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Jack Nov 2018
Flies in the ashtray, karmic demands,
Hope in your eyes and blood on your hands,
Lips taught as bowstrings, fingers sharpened to hooks,
So far from the heroes you read in your books,
Daydream dereliction, sweet spinning wheel sting,
A straw dog sunrise and stained-glass wedding ring,
That heretic’s halo, your sandcastle throne,
A superficial wound that cuts to the bone,
Such pretty perdition, a fresh-paved descent,
Perfectly cast for the role of satisfied malcontent,
Inhale those excuses, wear victimhood like a crown,
Place blame on the ocean for letting you drown,
Adrift on a tightrope, breathe twilight’s dull hue,
Expecting those same roads to lead someplace new,
Await the whispers of morning, awake and a wreck,
The first breath of spring on the back of your neck,
Search for sincerity’s semblance, some echo of truth,
A fragment of hope in the splinters of youth,
But you found only fractures, sins never confessed,
As some tiny voice claws deep inside of your chest,
Heard but unanswered, it calls out just to say,
That this place is your home. You built it this way.
Jack Oct 2018
The temptation that the Siren sings,
A slow wave back from shore,
The sorrow that tomorrow brings,
A hundred days, a thousand more,

Casting lines of smoke and steam,
In search of great white whale,
The tragedy with which we dream,
The grace with which we fail,

A map carved upon a liar’s tongue,
Teach us to speak, but never say,
White knuckled on bottom rung,
From which we swing and sway,

As laughter consumes the setting sun,
Those echoes keep us company,
The first regret tells us we’ve just begun,
The last reminds us we’re still free,

But we awake to find familiar coasts,
Ships still bottled on their shelves,
And we realize we’re all just ghosts,
That don’t believe in themselves.
Jack Oct 2018
As you faded out of focus in my eye, twisted and caught,
We watched our lives become an end to a means we both forgot,
It was a refracted reflection of a memory suppressed,
An imperfect imperfection, half-thought and second-guessed,
And so I focused on commotion, let the years pass me by,
I said that love was all I needed right before I said goodbye,
Now I know the dark side of desire like the back of my hand,
And you know the terror of a life that went exactly as planned,
Complacently counting down the hours till the days do us in,
We tiptoe through the flowers as the flames flicker and spin,
It slipped right through my fingers, ****** knuckles black and blue,
My life flashed past my eyes and all I thought about was you,
And the way we fit together in the shards of shattered dreams,
With souls lighter than feathers, yet still gnawing at our seams,
Desperately clinging to beliefs so we have something left to lose,
But I know we can’t call it fate if this is something that we choose,
So I stand here with no answers, only more unoffered prayers,
And a wound forever burning that no amount of time repairs.
Jack Oct 2018
Behind the shelter that you built so you could justify the storm,
You reinforce the walls, and burn your books to keep it warm,
Stacking manufactured facts so you can barricade the door,
Safe inside that padded room where they can’t hurt you anymore,
Without a war, our will to fight will set its sights upon a brother,
In the absence of opposition, it seems we’ll settle for each other,
It was an addiction to the motion that helped to justify the spin,
But maybe the world will come together as the walls cave in,
Just know that when you win you win, but you learn only in loss,
You could help shoulder the burden if you just put down that cross.
Jack Sep 2018
This little light of mine has lost its shine,
Turned grey and rotted on the vine,
And left no spark to light my way,
Just the sweet reward of slow decay,
And a coldness that I can’t embrace,
In this harsh and unforgiving place,
Where poets fight in search of cause,
And angels go to dull their claws,
Now shake and shiver, dance and spin,
On the grave of all the may have been,
As I seek new substance to console,
The absence of what made me whole,
With fingers warmed by sweet hindsight,
Clinging to memories still bathed in light,
Maybe I was too busy chopping firewood,
To see the fields where forests stood,
And so focused on stoking that blaze,
I lost tomorrow through the smoky haze,
Now left with only cautionary tales,
And ash beneath my fingernails,
I finally realize what I should have known,
That fire fights for itself alone.
Jack Jun 2018
A picture of Paris, that white wedding gown,
We lit one more candle and burned it all down,

Tangled in tightropes, deceived by our scars,
Serving our sentence behind faded bars,

A penchant for poison, a toast to good health,
And the voice that I hear when I talk to myself,

A dance with delusion, still playing our role,
Carving some shape out of that empty hole,

A lonely motel room, a twice-broken heart,
I was who you were back when you fell apart,

The sweet taste of surrender, a casket you built,
A road paved with ashes and blood-colored silt,

Of time and the river, a Manhattan sunset,
I write to remember what she drinks to forget,

Count on cold fingers, whittled down to the bone,
All the noise that I made to not feel so alone.
Jack Dec 2017
Another night spent drowning, downing fuel for apathy,
Trying to forget all the great things we planned to be,
She was listing off my scars, stacking them up like cords of wood,
But it was the loneliness that burned me more than any fire could,
She said that she was homesick, I told her I was sick of home,
Sifting through these ashes of cigarettes and Styrofoam,
So this is where we stand, stranded here amongst the weeds,
Fighting for the place everyone seeks but no one needs,
I was choking on fresh air, collecting wrongs to put things right,
Drinking in despair under some desperate shade of light,
And maybe I took it on the nose, but baby I took it all to heart,
She said “tell me how it ends,” and I said “tell me where to start,”
I’ve been climbing up the walls, so tired of sleeping on the floor,
Still dependent on addictions that don’t need me anymore,
So come on let’s make a change, come on it’s time to move,
We’ve got a thousand dollars and a million prayers to prove,
And I know it’s never easy to see the battle through the war,
They’ll never build us statues, but we’re still worth fighting for,
In time, we may miss the safety of our backs against the wall,
But if we don’t run right now, we might never move at all.
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