintances
passing time till I can be alone
where did all my real friends go?

Things seem to
bear down hardest
all at the same time
grandma died
then grandpa had a massive
heart attack
the black of my nails
reflects the dark aspect
that grips me
this shadow that
creeps at the edge of all things
a turning in the weather
bringing the rain
again.

The shades are drawn,
lights off, dark on,
projected documents fill the wall.
The staff, caught up, hinge on little things.
Big things to them
but I've checked out, far off,
wishing this time was with you,
sailing around the moon,
toasting champagne to stars,
far from the river of cars and exhaust
that I must swim
to be in your arms.

some nights
I still really want to be dead
all stress leaking away
slowly dissipating
like heat from my feet
to my head
till the cold prevails
saving me from lifely ails
just
dead
just
dead
just


dead

I feel like I repeat myself
over and over when I write
each poem becomes about
staying up at night
wondering about my lack
of friends and my
heading toward a dead end
but I really can't understand
why I've lived here for three months
and have met no one
besides my two roommates
No one relates or sees that
I'm good company
and it's not like I don't try
I do, I sit next to people and
try and get to know them
I smile, I joke
I be me
but I'm so, so
lonely
it's suffocating
it's heart breaking
it's devastating
when I can't pick up my phone
and call someone to just
kick it
I used to think that
I had to learn to like being alone
I did
now alone time is all I get
what the ****
what the ****
what the ****
what the ****
what
the
****

It's four in the morning
my mourning lays dormant in me
tears I should have cried
years I want to retry
cigarette smoke burns my eyes
but dry they remain
I lose sleep over the things
I could have lost or gained
my mind a bullet train
speeding toward a cliff
made up of
"What if?"

I'll ask you three times if you want something and if you still say no the third time I won't ask again. If you resent me for that, then say what you want before it's too late

2. Staying to help clean after a party means about as much as being at the party, sometimes more

3. Treat animals well, if someone is cruel to animals it's a good bet they will be cruel to people

4. You can do things by yourself. Go out to eat, go to the park, take a drive. It's okay to decline company, if they are good company they will understand (but be careful to not shut them out)

5. Don't ever put anyone down for singing along to a song, even if their voice is terrible it is beautiful to hear them being free

6. If you are with people and want something, offer it to them as well

7. Make your room smell the way you want. Candle, incense, some sort of spray. People remember more from a scent than from a picture

8. Take care of your body, when it's happy your brain is happier. Exercise of any form helps improve your mood

9. Only humans keep track of time, spend a day without ever checking a clock, let your natural rhythm tell you when to eat or sleep or run or lay

10. Find one thing to enjoy each day. If the rest of the day goes poorly at least you can say you liked part of it

It's funny how little I remember
from that hill top day in December
there is an image of a white dress
but you told me over and over
It was a cream colored cardigan
my mind spinning lies to
feed my emotion
leaves me supposin' that
nothing ever last anyway
so what does it matter
why keep on searching
there's no single person who could
withstand it
that force that pulls
and snatches every thing
I'll wing it alone
I'll wint it alone

Love doesn't always triumph.
No matter how hard people try
it slips away or strangles them
or drives them crazy.
The fires fizzle out, the passion flies,
the love dies.
I know, I know,
I've seen it a million times,
with friends, with my parents, with myself.
It's scary as hell,
but with this one, this one,
oh it's something else!
If the flame gets low, why,
I'll chop down a forest,
I'll mine coal the rest of my life,
to keep fueling and fueling.
The odds seemed stacked against
romance lasting, resisting a pessimistic demise,
but this one makes it not matter,
shatters all expectations, opposes
those forces that tear, that rip,
that desperately wish to squish love
into a smudge on the pavement.
Yes, this one is something else
this one is a fairy tale

All my old friends are vessels
sailing away from the Bay
leaving the Martinez Harbor
or they are cars taking I-680 South
stopping at the last Kinder's
before driving out
flying the nest, hoping for the best
chasing paper
will we come back later?
will we return to the place
that watered us till we grew?
will we come back to nest?

Sipping coffee,
staring out the office window
at verdant trees, calm.
Children lay in the streets,
twitching from toxins
filled in their lungs.
A father clutched his two dead babies.
Humanity defeated by hatred,
or money.
Missiles launched,
tomahawks flung in the name of Democracy.
Missiles whose name is stolen,
painted over by Democracy's ****** wake.

But today, I am
sipping coffee,
staring out the office window
at verdant trees, calm.

You are in paper now Eddie
my class will know you
in three weeks
they will see your royal nose
and your strong brow
they will feel your passion
your lust for life as you
pull back the bow string
but my heart still stings
still falls to my feet
thinking about you in the hospital bed
the bandage around your head
I thought it would bring closure
or make me closer to you
I was wrong
it just made me cry
made me yell at the night
I miss you
I miss you
I love you...

remember?

I am John at the bar

The storm makes rivers of the streets.
They rage and tumble, pouring down hills,
through towns, filling them all with water.

Soaked, drenched, gloriously drenched.

Today I feel worthless. No ideas are flowing; my attempts are sporadic and trivial, just some drivel I've eked out. Poetry...barely breathing , a few gasps every week or two, beyond that it's suffocation. I'm boring, mundane, my creativity drained away, and I'm not even sure when I pulled the plug. Maybe I should take a bath, plunge myself underwater, look up at the surface, search for a purpose. I want to cry, I won't, I can't. Slip into a self-loathing depression. Hit my head against the wall till one or the other breaks, at least then I might have something to fill the pages, those ******* pages.

Woke up just after sunrise,
my partner already risen for work,
when, to my surprise,
the door flew open
and in she strode, flowers in hand,
followed by:
chocolate chip waffles, oranges,
strawberries, raspberries, blueberries,
bananas, bacon, eggs, toast,
mimosas!
She lit the room, set all down before me,
then joined me for the feast
while my heart beat,
and beat,
and beat!

a few tender souls
once intertwined with me
have been shred away
by my hand
my spine is crooked over
from holding the weight
of this heavy heart
my neck sore from
supporting this brain filled
to the brim with regret
that I became the things
I looked on with a tinge of disgust
when I was eighteen
my skin feels unclean
despite countless showers
I scour and scrub but
the grimeyness persists
how did this...
how did this...

happen?

Jake sits on the rocks,
perched above the watering hole,
silently observing Dad and I
hopping from stone to stone.

He doesn't want to get wet,
doesn't mind being alone,
I'm unconcerned, aware
of Jake's distaste for unnecessary dampness,
though Dad complains
that Jake never joins in the fun,
wanting close proximity to his son.

Unfortunately
words evade me
unless depression drags me
into the mud
or despair threatens to swallow me up
so take my silence as a good sign
see my blank page as a message
that I am doing
just fine

Let the rending of your being
fuel the fires born to melt yourself
in a mold
be the creator and the created
you are your own god,
take pride in yourself
as a soul

how many times have I quit smoking
just to burn my insides out again
revert to a bad habit that cages me
in a pen
it feels like being loved
it feels like loving
deep breaths and a spinning head
it feeds a hunger
that has been long left unfed

I got to PolySci
a little too high
dark glasses over eyes
even though eye drops
were applied
I tried to reach out
find a friend, maybe two
but nothing came
who knew that the
"You'll make friends quickly" Dan
would fail so miserably
now it's "back of the bus music up"
Dan
who plays guitar four hours a day
and doesn't even care where his phone
is because no one here
will text me
anyway

Petals flurried in the wind,
gusts rushing white clouds.
A final hoo-rah,
a perfect storm
before bare branches.

We sit and watch,
petals in our hair,
mischievous tendrils of air whipping.
We sit and watch
with wonder, this blessing,

yet we forget our own.