What is our life? The play of passion.
Our mirth? The music of division:
Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy.
The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is,
Who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss.
The graves which hide us from the scorching sun
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus playing post we to our latest rest,
And then we die in earnest, not in jest.

two kids
careless and naive

and that December
I’ll always remember
some kind of attraction
take a chance
what’s the worst that could happen?
butterflies killing my insides
smudged eyeliner
fighting, arguing
but I miss you
you say you don’t remember
tangled sheets and gray sweatpants

whispers. lies.
“let’s pretend”
it’s easier than telling the truth
right?

silence.

it never meant anything.
but I’m still here
always will be
and miles don’t mean anything
and my feeling don’t mean anything
to you
wrong timing, always wrong
but you could never waste my time
lets go back to how it used to be
now back to the same routine
same cycle.

In the darkest region of my brain
A somber eye swollen with pain
Begins to shed salty tears again

Some seep through cracks
On dilapidated walls of shattered dreams
Others burn through misty reason like sunbeams

They drip into a puddle in a rhythmic beat
One after the other from the crow’s feet
This insane chant to endlessly repeat:

-Awake, alert, aware-
Of my wrath beware
The green-eyed monster
Will break its chain
Feed on your brain
Drive you insane
-Tap, tap, tap-

Unblinking orbital eye.
Sometimes you smile.
The world leans your way
and you are none the wiser.
Do you know what you do?
Hide your face when you cry.
Shine in your realm behind clouds.
Glow not from within but in
mirrored reflection from afar.
Do you know who you are?
Lovers know your name and
long to touch your face.
In legend and lore you alter unnaturally.
Bards tribute love to your face.
I feel you when I can’t see you.
I know you’re there.
Will you show yourself tomorrow?
I’ll look for you in time.
Will you look for me?

The ice sifting in my glass
melts as the full moon sets
Another vice, constricting,
like a tightly wound corset
I can't be around so many people
in such familiar atmospheres
without a mixed drink and a cigarette
intervening through my beers

On her phone, at the table
She seems alone but not ashamed
I wonder if a single person here
could even guess her name
For a little liquid courage
I finish up my drink
I transfer to a closer chair
and ask on what she thinks

"I've got a past consumed by lovers
and a future filled with death
But the only thing I've ever wanted
was someone else inside my head
I want to hear somebody understand
that I don't always feel so fine"
I think I start to fall in love
as she pirouettes her glass of wine

She tells me how she grew up
on shattered hopes and dreams
Yet everything she's ever needed
has been well within her reach
The scars that she has
they paint a vivid history
A reminder of the past
A tour guide, makeshift, just for me

We talk a little longer
We joke and we sing
Halfway through her bottle
her ride informs us she's leaving
She says "I think I'm gunna miss you
when I'm alone laying in bed
Unless you want to take me there
and tuck me in instead"

We head out to the main street
where I hail us a taxi
She says she wants to split my headphones
and hear something relaxing
So we listen to Alcoa
Cab Rides & Cigarettes
I never knew that such a sad song
Could evoke such an affect




I dropped
her off
and left

But I'm glad
that we
had met

And can you believe,
The horrible glee
With which his lips licked.
Dreaming-- carcass picked,

Reveling wholly.
Dismissing Holy
Enlightened beings,
Sinking in Needing.

Black black smack, alack!
I'm a crack-gack hack!
Or, mayhaps, I'm not?
Or, perhaps, just caught,

In nauseous verde waves
Of fanciful raves--
Rants all entertained--
I say makes me drained.

Baudelaire's half-baked,
Chatterton-- cracked
Morally, sorely
Standing half-poorly

But standing up still,
Avoiding the thrill
Of desert mirage,
It's poison barrage!