If life is a highway then friends are a three car pileup
Disaster is waiting, but we still drive
Stay in our lanes and try not to get caught

Music on the stereo still ringing in my ears
As I fly through the windshield
Asphalt catching at my skin and ripping through my faded denim jeans

Just broken glass and bent metal holding our bodies
In macabre poses for the morning edition
In other news, everybody goes in the end

But I get up and you get up and the cars keep going by
Like a wreck never happened
And we don’t matter at all

Laying back on the grass
Watching as the clouds take shape
Melt and reform
Flying through the sky above
I can taste the springtime air
Turning warmer as the wind blows through the trees
Cold water from the mountains courses through the river, swollen and covering the banks
It feeds the trees and plants, like entropy has slowed, the clock turns back while time goes forth
And I empty my words with a voice full of force
Pushing them, shaking violently, and it all explodes at once like a cork from a bottle top
I bellow into the air, to nobody in particular.
“This, this is what I’ve been waiting for!”

My head is a blank page,
but it's filling up with notes
all the things I can't help thinking
sing out from my soul
nimble fingers moving
playing out their song
so be my instrument
and make music with me
sing ourselves a sweet lullabye

**** and cigarette smoke mingles with exhaust and the smell of cooking food
The homeless and the elite businessman walk side by side with tourists and hipster girls, and so few stop and stare, to gawk at the urban sprawl of the city, regally scraping at the cloudless sky, fingers hoping to grasp at god
The trolley bell, the scream of distant sirens, the shuffling of feet scraping the ***** sidewalk, the hydraulic hiss of brakes, the music of construction workers pounding and making and fixing, the blare of traffic horns and laughter and serious conversations of passersby in so many voices and tongues all combine like some cosmic tune, a discordant harmony that speaks to the very nature of city life
I feel the wind blowing through my hair as it carries pigeons and trash and the branches of the trees wave their greeting to the people, a friendly universe choked by stone and asphalt and metal shapes, but life will not be constrained, and so the city prospers and we go on and on, not as cogs in some machine, but cells in a body, growing, changing and shaping the whole

Etched into the flesh
With the permanency of a tattoo
But it tells another story
Like the medals of bravery soldiers dare not speak of the horrors they survived to earn
You carry them always
They commemorate the struggle
They are dark shooting stars forming constellations of wishes that were never granted
But carry them without shame, without self doubt, without self pity
They are not random marks, but battle scars from the wars that most will never see
You did not deserve them, but you’ve earned a right, the place reserved for veterans, the unspeakable survivors who can share their stories only with each other, often more with glances of emotion than words
Take pride that you have overcome the overwhelming, that you’ve weathered the worst storms and you have come to where you are, wearing scars
They say war is hell and no one really wins but you held back demons who clawed at things much deeper than just skin
Remember for the fallen, they must not have died in vain
Live on in their memory, take victories in their name

It struck me suddenly
The sinking feeling
That I know so little about you
The tip of the iceberg is all
The ship can see from the surface

But I am not afraid of sinking
The descent into
The depths of knowing you
The unrevealed parts of yourself
That I might discover and explore

A man walks into a bar
He sits down at a table and sobs violently
He takes out his hunting knife and begins to carve words into the wood
This is what he writes:

There is no point in a suicide note
I am the last survivor
I have wandered in desolation for five years and found nothing but destruction and the ravenous creatures
Empty shells, a hungry remnant of humanity
I suppose if there is life out there, one day this may be found and it will be an explanation and a monument of sorts
These crude etchings, an echo of ancient times
It is not for me, but for all of us
We killed ourselves, this so called human race
Now with the last of my life, I write
How foolishly, I waste myself on chronicling my journey to my journey’s end, how human it is
Because I exist, I am “in myself and for myself" but my philosophies will die soon
I am the last heat in a dying coal, the exhalation of a dying man, and so as I cease to exist, humanity goes extinct.

He finished writing, and felt his leg
The open wound left blood on his hand
He checked,
one left,
cold metal on his temple
He grimaced,
and with a big bang,
the world ends

Two people can feel so inadequate
But often they are good enough
And what’s more
Good for each other
The human condition
To be fearful and worried and insecure
The survival based instincts
That keep us emotional scavengers
It can be overcome
Optimism may be embraced
By those who try
But it often takes two
It is not good to be alone
We work best together
Some powerful synergy
Allows us to be so much more
Than as individuals
We ever could be
Or ever were
This is the beauty of the human experience
We can refine ourselves and redefine ourselves
The pain becomes creativity
The fear becomes love
The struggle becomes enjoyment
All of the negativity can be reversed
And what was old and used up can become new again
We can remake the world

I’ve always been running
Mostly running away
Fleeing from something
Never felt like there was anything
Worth running toward
Nothing to pursue
Until now
Until you

That because I am open
And honest
And hate secrets
That there are no parts of me
That I keep reserved

They are almost right
But there are some hidden things
That I have kept inside myself
Because they frighten me


I may be an open book
But certain pages stick

Perhaps I will share my whole self
Perhaps even those parts
One day

There is a saying “Those who hesitate are lost"
Another says “Good things come to those who wait"
But isn’t hesitating the same as waiting? So do good things come to those who are lost?

How about this one “Quitters never win and winners never quit"
But also we were told “Quit while you’re ahead"
I want to win, but I’m doing well. So do I walk away or stay? Not sure, I can’t really tell.

What’s the difference? Saying this and that. The contradictions and mixed emotions and cliche bad advice. Isn’t it swell? It’s so nice.
I will wait but I won’t quit. I’m at a loss for why I’d walk away. And I am winning, never losing, getting good things, all in good time.
Here’s some sound advice, forget the stupid sayings. And just say you’re staying.

If I had my way, I’d pack my bags and never look back twice
Life can’t be constantly running
The friction wearing down my soul
I must find solace
I must find escape
I must find peace
I must find my way

I am so tired if the turmoil within
The constant struggle
The raging storm
The never ending tug of war
Does the journey end or isn’t a journey?
I would have my rest
But perhaps there is none
No stopping
No slowing
Keep running
Keep going


I will carry on
Continue with the life I live
Perpetually in motion
Hoping for a moment’s reprieve from the chaos within and without
It may have to be enough
That I am not alone
That there are others like me
Knowing the same trials I have known

I had a dream
I was on a Ferris wheel
It never stopped
Turn after turn
And you were in the car in front of me
And you were just out of reach
Turn after turn
When I was at the top
You were going down
When I was at the bottom
You were going up
Turn after turn

Have you ever had something heavy on your chest,
Or run out of air in your lungs before you reached the surface?
Have you ever seen a storm rage from inside the eye?
Have you ever felt like you were running as fast as you could but not going anywhere?
Do you feel like destroying yourself, and do you want to start over?
Do you wake up in the mornings and find yourself utterly dissatisfied with being awake?
Have you ever wanted to just run away from your problems,
Or have you wanted to ignore them till they go away?
Have you ever been told that it gets better and not believed it?
Have you ever wanted to-

I looked up at the moon
She had wasted away
She was crying, her tears splattering with a rhythmic pitter patter on my roof

As I lay in my bed, watching her cry,
She wrapped herself in clouds
Perhaps a veil of mourning

A few nights later, the sky was empty, black but for little bits of light poking through from far away

But the next night, I looked up
She was there, barely there,
But she was gaining strength
Becoming her old self again
Each night she grew stronger and fuller until she was the only thing in the sky, filling the horizon
She shined brightly
I could see her
And I could hear her humming, her song whistling through the branches of trees, tapping a beat on my window pane, singing me to sleep

Oh the moon, she comes and goes
But every night I see her
Sometimes she grows brighter
Sometimes she shrinks into herself
But every night she is beautiful
And everyday I wait for night to come so I may see her

I sit, surrounded by soft nature sounds and sights and smells
Soft streams pour into the pond, I see, I smell
The fish frolic, staying under the surface, snapping at flies
Yet underneath it all is something unnatural
Man made, made for man and nature knows not why
Caught in a cage of water and wood, the creatures will exist, ever ignorant in their plight, in their pond
In a flight of fancy, I free the fish, scooping each with net or fist from their watery prison, in the the pond imprisoned, but in my care they are free fish, no cage or cell, I set them free
They frolic on the floor, flipping, flopping, doing the dance of the free

There is no practice
We’re always playing for keeps
And yet knowing that fact
Has never helped me sleep

Monday, I wake and think of you
Tuesday, I approach you with caution
Wednesday, we meet for coffee
Thursday, we fall for one another
Friday, we’re in the throes of passion
Saturday, you’re feeling sorrow and regret
Sunday, you forget my name
Monday, I wake and think of you

There is a place where you can find everything except what you are looking for

We have snacks that will make you gassy for your first date

CD players that only skip when the song you love comes on

Seeds that grow into roses that smell lovely only when you are in too much of a hurry to appreciate their perfume

We have the book that comes next after the one you can’t find time to read

A brand of cola that will give you hiccups everytime

A box of stale Life on sale for just three cents more than you have on you

This is the one and only Inconvenience Store

Never closed, you’re always welcome but the

Coupons expire right when you get to the door

We have the most delicious hot coffee that you will always spill

The local newspaper for a town you’ve never heard of

And the gallon of milk you were supposed to get but it expired yesterday

We used to have a poster of Murphy’s Law hanging on the wall

But the store burnt to the ground

We rebuilt it even bigger than before

Now people are calling it Life

But I still remember it as the Inconvenience Store

you ever feel like we’re too connected?
like everything is so crowded and jammed up that we don’t notice each other
the little things, the stop to smell the roses moments pass us by
and we are rushing from here to there
to and fro
ants in an ant farm
squished unknowingly up against the glass

the sun glares down
like a hungry beast
we scurry into our holes and hideouts
communicating in ones and zeros
but always missing the point

we seek meaning and passion and excitement
but complain we have no courage
our lives move and move like rafts on the Mississippi
But I had better things to do than read Huck Finn

hours of mindless entertainment
and then no inspiration
endless desert of desperation and depression
hop from one city to the next
no end in sight

run from problems
hide from anything that could make life exponentially better
callous and fearless and crude
joking about life and death to cope with grief

take everything for granted
burn bridges, never let them see you cry
let the status quo control you
go to college, get a job
don’t be a burnout, dropout, failure

let them define happiness
and let them measure my success

overweight
sunburned
living in a garage
if that’s not success

I don’t know what is

the adolescent american dreaming of easy money

can’t even drive a car

I need glasses and new pants
bought running shoes
but I’m only running from my problems

bury my anger and depression
nervous laughing
crack a joke, as long as you don’t crack
you’re fine


talk about your goals
but only half-heartedly pursue them
like a cop who wants the donuts more than the punks he chases

I want a wife, a life, of happiness with kids and a house
a degree and income
talk about religion and philosophy
read books, but never bother to finish

inconsistent, and never complete
talk when you don’t know what you’re saying
never admit “I don’t know”

count your friends on one hand
but don’t let it know what the other hand’s doing
my mind has a mind of its own
I never bother to follow through
like a tree that is uprooted by the storm
struck with wanderlust I fly away

I trust strangers more than friends and family
Because strangers never stay,
Which means they never leave.
And if my home is where my heart is
Am I homeless or just heartless?
It seems like nothing’s working,
And forever ended weeks ago.
I am running out of time
By lying in my bed;
I sleep and dream awake
Thoughts go through my head
For hours and hours
Time is flying by.
No sleep comes near to me
And I am lying all alone
In the darkness I call my home.
I just wanted something solid
Something to call my own.

It is thoughts and expectations
which bring us pain

In life, we return
to that which hurts us

Whatever makes us sad
we will not forget

I can’t stop thinking
I can’t stop over thinking

Regrets are moments that
remind us how we got to be where we are

I cannot forget the faces
of the people who I’ve hurt

And if I am sad,
what are they feeling right now?

Do they think about me
like I think about them?

Do they spend their nights
returning to suffering?

Do you relive the worst fears
and memories you have like I do?

Or do we suffer because
we cannot return to the good parts?

There were good parts,
but those I am quicker to forget.

I wish I was stupid
That I didn’t notice all the pain around me
That I was not a keen observer and deep feeler
I wish that I had a low IQ like broccoli
Laying in the hospital bed, a vegetable
My parents deciding when to pull the plug, “At least he will go to heaven.” They might say

I wish I had the stomach to point to a star in the sky or pick up a grain of sand from the shore and believe that the one in infinity chance was good enough. “I am right. This will save us. It is the best star, the best grain of sand. Truer than all the others. I believe. Improbability be ******.”

I wish things were simple
That I did not feel special, or exempt from the rules of reality
And that I could sleep without nightmares and live without retreating to daydreams.

I wish I was not a cynic
And a pessimist
That I could still hold onto hope
And find beauty even in the harshness and pain

I wish that my faith could be stronger
My belief could be surer
I wish I could not feel the way I do
That I could know love
And find happiness
And accept myself how I am

I wish things would resolve
But like this poem…

We’re all just flesh and blood and bone and soul
People don’t belong
In boxes till they’re dead
No labels, no promises and no regrets
Grey areas of utter ambiguity that need no defining or clarifying
Just be and let be
We are flesh and blood and bone and soul
When we fall apart, we put ourselves back together
What can a body do alone?
Never was so good at mourning, so we practised forgetting together
First forget the world
Then forget the way things were
I went to the beach at night and the sand was cold and the air was all salt and seaweed
I walked along the shore, barefoot beneath the stars
Thinking about how things change
The cool, rising tide lapping at my feet
Subtle shifts, breaths and glances
Moments and words exchanged
And then nothing is the same
We are just flesh and blood and bone and soul
It’s all we can ever be
All the rest is make believe, the rules that we are taught to follow
Can you remember the Truth we talked about?
I wish I had words to say that could help to ease the pain
But I can’t save anybody and I can’t fix you
And the only thing worth noting is that souls may live on like memories
That flesh and blood and bone may be gone but nobody has to forget

The bitter taste of loneliness
And a thirst that’s never quenched
Even when I drink up the sun and moon and stars

I am the captain of my ship
I sleep alone amongst the child of a hundred trees
My vessels groans at sea

And the stormy water seeks to drown
But the rain is lovely
And the salt spray will not take me

I seek to find a place where I am safe and sound
But I am adrift for now
Mutinous and cosmic life

The sun and moon and stars stare down
They keep me company
And assure me that I am not alone

Nostalgia tastes bitter in the back of my throat
The memories mingle on the tip of my tongue
Let the old poisons seep out of my pores
The endless catharsis of reminiscing

I choke up a little remembering when
The tears well up in the corners of my eyes
I am cold and hot and a bundle of nerves
I can feel the forgotten feelings

It crawls under my skin and wriggles
I can sense the floodgates opening
The night awakens antique ghosts
I dream a dream of ancient history

Goodbye to the blackest moonlit sky
Goodbye to the pen and white paper
Goodbye to nostalgia bitter and grey
Goodbye to insomnia as sleep takes me

Alone the mirror,
Cracked and ugly
Stares blankly at nothing
Waiting for a face to draw upon
For images protruding
From behind my glassy eyes
Reddened without sleep
Speak softly to the morning me
And tell of unwanted future’s plan
I recklessly endanger hope
For self-satisfying ambitionless wishes
Defying optometry, optimistically,
I see beyond the pleasant and mundane

My mouth tastes sick and sour
Like fear and *****
The nausea comes and goes in waves
I am afraid the night will pass,
But no relief will come
I am the seashore,
Worn down by endless misery
And I would sooner be a desert:
Dry and empty
Than filled with such pain and sorrow
Not for one minute more

I am tired
tired in my soul
tired of being

I am sorry
for what I am
and for that I am

The soulful weary feeling
is worse than the weariness
that sleep can cure

I often wonder
if it would be a kindness
to end humanity

Existing in our state
the modern world
we are all tired

We are worried
and bound to the worry
slaves of our anxieties

To be alive
is to be caught up in thinking
and embroiled in problems

The thoughts stop
only in sleep
or death

starry eyed lovers
looking for
blurry eyed lovers
no sleep
wide eyed lovers
so late

coffee and cigarettes
*** and romance and
reading each other poetry
from old books
laughing and talking until 4 am
and not giving a ****

growing old and grey together
knowing all the secrets and flaws
that make you, you
and me, me

holding each other close
while the storm rages
and the raindrops dance on the roof
and the windows light and shake with each thunderclap
and the cold creeps in
but it can’t get to us because
we have each other for warmth

secrets and jokes that nobody else
shares but us
and nothing can keep us apart
because it is you and me
against the world
fighting back to back
to keep things alright
staying sane for each other

In a single moment
humanity emerges from
the womb; first breath

like the time before time
all is new and white hot
swirling around

the heat and pressure
Behold, a Genesis
man speaks: his world into existence

galaxies set into motion
each of us a god
with our own cosmos

we set the stars in the sky
we are creation
and Creator

In our old age
we reap the benefits
of all we have made
See now, a universe
and it is good