Nothing's right
Nothing's wrong
Sitting back watching the play
Sitting back in the lyrics of the song
Listening to the voices long since past
Wondering, Waiting
How long will it last
The final scene,
The last stanza,
The tragic end,
What will it all mean
The learning,
The giving,
The pretending,
Unspoken understanding
It's all part of living

A stilted stay, a pregnant pause,
as shadows sharpen midnight claws.
A dimming dome oppressed by night,
smiles weakly on this parasite.

It enters as a Trojan horse,
along a crawled collision course.
Its hollow husk holds silent spies,
who have no room for alibis.

This craven creature starts to nest,
in memories you'd long repressed
and darts behind your mood's eclipse,
a smirk of sadness on its lips.

From weary womb the beast begets,
its offspring weaned upon regrets.
Until it stirs with needle teeth,
to tear the tenderness beneath.  

It stalks from shade, a grievance grown,
to steal the thoughts that were your own.
Its brittle bark a bare refrain,
before it leaps and snaps the chain.

I promised myself I wouldn't drink
This morning, but
Ring of Fire was playing on the
Radio as I showered.

I guess we shared some demons, J.
Well, here's to us. To how
My father played your songs
For me when only my mother's

Skin and bones were between us.
Here's to you and me, John.
How I cried when June passed, but
Drank to your joining her. To

How you boom-chika-boomed to
The taste of the ice cold beer on her
Warm lips in New Orleans
As we stopped among the piles of

Katrina rubble just to take it all in
(Including each other);
That we were there. Together.
Here's to you, John. To how Rick

Rubin was a prophet sharing your light
One last time with the humble masses
Before it went out. As it should be. As it
**** well should be. To

How my father loved you his whole life
And never got to shake your hand
(But I brought him to meet Willie,
Which was almost as intense to the old man.)

No rest for the wicked, John. So I'll
Never pray that you rest in peace.
I pray that you rock on -June at your
Side- Going to Jackson, when it's

Springtime in Alaska. Remembering
Forks wedged in the walls of San Quentin
And gritty glasses of water served.
I'm putting on my black shirt after

This drink. Then guitar, boots that could
Kick out the foot lights at the Grand Ole,
And an attitude I've adopted with honor.
Here's to us, John.

Walking the
God-
******
Line.

I remember how fast it went.
how everything changed when I started to fall for you.
I think it was a Tuesday that I first realized that I wanted to be around you more
it was the next Wednesday that I realized  liked you.
a month later I thought I was in love
in a year you made crash in burn in depths of the earth
you made me cry
you made me laugh
and to this day I still say your name when I'm thinking about him
its scary how similar you guys are
but you
you were completely different from everyone else
you made me feel different
and that scares me to the depths of my soul.
because you were my biggest regret and my hardest fall.
and you never once said I'm sorry..

I once knew a man
who said,
"Invest while you can."
I told him I didn't have any money.
"Well, I can't help you then."

I once met this kid
who told me his sins.
I couldn't say why,
I hardly knew him.
"You've a trustworthy face,
and you're leaving tomorrow."
But I never asked to be burdened by his sorrow.

I once loved a girl
who became my world.
I clung to her every single last word.
Then she was gone
to leave me in silence.
I replaced it with noises of hatred and violence.

I once had a choice
to make something new,
but I still hear her voice
telling me what to do.

I once spent a night
with a spirited punk.
Willful and passionate,
but down on his luck.
We painted the town red
and made Down the new Up.

I once read a book
that spelled out my life.
A real page turner,
though I know it's all lies.

Someone once told me
not to live in the past.
"Be here right now,
the future comes fast."
But I often look back
to cry or to laugh,
and on nights such as these
I'll write epitaphs.

I'm tired of standing in front of the bathroom mirror and picking myself apart every morning. I grab at the skin on my waist and ask myself "why?", I drag my fingers through my knotted hair in disgust and I pinch my thighs, wishing they would get smaller. I've been so set on being society's idea of perfection that I had not slowed down to notice how beautiful I really could be. The freckles running down my neck, like constellations in the northern sky, the curls in my hair laying over my shoulders and the roses blooming in my cheeks. I stood in the mirror and looked myself in the eyes and noticed my pupils darken and grow larger because I really do love myself. I used to only care about what you thought of me and the day you threw me away, I threw myself away too. But today, that's not the case. I'm picking myself back up and putting myself back together. I love who I am as a person and that's enough.

These feelings need to die
Because they aren't doing me any good.
They've already grown roots-
Holding onto the deepest part of my mind.
& it *****.
It really really *****.
Cause it's all I think about.
It's all I see when I turn around.
& I know, oh, I know,
How dangerous these thoughts can be.
So I'll grab a knife to
Cut out these silly little feelings.
I'll take a hammer
And nail my heart up.
I'll layer bricks high
Just to keep you out of sight.
& though it might hurt just a tad,
It's probably better this way.