Voices from the mists of truth and agony at the same time//for we had expectations and destinations we never met//the clouds get the best of us, even in rain the light can be sought//that song you sing your *** off to, when you think nobody listens//when the crowd is at zero, but the energy at unlimited watts//shock the world with your love, and when it gets shot down, load it back up//you die when you quit, losing is living, take a note and rehearse until your fed up//let the led be your blood, and the melody will follow//the beautiful struggle is the conquer, not the riches at the end//it's all a plus, ending in invisible negatives//we feel em, just not too sure when to expect em//
Sing your *** off child, if your off cue, roll with the punches//if those chops turn red, forget the stage fright and recollect about the skies//you can never sing your *** off too many times//

I wanted my life to be a poem.
That's what all of this is.
I date you
Because you fit into poetry
The way dark things do.
And you make me happy
But the truth is
I'd love you if you were only
A sad poem.

Cigarettes capture
My attention
Because they're poetic.
Poets smoke.
A cigarette fits in poems
Like writers pen in palm.

I listen to music
For the lyrics
Which speak to me
In the way I like
To speak.
For the drums
That now only mean you.
For the guitar
In the closet
I take out
On occasion.
For the rhythm
That makes my pen dance
When it would rather sleep.

I have the poem in my head
And I guess I'm writing it.
But you're writing it too.
So is she.
And him.
Mostly me.
But the cigarettes
Write too.
Disappearing through
Your lips--
Ash appearing on the page.

If much of taste is olfactory
And smell my strongest sense
Then I am only remembering the bad taste in my mouth
Whenever I smell your cologne.
Or were those pheromones?
Which someone once told me were a pop science myth
As far as humans are concerned.
But from what I've learned, there's a reason
I remember when your birthday rolls around,
Curse the fact that your phone number's still memorized,
Wonder how we all grew out of our awkwardness but somehow
We never stopped being weird kids who dream about taking over the world without
Wanting anything to do with it,
Convinced somehow we wouldn't know what to do but
Planning every step of development
Developing bad habits to have something to break later
Breaking up frustration with a long handled axe
Asking questions of the ceiling and being ambidextrous
Dexterously clumsy, bursting from cicada skins
Skinning cats and giving catty answers cause we can
Canning ideas, blasting truths, getting reaction shots
Shooting *** and pounding drums and whatever ***** comes along
A long , long way from home.

If there's a method to my madness then my sanity is rhymeless
And sleep gives no more stability than sadness.
Awareness is a legendary goal, but
I'd rather be blind than forgetful, rather
Anxious than regretful, never
Seek salvage from judgment, shelter from justice,
Which someone once told me was a pop culture myth.
And if it's mythology then please, call yourself the hero.
You deserve it after all, you deserve the fall,
To stall till last call, shoot to brawl
It takes all strands of our silk, when you consider it.
Done are the days of self righteous *******,
Gone are the messages you seek,
Long are the nights and low is the sun now
Sunning like lizards in the light from a flare gun
Gunning for a desert road that exists only in memory
Memorizing lines and making them glide smooth like glaciers
Glacial glances but loving deeply every pulse felt or heard
Herding the sheep you count before your childhood sweethearts close their eyes
Eyeing the dreams that glow in a summer sky like faraway missile tests
Testing cold waters, and debunking theological fallacies,
******* fantasies or secrets, slowly losing steam for longing
A long, long way from home.

These are the things we all are, all face,
The neglected children of a single human race.
The things that fuel us differ;
Our bodies always suffer,
They were made to decompose
While our minds keep composing
       No matter what.
We will all become victims of environmental backlash
In large ways, small ways, our lives become ash
Just watch and wait,
We can stop when we want,
We can't stop when we want,
And it's over
         Just like that.
Your children, or my children, will see this world differently,
A place where convenience is king and ****** is free,
Or nearly free, that is --
Human life still has some status,
If only just to count, but not to weigh,
Not to love or kiss goodnight
         Only to give away.