Sun is shining
Corn is dying
turning light golden brown
The wind blows through me
And I feel surreal
I know we aren't going far
But I want to
I think about it
It consumes me
The need to experience
states
roads
towns
an entire country
My lust for sight of the world
is so deep
I can feel it aching from my very core

I have tried it all
To get the monsters in my soul
Smoking them out
Drowning them in alcohol
Poisoning them with pills
Putting them to sleep with green happiness
Bleeding them out
And yet every night they whisper
I am here
I will always be here
As long as you are here

proper verbalization is impossible when all emotions build up
into a castle of nothing
where all i'd like to do is throw you down a spiral staircase
and leave you there to decompose.
my heart is a tomb and i've dug you out.

so young, and willing
to go along with all requests
and just believe there's love where there isn't.
misty led me to the fishbone dreamlife
and i let myself get lost among the ribs.

your ribs.
they're bruised.
when you laugh you ache
when i push you burn.
and now the thought of you in pain isn't in regret, nor delight, just apathy.

i once was a chain smoker.
one after the other,
and i'd come back later for more.
but there's only one cigarette left
burned down to the filter and i don't want anymore.

of course, i'm rather fickle so generally i'll go back for more
but is it out of genuine want
or addiction?
do i stay in this bed of tobacco
locked in it's embrace out of habit?

could i walk away?
can i?

If you could watch a plane crash in slow motion
You’d see a hundred lives slip away
Into the jet stream.
From row 17, seat B, you’d see
A freckled child lose their Legos,
Parents,
Youth.
And the man in row 22 would take one long, last
Look at his wife
And think only of love, love, love.
The overhead compartments will open
And spill out the wares,
The jackets that kept them warm
And the computers that once lit
With their life’s work
And thus, the world seems to shatter.
Do they cry? Do they have time?
Do they pray? Do they lose faith in God?
Do some gain it?
No one but the dead know the true tragedy.

As the tray tables dislodge
And the sky falls

Failure
Illuminates
And plagues
Our accomplishments

"The first bullet
To **** by your head
Is the scariest,"
The general said.

"All the rest
Are just like
Old girlfriends
You might catch sight of
At the bar."

When we take our own life
Into our own hands and
Rely on the sincerity of others,

We are playing a game
More dangerous
Than Russian Roulette.

I take for granted
What I have

I dare not to see my
Many blessings

For fear of feeling
Unworthy

The walls here
Do not leak and
There are no cockroaches
Scurrying underneath
My one sheeted bed

The air I breath
Is not nuclear and
There is no
Secret Police
Pounding on my door

I am alone
To do
What I please

When I please

The only rapping
That echoes around me
Are from the hand's of
An unknown creativity

Who put
This desire
In me?

Who cursed me
To never be
Satisfied or
Free?

How long have the shackles -
Rusted and red orange in the sun -
Been strapped to my wrists and
Gripped around the bases of my ankles?

But
To abandon my irons
Would be to abandon
Myself

Leave myself
In the desert sun -
The soul begging for
Water, for food, for
Shelter from the beating flares of sunlight

Where there are questions
There are answers

Where there are answers
There is rest for some

For others
They dutifully
Choose not
To recognize

Outside my windows the
Street workers with their hammers
And their sledgehammers pound away
To the mad rhythm of this hustling city.
History has not forgotten them,
But it wants to.

History wants to forget us all.
History wants to re-write itself.
We want to write ourself to be
The divinely chosen Men of the World.

We will never be,
We will forever be human.
To reach the heavens
Would mean death.

And death
Lasts longer
Than a lifetime

mmm
you dredge up the memories of lost secrets
gathered up
in made up words and our twisted limbs and now
packed with yellowing newspapers in the cardboard boxes
lining the attic
ancient jokes are unpeeled too, dry and cracking
they emerge to see the sunlight
but are quickly blinded, ouch!
those pictures of our shared smiles and oh so tender embraces have faded
to sepia tone in their brittle wooden frames,
be careful as you grab them down from the shelf,
they might break.
Mmm* it all comes back to me now
-our treasure trove of antique memories-
as you oh so slyly mention them in passing,
slip in those references that you
know
I’ll remember,
Aren’t you cool as a cucumber now?
but they crumble quickly in your hand
and I only hear wisps of our whispers
as the record player leaves scratches on the disks
ah darling be careful you’re about to drop it all down the 3 flights of stairs and it might all smash into microscopic pieces so very
very
soon