As far back as I can remember
I wanted to be a
Paleontologist
Someone who looks at the old, decayed
Bones of creatures that never asked for
Love.
I wanted to be someone who dug through
Inches, feet, yards, miles of dirt
For a charred fragment of bone
that was so far away from
Home that the only
Contact it could make with its family
Was through the wires of the
Telephone
I wanted to be someone
Important.
Then that phase passed.

Later on, I wanted to be a writer,
Because there’s something about
Creation that’s so spontaneous
That it can lift souls higher
Make hearts lighter
If you do it right.
I wanted to write an expansion of
Cliché in such a grandiose way
That could make everything
Seem
Just right for some night when
That rush of creativity spills through
My fingertips
Like water dripping from the stalactites of
A cognitive cave of irrelevance
I just wanted to write.

Well, then that phase passed
And I wanted to be a doctor
Because there was something about
The cure that kept me up at night
Wondering how innocent and pure
That baby’s face is as his mother is
Carted down the hall on a gurney,
Who barely lived to see thirty years
On Earth
Whose constant fear of
“How will they survive”
sat on the first tear she cried
When her doctor diagnosed her.
That woman who had so much time ahead of her
But whose debilitating cancer always kept her from
Home.  
So much so that “home” became an
I.V. bag and a hospital bed.  
So much so that
“Home” went from fireplaces and kittens
To MRI machines and seven minutes
To live,
So much so that “home” became a myth.

And there are a lot of myths
Today.
There are myths today so farfetched and
Filled with hate, like
“It’s a choice, the one with whom you
fornicate” and
“It’s not that you’re a bad person, it’s that you’re
a disgrace, but I’m not trying to discriminate against
you.”
And they say these things with such distaste that they
Forget those with whom they’re supposed to relate
And love.

But now, love has become something
Blurred
Something obscured by religious fanatics and
Old, dusty books
Something regulated by governments and
Followed blindly by people at the risk of being
Burned, something
We’re afraid of.
Love.
The most toxic word
In the English language.
The word that makes and breaks
Empires, the word that lights
Fires in the hearts of men and women
In the most remote places,
The word that connects hearts
Instead of faces,
That fills a thousand vases
On the altars of every church
That allows people to
Love someone for who they
Are, and as each heart races they
Find the real meaning of  
Love.

Because here’s the thing.
“There is no love without hate”
Now that’s one of the few things
You can appreciate,
Your right to hate
Please.
Don’t feed me that line.
Because we both know that,
When you’re older,
You’re just gonna end up
Crying in the corner
Like the spoiled little
Brat you’ve always been,
Like that boulder of hate
Was never lifted off your
Shoulder
And why should it?

So let it fall.
Let yourself give in to
The pressure
Of defeat,
Like that dinosaur
That only wanted
Something to eat
But instead was
Cheated out of every
Chance it had to live.
Feel it burning
Deep inside you
All that hate
Yearning to get out
Let it consume you.

Maybe someday,
Someone will dig up your
Bones.  
Maybe someday, someone will
Remember you.  And
Maybe they will label you.
By your species.

Dearest dove keeper,
You've shot down the sleeper.
Messed us up beyond repair,
Not so simple, something deeper.
I'm just a street-walker,
Another sweet-talker,
She smiles even wider,
A giver and taker.
It's hard to be afraid,
Now that you've made yourself
Crystaline clear,
I just can't refrain.
I just can't be made
To lay low like this.
Try hiding sometime
And tell me how hard it is.
Because we're all in love,
You just don't know it yet.
And I'm so in love,
That I'm blinded by it.
But she can never see,
Just what she does to me,
We smile wide and run and hide.
But it just can't be

Well she's drawn to you,
She's held to you
With impressive words and rubber bands
But there's still a veil in between
Still a need to keep things clean,
And you know this, too.

"I've got pages," she says
"They hold the words that get no sound.
A second mind that's spiral bound.
Growing fuller as the sun sets,
This is as easy as it gets."

She tells you the small things,
But keeps what matters
Left behind, they're frayed and tattered
Broken fragments hanging by strings,
Keeping steady as the choir sings:

"Spit back the venom
And let this light shine in
Eyes to the horizon and watch a new day begin.
Put the pen to paper as the phrases come,
But this time, darling, you're not allowed to run."

I assess people from across the room
Like scanning barcodes to make sure
That I know what I'm getting myself into
Because I think I know what's good for me.
But sometimes
What I see is not what I get and I
Drown.
Nothing's what it seems
And I don't know what's happening
Like I'm dreaming
Because I won't see it coming
"I cut myself so I can feel something I know is not a lie."
It's how I know I haven't changed.

Sometimes I try to live my life,
Like "just passing by" and "only stopping in"
And underneath the surface
I just want to stay
So I fall through like the enemy
Peaking through skylights in black ski masks
It was never meant to be this way.
And how long has it been?
I can spit back the venom all I want
But it still stings
And I can't let them know
And I can't let it show
And they won't let me stay
So I guess I'll just go.

I check the sky before I leave my house
To check for any passing clouds
And it's always raining.
So I stand in a room
Four walls and one window
I tug back the blinds to let the light shine in
And I pull the window open
Air drifting through the gap
To see if I can breathe.
So empty.
There's still a chance that I'll make it outside today
But it just doesn't feel right.
When winter comes crashing through the front door,
I leave
Standing on the frozen creek
Hoping to fall through and hoping to make it out
All at the same time.
I can't win.

And one morning when the sky turned pink,
My eyes were red.
Red eyeliner to match my bloodshot eyes.
As the sun was rising, orange in the sky,
I was hit with cerulean waves
Drowning in shades and hues of blues
Like all the things I should have done.
The cavalry comes to invade the town
And there is no place I can hide
They raided houses all morning
And I'm angry with myself
Because I am awake.
"If we don't take medication,
we won't sleep for decades."

I didn't see you leaning in the doorway
Propped up on mahogany
Telling me hello.
In fact, the house was
Empty.
And I've been waiting for this day for years
So I turned back the way I came
Writing stories in italics to get my point across
Listening to the crickets from the night before.
I was swept away.
And I forgot where you lived
Until I stumbled upon your home,
Where you were leaning in the doorway
Propped up on mahogany
Telling me sorry
And all I did was
Walk away.

And now I have a bad habit of inhaling
Nothing.
Living solely on
Nothing.
Dreaming nights away with
Nothing
In my head but the Emptiness
And the weight of
Nothing
Sitting in my chest for days and days
Like blackbirds on telephone wires
Carrying
Nothing
But bad new
Words and phrases that mean
Nothing
To anybody anymore
And it's absolutely horrible when you think about
What it all used to mean
And how the meaning was stripped away
Piece by tiny piece
Until it hurt
Until it felt like a knife in my heart
The things that became Significant
Became harmful when they left
Became toxic when I couldn't see them anymore
And became horrible when everything was over.
The worst part was realizing that
Everything
Means
Nothing
Now.
Like towers that have fallen to dust
Right before my very eyes.

Taste the sound of the birds in the morning
Right in the sun,
A path made from beams,
A morning that should be mine
But I spent it inside
Because I couldn't bare to get out of bed that day.
"I'm not suicidal, I just can't get out of bed."
And would I trade my soul for Enthusiasm?
Would you trade your soul to know what I know?
So we walk along like this means anything
Fitting silence better and better each day.
This is wrong.
If living life is just a dream,
When do we wake up?
Questions that claw at my psyche before I can even down my Morning Cup
This *****.
My two cents on life, as a friend once said.
Is this temporary?
They say it doesn't hurt
And to not ask for help
"I can't be honest with even myself.
Did you ever wish you were somebody else?"
They label us with accomplishments
And rank us so high
That living up to the Standards isn't at the top of my list.
So I leave.

Listening for bad dreams
Like trains on the tracks.
The "ding ding"
The hum
Of the arms coming down to keep us
From hurting ourselves
While we attempt to cross
But I've always been bad at
Listening
And you've always been bad at staying still.
So we walk on the tracks,
The metal beneath our feet
Hot enough to melt our soles
But we can't care
Because we're Moving
And we don't care about the direction
Because why would we?
So we walk and we walk
Listening to the whistles in the distance
Until they're not whistles
And they're not in the distance
It's more like a howl
That greets us when we look up
Growing closer and closer
Until--

--I'm living in a house where four in the morning haunts us,
Staring down the ink on my fingers like they mean something
But it means nothing
And I've got to get out of this town.
So we fantasize of leaving this place.
Just get in your car and go
Because why not?
But we aren't even close
And I don't want to be trapped
And you don't want to stay here.
"Are we wasting time or is it wasting us?"
Two clocks ticking out of sync
That's what Emptiness feels like
So we fill it with silly things.
Chipped nail polish.
T-shirts
Leggings with boots
Albums that nobody has heard of
Places to be
Places we've been
Places to avoid
Books with sad endings
With dried flowers between the pages.
I disconnect
Like this is the end
Because it could be the end
But we can never agree.

I look up and see
That the paint on the wall is chipped in places
Like it is giving up
So I give up.
I wake up and leave my house
And everything about me says
"I give up on life."
And the thing is that
Nobody else cares one bit
And I am convinced
That they've all
Secretly
Given up on life as well.
We're all just kids in a line at Sunday school.
Looking proper until we think they aren't looking
Safety pins can hold our dresses in place,
But they can't hold our hearts together
And it's horrible
That we're all on the verge of
Breaking
And we're all on the verge of
Dying anyway.

Sitting on the concrete with a friend
A bottle of water in hand
And we talk
Like it will mean something in ten years.
Will it mean anything in ten years?
Will it mean anything tomorrow?
Because I'll watch everyone change
But I'll still feel the same
Empty.
So full of
Nothing.
Keeping track of
Nothing
In particular
Whilst crashing through the colors,
Lining my eyes,
Running from the feelings
And wishing,
Hoping,
Dying to wake up from this dream
Like it will take  me somewhere
But I know very well that I am not going
Anywhere
But
Nowhere
Fast
With stupid thoughts in my head
Of the end.
It's just "people leave"
And "Blood is thick"
But it's watered down sometimes
And I can't take this anymore.
I want to wake up.
I want to wake up.
I want to wake up.

Thoughts of her fit like a coffin
In all the bad ways.
Midnight eyes with stars and galaxies gaze
Fixed
They never change
And the ending still remains
She fades
From memories
And the last twelve days
Turn to the last twelve months.
That was when I realized that nothing would ever last
And she sat at the end of my kitchen table
Yellow sun dress pooling
A beam of light in a lonely room full of people
My lungs collapsing
Tongue failing
Words half formed falling forth
Between us
And she smiled.
I was nervous.
She was stunning,
Sitting patiently under my camera lens as I took several more pictures
And now I can only see her in my dreams.
Dark hair and darker eyes
Tired and smiling
Voice singing sweet lullabies
To voices in my head that seem to never sleep
Next in line
Like pills you can't wait to take
Another false reality
And I'm wishing she'd leave my head
Because she fits my mind like a coffin
In all the bad ways