i have not tried to crash my car in nearly three weeks,
so i guess you could say i'm doing better.
my mind sometimes refuses to resist
the need for liquor that my body screams.
my lips are constantly searching for yours;
with every bottle i press against them,
i can never seem to find yours.
all of my jeans are too big now,
my ribs are prominent and my collarbones
sticking out like they are misplaced on my body.
i guess a diet of popcorn and stale cigarettes will
do that to you.
i find myself constantly tempting fate in the worst ways possible,
in a desperate yearning
to find you again.
i have gone absolutely mad from missing you.
i write poem after poem,
they are all unfinished.
hours later, i will read my words,
repelled at how they fail to do what i want them to.
i still sleep on the left side of the bed,
refusing to touch your side in fear that i will wake you up.
i swear sometimes i will wake up to the sound of you in the shower,
and then realize it's simply
the rain battering at my window,
mocking me.
i remember asking my mother
three weeks after the accident:
"will i ever laugh again?"
"of course you will sweetie,
when something is really, really funny"
that was the first and only time my mother ever lied to me,
and i know she didn't mean to
because she genuinely thought it to be true.
two years, three months and fifteen days have passed.
some things are really, really funny.
i do not laugh.
i only feel guilty that you are not there to laugh
with me.

the stars look down
at campers in the night
who are strong men
and brave
who will not renounce a fight
but the stars are high
nothing they haven't seen
that creeps in the dark
with ear splitting screams
so while we are beneath them
they may feel a sense of
duty and protection
to all men.
so in the eve
they gather up
their fierce fires
and soft twinkles.
finally, into time
standing disoriented
the shine, and at dawn
they falter down
and fly off to guard
another land of glorious God
                                                *p.t.

We walked in silence,
Into a field after woods,
Suddenly— the moon.

I hope you find your Walden.
I hope it helps you discover
those things about you
that I do love.

the tick in the clock
the chatter of an ignition
dishes clanking
Mr. Everywhere
nowhere to be seen
the lungs don't show the lifetime spent escaping
times are cold
but it's too hot in the kitchen
make me a transient drifter
with a handkerchief on a stick
eating an apple
in a boxcar making it's way through cold night
make me disappear a wrangler
an outlaw
delete my typos
and move me to the recycling bin

Tell me where to draw the line in the sand
Between being a brother
And being a father figure

Sands of times
Life lines are drawn with a big stick
Theodore Roosevelt is smiling on a young all american clueless teenager turned young soldier worrying about things no others should struggle with
A 16 year old dealing with social rejection and seclusion
A 13 year old trying to find where holding hands stops and tongues meet
A 7 year old who has migranes daily from a father who never was

I can't drawn straight lines
A rocking chair watches the tides wash away a single phrase

Help

I just want to know
When a beautiful smile
Will be more
Than just another
Lost cause

There's a deep engulfing evil that I fear to know.
There's a physical suffering that I do not like to show,
and a pleasure I have learned to know is you.
Your disastrous fate, your someone I hate.

Losing you makes me stronger,
hating you makes me lust no more with the lingering of forbidden sickened thoughts.
I hunger for the Diamond,
thirst for the pain and attention,
cutting for the feel of perfection.
I'm not an image of good or bad.
I'm not invisible but you act like I am.
I'm not that perfect serain blade to your skin.
I'm not that last cut to make you feel better,
I'm the thought of you gone bitter.