friday night and i'm drowning
sweating and struggling to find the right air for my lungs
you look straight through me

and i feel like calypso
but you pulled at me with blue-veined hands
through white sand and concrete
and this is where i leave you
lips bleeding, your only loyalty to blue velvet sky

we outgrew the fort where we played lovers
still sitting inside, our heads bumping against the ceiling
plates and forks too small
and every time the clock ticks to five i think of you
striding through that door like a giant in a house of fine things

once we thought we wanted to be the greatest
and then we settled for something a few stories down
stopped wishing for skating across wood floors in socks
stopped planting lace for flowers and a sunday preacher
instead we settled for cold dinners and dead peonies in teacups

clutching pillow, laughing
turn the sound off and it looks like i'm screaming
and you're screaming too but for completely different reasons
by lamplight on creaky bed frame with a lone car zooming into the skylight

you were my moon&sun;&stars;
and for you i was the person who knew how to put your stars into constellations
i was a drowning mermaid
something seeming impossible but dangerously real at dawn's light
hands poking through teal-grey surf, clawing clawing

you stepped back and looked down, horrified and delighted
and i stopped being a mermaid and became a gold necklace
a hand adjusting that gold necklace, cool to touch on the nape
with my art school hair and sideways monday never smile

i fought through hell for you
i went through screaming at the top of my lungs
and came out on the other side, trailed by hideous, dark things

i sat on the sand
looking at the gold in my hand and thinking about how it looked bigger the last time i saw it

tonight i died
yesterday is a pebble crushed under my heel
but in time i will rise and fly backwards
swallowing deadly creatures whole, olive eyed and free
drinking rose petals and milk and bursting through brick

ashes become wind and wind blows through hollow tree
i will love again
but this time it will be me

I feel lonely.
And thats very hard to admit.
Though there's always people just out of reach, I am always seemingly lonely.
The people who I tell this to all promise they are there an never beyond my finger tips.
And yet I am lonely.
The wish to just sneak away an leave this world behind is always tucked in plain sight in my mind.
But The fear of those who would hurt there after is worse then the desired pain of the impact. The problem lies within the thought if I die. Are any of the problems solved? Am I any less alone,
Or have I just forced That pain onto the ones who clame to be Within grasp. But if they are to be So near. when I drop towards the ground arms wide ready to leave this all behind will they notice in time to hold out there arms and catch me.
Or will they only see the stain of a smile That once wore proudly across my face.
Not realising in time that it had faded to nothing but a memory I was unable to pry back from my soul.
Would they unknowingly stand by as I didn't dare cry. But hold my head high as I bid goodbye, would I no longer feel lonely if I was in heaven with you.

Drum Gold
Is my tobacco
It has character
And I had a girl once
Who liked Cutters Choice
And I told her it had more additives
And that it burnt hotter
And that Drum Gold had more character
And we spent nights exploring each other's bodies
And smoking Drum Gold
Which she adopted
But that ended
Like all good things
And I've forgotten a lot of those spent nights
And now she smokes Golden Virginia

I was skipping on the concrete tight

rope when the wind swirled beneath my tipping
parapluie and I took flight into the loosely

hanging telephone wires and my voice suddenly
cracked through a handheld, reciting the lyrics of a favorite

symphony.

The closest thing to God my father has ever seen, is dawn at the brim of a lake.
Finding forgiveness in its tides.
Seeking solace in its depths.
Building a chapel on a coasting boat.
Discovering answered prayers hooked on a line.
There’s a hallelujah echoing from the trees, if you stay silent long enough to listen to the birds.
You can find grace in a no wake zone.
I’ve always admired my father for unveiling hidden faith in the heart of nature.
For developing a catch and release mantra.
Feel and withdraw.
Love and surrender.
Live and abdicate.
I’ve never been much of a believer in God until I saw the same light at dawn in my father’s irises.
I found the same forgiveness in his hands.
I sought solace in his mind.
I built a chapel on his morals.
And discovered answered prayers in the strength he hooked in me.
I am silent and still, hearing a hallelujah echoing every time he says he’s proud.
I have found grace in knowing we share the same blood.
My father loves me like a prize winning fish at the end of his line.
He reels me in, and lets me go.
Because he knows I was never born to be a trophy.
I was born to be a legend.
Catch and release.
Love and surrender.
That’s how I know, and how I believe.
For only God could design such a man.