have you ever believed
in something so blindly
so genuinely
that the moment you realize
it isn't true, something inside you
changes forever?
i wanna tell you a story, see
seldom do i ever
go swimming in drinks
deep enough to drown in
but when i do
i speak in tongues
about things that none
of my memories
are allowed to talk about
like that christmas
at the isthmus
where my girlfriend
plucked a conch shell
whiter than gods teeth
out of the sand
held it to her ear
and stopped time
that day she was a shade of blue
the could've made the ocean sick
see, she loved to play jokes
when she held
the sea shell to her ear
she gasped, called my name
and said "i want you to hear this"
i said "yeah, right, everybody knows it's just the same old sea"
she replied "no. not this one. this one is special. listen. theres music in this one"
she handed me the shell
like a promise she couldn't keep
and i held it to my ear
with all the potential
of seeing shore
after being stranded
at sea for years
only to hear
a tired dirge of silence
spill from its emptiness
i guess she didn't know
how desperately
i wanted to hear it too
because ever since
something inside me snapped
now sand pours out
of every post card i open
i hear seagulls
in telephone static
sometimes i have dreams
where i bury my hands
in every beach
i've ever been on
and exhume this graveyard of noise
every time i try to sleep
i spit up fishhooks
and i guess i'm obsessed
but maybe
if i hold my ear
to enough vacant things
then i could have back
the time stolen from me
since it happened
maybe they would get it
if they knew what i wanted
when i blow out birthday candles
maybe they'll find me
face down in a wishing well
i watch eternal sunshine
of the spotless mind every day
pretending i can forget too
because this sea sickness
has followed me for years
because yesterday
i walked into a music shop
and all the pianos broke
but the only thing
i can think to say is
*do you know how bad
a memory has to be
that you fantasize
about forgetting it?

"hi."
"hi, how are you?"
"hey, how would you feel about going out this friday?"
"hey, did you have fun last night?"
"let's do last friday again sometime."
"hey, cutie pie."
"hey, sweetheart."
"think about me at school today."
"good morning, beautiful."
"don't forget that i love you."
"i will always love you, darling."
"hey, i know it's getting hard, but the two of us can get through anything."
"i miss you."
"you'll be okay. i promise."
"just because this happened, doesn't mean i will forget you."
"hey, sorry it's been so long. how are you?"
"hope you're doing well."
"hi."
silence.

We claim to be children of God in this age.
We claim to want peace as we fire hand grenades.
We want the truth as we tell our own lies.
We want promises but break our own ties.

Corrupted, mislead, riots turning the streets red.
Turn off the TV, tuck your children safely in bed
With these images stuck in their head.

Our brains are rotting what has this world caused us to be?
21st century zombie-
Plugged in at all times.
Why is our laziness not considered a crime?

Why has He
Not come forth to teach us there's
So much more in this life-

Besides the pillage, the ****.
Everyone has their own *** tape.
The ******, the politics, the News
There is no difference, no one wears a cape.

We claim to know what's best, but let the wrong govern us: the minority and the rest.
We claim to want to help, but lock up the wrong because he is not like our self.
We claim to be equal, but won't let me marry who I want to still.
We claim and we claim, but it all stays the same.

it kills me to say this
but i've forgotten what your voice sounds like

it's been twenty-one days
and i am alive
(sometimes)

i want to drown myself in drugs
i want to drown myself in Jesus
i want to drown myself in self-loathing
i want to drown myself in you

the thought of kissing you
brought me solace on
sleepless nights
now it's the source of
my worst nightmares

i tried making dreams my reality
and reality my dreams
but you haunt every crack and crevice
of my being
i can't dust the places i can't reach

i am not well.

poetry is my mistress for I must always keep it a secret
                      i go to her when i'm at my weakest but
when we talk it leaves me sleepless
                                                        
                                                          it feels as though my life is a play
                  where the script is not well written
i wish i could be
                                   rewritten...unwritten

One.

It has been
Two years
Or maybe three
Since I knew you last
I can still taste the bitter
In the back of my mouth

We were in the same city
But your heart was somewhere else
With someone else
I think I knew it
To begin with
But didn't want to believe it

Two.

Colorado was your home
I was a Midwest rental
With a twenty-four hour vacancy
A place for you to reside
Only when convenient

You came back that summer
With more baggage
Than I could hold
I tried my best to carry it for you
I couldn't
My arms have always been
Weak
My knees weaker

Three.

I was
Desperate for affection
You gave me little of it
But it was just the right amount
To be able to stretch into lasting

I held on to your hand
Tightly
You held on to mine
Like you were hoping
To drop it
Like you wouldn’t mind
If you did

Four.

You had multiple pet rats
I said I didn’t mind them
I lied

Five.

Your dog loved me
More than you did

Six.

Your couch was uncomfortable
I slept on it anyway
I wanted to be
As close to you
As humanly possible

Seven.

We never made love
In your bed

Eight.

You didn't know how
To say no to anyone
Especially me
Instead
You said nothing

Nine.

You were easily
Taken advantage of

Ten.

I took care of you
While you took care of
Everyone else

Eleven.

I was sixteen when I met you
I don't remember how

Twelve.

You took
Everything I had
With greedy hands
And still managed
To call yourself selfless

I would have stripped
My skin raw
Just for you to have something
To keep you warm in the wintertime

You left
Before September even arrived

That August
Was the coldest
Of all twelve months

These are the things
I am recovering just now
Things I can only recall
At odd hours of the night
When I am laying in bed

These are the things
I don’t remember well
But I remember them
Enough to make myself ache

I remember you
Enough to feel the swelling
Of what it feels like
To give too much of yourself
Away

I remember you
I still do

I hope you remember me too.