side-stick drummer
let’s get this **** to an earnest place
I’ve heard enough embellishment
to shell me in for several days
I’ve meddled in pretentiousness
& settled that my selfish ways
are nothing but a governor
rain & thunder on an ember’s blaze

So strip me of the pompousness
that clouds an artist’s sharpened heart
& strike me with the poignancy
of purpose in a work of art
& make me feel like I don’t need a reason
to invoke a start
& help me fall in love with who I am
before my light goes dark

There’s a lot of superficial nonsense
in some of my writing
just surface-level
cliché
regurgitation
of things I’ve probably heard in
movies
or read in
love stories
it’s hard to reach your hands in there
and dig deeper
to the guts of the inspiration
it seems like these complex emotions
are processed
and neatly packaged
in recognizable phrasing
but really
it’s a bit messier than that
it’s confusion
discomfort
incomplete meanings
reality details
that can’t be replicated by most
consumable forms of expression
& when I sit and try to harness them
I can only write
one word
at a
time.

I hold hymns in my pocket
like procession flowers
the petals age
but in their soft construction
I’m reminded
that while time decays
everything that’s living
I will sing you things
that always stay
to wear them like a necklace
you can never lose
or never break

Certain weird things inspire me to write them down
They must be rooted in something
Potent
Unique to what I’ve known
Where I start to mentally describe the circumstances and think
Woah
That’s something else
Like how I’m at this place
This (bar)
And how the people here
Who work here
The guys who fill our glasses
Know your name on their lips
If I were to
Inquire
They have that
Intel
Ready and willing
Like it would help me now
I guess
But
Still

She said writers are soft
I told her that ain’t quite the whole truth
Emotional invulnerability can be a soul-noose
And when you do explore into the corridors and floors
of your expression
you’ve accepted that you’ll turn a couple stones loose
“It’s old news. I don’t wanna hear about your feelings,
or what you didn’t feel back, it’s really too revealing.”

I guess that all depends what you expect from what you’re reading
I mean artistry’s a part of our impression that’s appealing


No really – the world’s a crazy place and if you let it
it will crash into your spirit and rattle you apoplectic
I get it
she said and
grabbed her earrings from the bedstand
I watched her check her phone
she called me Romeo
and left then

I’ve tried to bury you in
glances from other women
push your name down my inbox
with text messages from girls who
are lovely
but not
you.
And see that’s the problem
They’re not
you
and they don’t know you
or even ever know of you
but eventually they realize
they’re not
too

Irrevocably I pose
with moments in my mind
in future's time
& analyze the nuance of her eyes
& how I'd focus mine
It rocks me to a slumber
unlike any I can quantify
and lingers like a sunburn
when the night is late
& wine's run dry

You sent me a link to a song one time
that was over a year ago
maybe two
and I really wanted to hear it again
not to think of you
but I like the ****
song
And I had to scroll through
pages
of our text messages
back and forth
& to be honest
it didn't bother me so much this time
except a few short excerpts
that reminded me
why I fell for you
between the cracks
and anyway
I found the song
and I was very glad I did
and I guess along the whole exercise
I found some other things
along the way.

Unleash your cynicism
I'm not listening without regard
You've sipped on my predicament
enough
it's time to leave the bar
I'll walk you down the road
& watch your shadow shift
with passing cars
& laugh at really nothing in particular
but who we are

sometimes you can't only
rent space in your mind
to the ones you want to be there
this landlord
cannot control every tenant's
presence
but I think if you once leased
a suite
maybe even penthouse
I've got you in a
cramped studio
jacking up the rent
some people even own property
but you're on the way out
until maybe the last trace
of you
is a mis-labeled buzzer
or a letter
that never received
your change of address

solaces inverted
comfort marches cue
simple things, we say
crazy things we do
creased seasons
plead reason
silence deepens – overdue
I tie my soul into my boots and know with time they’ll lead to you

It’s not that easy

to just lose you

in the tides of cognizance

you’re nestled

deeper than that

like one tug at the surface

sends a jolt to the roots

& I don’t know how

to unearth that


maybe time without attention

negligence

will coax your impact

to dissipate

& let the caring soil



start over

I spent Easter in Budapest
when I was 16
I was in love with a melancholy
sorrow
A feeling I was building as a home
In a foreign land
It was Easter and I missed
someone I didn't know I'd be
and
I almost didn't let him
turn 17

I’ve learned a lot about myself
From the relationships I’ve had
Even the ones
That have lasted just a night
Short-term investors
Their comments remain
Like glimpses of a photograph
I can’t see through my own lens