You know, I almost called the other night.
Almost.
I’d like to think that
you would’ve almost picked up,
and I would’ve almost said something.
It’s a good thing I’ve almost lost your number;
I could get lonely someday
and forget that you almost wanted to stay.
I forget a lot nowadays.
I almost called the other night, you know.
But I’ve learned that “almost”
only counts in “I love you’s”
and “goodbye’s”.
Maybe I’ll almost sleep tonight.
It’s strange that I keep dreaming
about the night we walked around the city.
I always end up on the park bench
by your house,
waiting.
I’ve almost stopped wishing you’d show up.

Antarctica is just a hotel room that we passed sometime late last week
This highway only has a handful of exits but we don’t know where we’re going
And for some reason we’ve been measuring everything in heartbeats
It tears me apart because I would rather measure you in kisses
Confined to the hospital bed in the backseat I’ve never known such helplessness
Your smile lights the way but there is nothing to see except these blank white walls
I know what I want and thats a small victory in and of itself
But warm beds have always eluded me and the wings meant to bring you to me keep disappearing
They keep me tied down and I wonder if its because they think I’ll hurt myself again
I didn’t know any better and they never bothered to teach me
My father never warned me about the ocean
He never spoke to me of the currents
So how was I to know the real danger was hidden under the surface
My mother never warned me about the forest
She never spoke to me of the depths
So how was I to know the real danger was in my lack of direction
Now I just stare into coffee cups because they remind me of my mistakes I think it must be the smell
I had hoped they were just being careless but maybe it was me after all
*~W.C.

The cord is caught between my desk and my foot
my thoughts and my tongue
my fingertips and everything else
**** life from willow
and scream at television screens
that project images into vectors
eating steel through cotton table cloths
every Sunday.

Seated, watching the time
restraining thoughts of getting there
when there hasn't yet been defined.
Uselessness and vigor
will pour through my pores
at 1919 ft worth
and settle,
****.
It's never going to settle.

You’re the singer standing in front
Of a standing ovation
Trying to hide behind a microphone
Because you cannot comprehend
How bright you are
Actually shining

as cliche as it sounds
it's a lot easier
to be happy
than to be sad.
happiness can be
drinking your favorite tea
or eating your favorite sandwich.
it can be seeing
a familiar face
you might not have seen
in a while
or having your cat
lick your nose
with their sandpaper tongue.
happiness comes in all shapes and sizes,
in all forms of things,
both living and non-living.
however, it's up to you
to find your happiness
in those things.

From light hearted happiness

to straight into the ditch

they **** things up

so easily and they arent even here

that stain wont lift and you dont even bother washing it or coming clean.

so this snap of mine turned into your violent negation

another length of silence,

how long before you miss me this time?

how long before you realise that you are

deaf dumb and mute with out me.

I am your unglamourous purpose

I am your what little meaning you have left in your life

I gave birth to your reasons

and I will surely **** them if I go

question is,

how long do you have before you cant stop me?

how fickle you are about such important things

and how much unecessary passion will you

channel into a pit that is no longer interested in you

because there is nothing to take.

it never was a giving pit.

****** you dry now theres only heartache left to bleed

and it is all of your own making

the fantasy that they thought you were special

that they couldnt live with out you.

but I never could.