The first time
that my mother caught me
smoking *** with my friend
in the backyard
she asked me
"Why can't you just
get high on life?"
and I'll be honest
I was ****** at the time
so I laughed
which she said
was the saddest part about it all

I've given it some thought since then
and it seems more terrifying
and less funny
every single day
because I have tasted life
the man on the corner
offered me
two grams of life
for forty dollars
so I went into my room
and had myself a life ******
and I never will again
At times you feel so elated
that if you stood up
on your tip-toes
and strained
you would simply float away

At times it feels as if every cell of your body
is burning with holy fire
everything is a threat
and ******* you want what's yours
and sometimes
what isn't
You feel as if every pair of eyes
should pay a toll
to look at your own
you feel as if
you just chugged
a barrel of nitro glycerin
all it takes is one lonely spark
and then
boom

At times you feel like
your whole world
was set up
just to cave in
when you are at
your most vulnerable
when you have lost all faith
something comes along
and shows you
that you can in fact
lose some more
valleys deeper
than the earth's core
lonely and cold
a hail storm
of knives

The worst times
are the times in between
the ennui
which constantly creeps forward
like the hands on a clock
when all you want
is for that day to be over
so that you can wish the same thing tomorrow
and the next day
and the day after that
hoping to maybe feel
just anything
life users don't have track marks
their cross is one made of
slit wrists and ashtrays
and howls to a God
you're not sure exists

Life
not even once

I was told once
that I should take things
just a little more serious
and I seriously considered it
for about a second
before the realization came to me
what's there to be serious about?
we live in a world
in which
the human experience
has been mass produced
packaged
and shipped off
to millions of televisions
around the world
They took serious away from me
without even asking
they made this life into a farce
we spend it all
racing to see who can dig the deepest
like children
until we dig too deep
the soil walls around us
give no footing
and are closing in
faster then calculated.
how can I be serious
when being serious
means a life spent
digging my own grave?

I have seen hell
and let me warn you
don't pack for warmth
hell
so cold
that even the ice cracks
breath comes out
as diamond spears
tearing apart innards
to shatter
among rubies of blood
Hell is every child
who ends up in an office
In fact hell is offices
countless numbers of them
for as far as the eye can see
soulless
lifeless
greedy
Every child who was told
that he was crazy
that in this world
the dreamers
are synonymous
with the failures
and so they sleep
millions of them around the world
sleeping restlessly
dreams which will never come
inside each one of these
dreamers turned adult
you can hear him laughing
idle hands...
you know how it goes
and eventually
when they are finally broken
when death seems as if it's a treat
he shows them
He shows them years spent
poor and hungry
he shows them
endless rejection
and alienation
But
he also shows them
love
passion
satisfaction
A lifetime of dreams
which will never become reality

Words amount to nothing
yet hold more power
than thick leather wallets
bursting apart
green at the seams
on their own
they are just symbols
a vocal vibration
indicative of emotion
hunger
but with the right backing
an idea
an unspoken truth
prayers whispered
over candle light vigils
then they are infinite
no knowledge of death
a light which shows
the true face of fear
a mirror to the self
the true self
bombs which drop
with more force
than Nagasaki
A light so bright
only few can stand to look at it
only words
have the ability
to pass through
the meandering rapids
of time
and they touch us
awoken from life long slumbers
ancestral in power
and they shake us
to our very souls

"Sunny day we're having"
the man quipped
his head fixed firmly on the Formica bar
his words given time to die
and he is rewarded
with nods and broken English
we all knew -
it was sunny
swimming in the silence
not funeral silence,
but post love making silence
a comfortable,
relaxing silence
because it was still sunny
before the words were spoken

It is spring time
everything new
everything so fresh
so young
It is spring time
and we go off into the world
bright eyed
and alive to the cosmic mystery
skinned knees
and bruises
a black and blue childhood
which sounds of laughter
silly games
and we knew
that we were up to no good
but nobody ever told us to do good
the sun catches the dust
which is expunged
by our bicycles
exposed
globs of ice cream
fall off the cone
mutilated on the pier
tears shared
with countless others
before us
but we were still pure
children in the spring time
a smile on our lips
and the unknown in our eyes

It is summer
awoken in the pleasant morning
when the early sun
peered through the blinds
passion and sweat
and the knowledge of change
like fire flies
we try our best
to capture time in a jar
never realizing
that it was dead
phosphorescent smiles
which don't beam
quite so brightly
in the throes of our
adolescence
the sun is hot
and we are burned
for climbing too high
clipped angel wings

It is fall
and nothing could be so
appropriate
without our knowledge
we fell for the trap
a hole
seemingly endless
rushes past us
blind and screaming
after a while
the sensation dulls
and falling is just a part
of everyday life
but we always remember the sun
and always resent the blackness

It is winter
tendrils of cold mist
snake around our bones
tightening until they crack
we shrink down to the size of children
and gravity pulls us down
a lifetime of contemplation
has revealed
a lifetime wasted
but our eyes are dry
tears like icicles
we drive them into our eyes
we wish to see no more
we are in a cave
low light dies against the walls
and it is cold in here
but we will never get out now
at least not until next spring
when the ice melts
and it all starts over again

no matter how well
he thinks he knows her
he always can find
some mystery
when he looks into her eyes
they change from brown
to hazel to green
like a mood ring
he loves her crazy
so much so
that he is far from sane
so unpredictable
she kills him again and again
only to revive him
and he loves it
loves the way
she looks back at him
and he isn't sure
if she'll kiss him
or set his bed on fire
say what you will
it's always nice
to have
some mystery

Every time I sit down
to maybe write a poem
it wears me down
I start the day off
full of last night's dreams
and draw them out
one by one
but each one
takes a little something with it
a little part of me
as I shrivel up
an emaciated shell
exhausted
there is nothing left
I crawl into bed
to be replenished
in my sleep

I am scared of the dark
not because I fear the lack of light
might let all of the monsters out
and will make the skeletons chatter
I fear the dark
not because it's violent
but because it's peaceful
not because it's chaotic
but because it's calm
I am scared of the dark
because I am left alone
with myself
with my mind
which can be the worst monster of all

It's a hot commodity
yeah it's expensive
but it's worth it
so reach into those wallets
plastic only please
if you don't buy this
your kids won't fit in
they won't excel
this is just what's in right now
what's a little cash
when compared to being current
so keep on marching
left right left right
cows on a conveyor belt
about to be killed
shipped out and consumed
our brains
such a hot commodity

Me and you
are broken
in different places
so that we
fit together
like a jigsaw puzzle

You so frenetic
so open
you are a hurricane
people always remember
when you pass through
venting your insecurities

Me so passive
not a care in the world
always out of touching distance
I am a rock
covered in moss
always numb

we fit together
like a jigsaw puzzle
and together
through our flaws
we make a picture
which is so beautiful

He sits on the curb
unaware of the time
only knowing
that it is night
and that it has been
over twenty-four hours
since he last slept
his head between his knees
he tries to disappear
If I can't see them
then they can't see me
has a home
but no home worth going to
and he has a 250ml bottle
of whiskey in a brown paper bag
the night is still
cold and dead
people ask him
son, is everything okay?
he smiles
he nods
he goes on sitting on that curb
kissing that brown paper bag
is everything okay?
things are never okay
he doesn't remember when he first noticed
maybe around the time of the divorce
but he has noticed
and now he can't stop
so he sits on the curb
drunk and slovenly
waiting for something
he knows will never come

Crazy
one word
which says so much
what is more crazy
than defining sanity
they say I'm crazy
I say who isn't
I'm sane because I know
that to be sane is impossible
my mind wanders
and sometimes it races
sometimes I think so much
that I get paranoid
and hide beneath the covers
so that maybe
I can sleep forever
But if I'm crazy
then it means there is no hope for the sane
a massive army which covers the globe
from pole to pole
tropic to tundra
seemingly infinite
they walk around
filling their humanity
with nifty trinkets
like magpies
they see something shiny
and take it back to their nests
where their malnourished children
feed on the neglect
I might be crazy
and thank God for that

I'm just starting out
there is so much which I haven't seen
or done
so much life I haven't tasted
and more that I never will
but it's good
for the first time
I have the reins
and I removed them
and my horse became wild
bucking me off
but I clutch
arms around its thick neck
and soon it forgets about me
It takes me to strange places
unseen by a civilized eye
beautiful temples
which steal the breath
from within your lungs
emerald forests which go on for miles
canyons carved out
by ancient warriors of old
abandoned alien metropolises
and the image of God
the universe is gigantic
but it's only getting bigger
I may just be starting out
but I am so excited
for what's to come

boys and girls
like oil and water
meet in the electric darkness
a ritual as old as time
set to the pounding
of mechanical drums
boys and girls
they don't see it
but they are each other
fatally flawed to perfection
and they see something
a spark off the flint
and they mistake it for love
because they allow each other
to love themselves
boys and girls
hiding from
men and women
try not to grow up
but a broken clock
is right twice a day
and they have run out of hiding places
their limbs burning
with lactic acid
they finally see
the toxic insignia
a skull and crossbones
no warning labels
this will **** you
so they separate
and you'd better believe
that it was ugly as hell
yelling and screaming and violence
all in the name of self-loathing
boys and girls
just looking for somebody
who is looking for them

I am a lover
not a fighter
a writer
but not a typer
although I type what I write
on occasion
and I fight what I love
almost all the time
if opposites attract
then love is just
one big beautiful contradiction
a clashing of ideals
and I fight for what I love
on occasion
sorry but its like i said
I've never been much of a fighter
but I do fight
every single day
to find a love worth fighting for
and to type something
worth writing about

just one more poem
it's a frantic rush
peripheral vision blacks out
pin point visions of tunnels
voices meld together and become music
the keyboard
or pen
or pencil
are instruments of conduction
that seem to match your heart beat
Just one more poem
you feel it bubbling within
it will die if it doesn't escape
so you write and write and write until
you get it out
crying in the new world
and you love it
until you realize
that there is still one more poem
trapped somewhere deep within you
so you try to save it
you have to save them all
because one day
there won't be time for
just one more poem

A discarded box of chocolates
the box in the shape of a love heart
the lid sits crooked on the damp floor
with a velvet ribbon tied around it
in the box there is a note
the ink stained from the drizzle
for my valentine
half of the chocolate was gone
the other half was melted
and smelled liked the dumpster
which they were abandoned next to
curious I read the note
I can't give you money
but I can give you my heart
actually I can't
so here's this instead
I hope you like it
your valentine
apparently
she did not

Don't be a human being
be a human doing
inspirational fallout
raining on the students of my high school
human doing
it's a funny notion
viewed in plain sight
it meant Carpe Diem
it meant go to college
your valuable brains
crammed with academia
get a job
work your way up
it's the American dream
it is your
Manifest Destiny
meet a swell girl
take her to a chapel
cracked church bells
shattered stained glass windows
now knock her up
you've got a family
better start breaking a sweat
get that promotion
buy yourself a nice suit
because you earned it
******* it
pay your taxes
keep on climbing
up up up
the tower of babel
rack up some zeroes to that pay check
vacation time and comfortable insurance
plus you get dental
year after year
and before you knew it
you're an old guy
your belly has grown
far more rotund than you planned
your wife resents you
because she relies on you
and you don't understand your children
the job has grown bitter
a double shot of cheap bourbon
only it doesn't burn as sweetly
on the way down
and when you feel like
you're enclosed in a tar pit
black liquid creeping down your throat
and up your nostrils
take comfort in knowing
that you were a human doing

Paper runs the world
it stands off
just behind the curtain
counting the roses
taking in the standing ovation
a knowing smirk
beneath hollow eyes
Paper is a vampire
pale and white
it tastes your blood
and takes it from you
drop by drop
an empty husk
to be tossed aside
Paper is a politician
a smooth talking
travelling salesman
come and get your snake oil
you wont live forever
but you will have a lot of stuff
a tribute to your vast
amounts of paper
Paper is green
an embodiment of pestilence
it is the monster
underneath your mattress
or in your closet
locked away in that safe
Some try to live without it
the victim was found bled dry
in a cold empty room
he would leave bread crumbs out
for the mice
that's one hell of a paper cut
and the audience laughs
that's what we're paying them for
all of the precious paper
ruling the world

I hope that I can be
an oaken door
standing wide open
the wind rushing inside
causes the shutters to clap
against the brick walling
and sometime people will leave
and their absence is cold
but maybe someone else
will come in
bringing even more
than the previous resident
and my curtains will be open
so that I may see all outside of me
and so they might
see all that is inside of me
all I can ever hope to be
is open

We fear everything
that we don't know
a snake bite
paralysis
suffocation
we fear everything
we fear ourselves
because they don't impress
we fear others
because their eyes
are the color of denial
we fear communication
because we have nothing to communicate
we fear fear itself
because we know
what it is capable of

Those were the days
before I knew about money
and before a relationship
seemed so **** appealing
those were the days
when we still had play time
twice a day in the school yard
and played guns with our fingers
bang bang you're dead
those were the days
when we were chased off of the farm
for climbing the bails of hay
angry farmers in tractors
those were the days
when my mother wanted me to come home
she would yell out of the front window
and I could hear
all the way from the church wall
those were the days
when summer holidays
meant the ice cream man
and making dens in the woods
those were the days
when my dad yelled at us
for writing obscenities
on the walls of my tree house
those were the days
when we would race up the tops of trees
not knowing how we would get down
those were the days
now just fond memories

There's an old man
sitting across from me
drinking a small coffee
with his bags of groceries
he sings gently to himself
the songs of his youth
he doesn't get the world today
but he tries hard to
He talks to the strangers
as if they are old friends
or grand children
but nobody has time
not for a lonely old man
who just wants to talk
so he goes on singing
the songs that remind him
of a simpler time
of his youth
when the world was his
before it all became
so **** confusing

If you walk into the coffee shop
where I like to work
or watch
you can look around
at all of the faces
and you just know
who the regulars are
with faces baring more years
than age would show
and five o'clock shadows
they come in with their shirts
not ironed and untucked
their fingers stained yellow
with everything they run from
people don't ask their orders
they just nod and sit down
a tribe of people with something to say
but nobody to listen

I saw you waiting at the bus bench
a cigarette gripped between your lips
an act of defiance
you were looking at your cell phone
impatiently
what were you waiting for
I noticed you down the street
your red hair blazing
the color of passion
your face looked hard
strong
prepared
and I wondered where you were going
It's funny but
I almost followed you onto that bus
but I didn't
I just waited by the bus bench
a cigarette in my lips
an act of imitation
as you drove away

I saw perfection once
out of the corner of my eye
it was so bright
that I could only look
for just a moment
but in that moment
I saw something
which made me question
if God might in fact
be shaping our lives
It was over before it started
and we all felt confused
and sedated
at ease with the world
as if we were ******
But I knew
that the perfect moment
would have been just another moment
if we weren't there
with the corner of our eyes
trapped in a moment

When his day comes
he will walk out
his head held high
he aint no saint
but he accepts that
he is what he is
and he was always told
to never apologize
for being himself
But still
he's no stranger to shame
or sinning
but he will be judged
with a smile on his face
because he knows the secret
because he lived his own life
and would never be sorry
for that

He's the type of guy
who does it until he is gone
everything he does
he throws himself in
the type of guy
who spends his mornings in coffee houses
and his nights at the bar
he smokes cigarettes
almost two packs a day
he's suicidal
he just doesn't like to rush things
he feels the pressure
always on top of him
and he is an expert of running
even though he knows
it will never work
but he's restless
so he'll keep waking himself with drink
and putting himself to sleep with it
until he has made his mark
or until he is gone

When the bottle's empty
times are at their hardest
the weight of world brings me down
with every step I take
when the bottle's empty
is when you most need it
Like a good friend
moving across the country
you remember all of the good times
the long shared laughter
the caught tears
when the bottle is gone
and the world once again starts creeping in
it's best to go pick up a six pack
at the twenty four hour gas station

It's amazing that
in spite of everything
she can still smile
tricked into thinking
she needs make up to
make her self beautiful
this world has made her
unknowingly bipolar
a cold *****
or a ****
she can take her pick
but she still smiles
somehow in the afternoon sun
down by the James river
she dips her feet in
and her smile
outshines the sun

We lost our ball of yarn at birth
the bread crumbs are all gone
we were tossed into the raging sea
black, thick, and malevolent
and all too self aware
the waves thrashed us again and again
blasts of lightning stab the horizon
the fury of the Gods
as riptides pull us in all directions
we beat our arms
and receive no guidance
some of us drown
our lungs filling with a cold void
some of us get caught in large nets
we are dragged on board squinting and mad
we are mistaken for fish
because we gasp for air
the rest of us wash up
on trash islands
and rocky crags
ruins of civilization
crumble around us
the earth bone dry
we wash up and form colonies
or are accepted
by the local cannibals
we are driven mad
by the knowledge
that one day we must return
to the welcoming clutches of the sea
we paint scenes depicting the glory
and struggles of the legendary human
with hopes that one will catch a draft of hot air
and will carry us off into the clouds
but until then
we wander a dead globe

I knew this girl once
I think I knew her
but who can ever really know?
Nothing ever came of it
always too late
too scared
too scared that you couldn't want me
and who could blame you
I never have
She went away to college
and I was busy
doing my own thing
But I never forgot
the way you would blush
and hide your smile
when I said something nice
And maybe you never forgot
all the times I made you laugh
always something stupid
I remember how nervous you got
in the center of attention
maybe you never wanted it
but you always deserve it

And I know
that you're going places
big cities with dazzling lights
endless tall buildings
never sleeping
but dreaming of you
And I'm heading off
to places of my own
hoping that our trains
are heading towards each other
so that just for
one moment of disaster
my body may fly pas yours
and I would smile
or wink
or nothing at all
perhaps I would just look

The worst part about it
is I would throw it all away
so that I could get back
all of the too lates
the too scareds
and all of the stupid stuff
which I haven't told you
but you wouldn't want that.
To be held so responsible
for the machine gun rhythm
of my heart beat
So I don't
my time machine left empty
I trudge one
doing whatever the hell
It is that I do
while your star
only burns brighter
I live in a breath of hope
hoping to feel your breath
just one more time

Say something
Say anything
Please
For the love of God
don't be silent
there's too much already
put the phone down
better yet toss it
as far as you can
step away from the computer
and don't stop until
you meet somebody
who draws the words out of you
and you them

You are a city
during Christmas time
full of life and light
love like a blanket of snow
You are a city
in the Spring time
when the sun rises
over the river
painting the skyline with embers
You are a city
when the leaves change
and even after the birds fly south
the sound of you singing
makes us forget them
You are a city
on a Summer night
sitting on the back porch
watching the fireflies
as they mimic the stars
You are a city in which buildings
only grow taller
You are a city
which I would like to call home

It was 5:30 when he woke up
a text message alarm clock
vibrated into consciousness
"still on for the beach?"
is what it read
but he wasn't sure
if his head was still on
yesterday clings to today
but promises are promises
made to be broken

so he met Kyle
at the beach house
down the road
they got beach chairs
and enough cigarettes
to make his mother faint

They walked to the beach
not another soul
as far as their eyes would take them
the sun bounced off the ocean
stabbing their eyes
discarded useless sunglasses
he climbed into the water
green liquid ice
virginal purity
which washed the slate clean
a long list of forgotten memories

He wakes up before the sun
Park benches and alleyways
cardboard boxes and piles of coats
he has nests all over the city
strategically placed
near the corner shop
fast food places
and liquor stores
on a good day
he can buy three
twenty-two ounces of Budweiser
so that by night time
he can forget himself
forget you
forget me
forget his home
a damp concrete floor
and a shirt pocket
filled with loose cigarettes
He wakes up before the sun
until the day comes
when he won't

I am like a camel filter
you know, the brand i smoke
you said that you loved the smell
but hated the taste
I'm a bad habit
that you don't want to start
because while i'm killing you slowly
I'll whisper reassurances in your ears
and long after your lungs are black
and you stand face to face
with death
I will still be here
looking for a new victim to poison

would you
hold my hand
on a day
when I truly need all of you?
would you forget
all of my stupidity
and the senseless ****
which falls from my mouth?

would you kiss me
when I feel bad?
when all of the world
seems to weigh down on me
and it all get's to be
too much
I just want you
and only you
would you make me feel
immortal?

would you wake me up
when I sleep in too late
and forget the world?
but don't forget
I will always need you
deep in my heart
would you tell me
everything I want to hear?

In my dreams
we stand together
bare footed
on the grass
of our rural Georgia home
or maybe
we are out west
born again pioneers
trekking on through
the California sunshine

In my dreams you would be happy
all because of me
and in my dreams
you would feel safe
and would call me
your better half
your rock
your one and only
with nothing but compliments
coming from your lips

In my dreams you would support me
and I you
and we would revel
in each other's success
and we would wake together
in the sober morning light
to the pretty sounds of birds
perfectly content
moving only forward

whatever I may conjure in my sleep
rest assured you are there