cries carry their echoes like scared children
into the deepest pockets of the abyss
waiting for merciless thunder to stop
bombing the earth

where the soil of kinetic frustration
realizes the roots were of pure harmony
a tenderly crafted perfection - brought to life
in an air of laughter
found in back door summers
and ice cold beers

a constructed fantasy - populated
by playful youth on their thrones of rebellion
raising the fire from its safe place
to burst the night sky into crackling bliss
free from chains of pressured change
promising a potential future
stripped of good times
leaving naked anxiety

scars to color perspective
uncertain if this sky is blue or black

I

the alarm clock refuses to set itself
it tells me this at 4:05 in the morning


II

I’ve started combing my hair
trying to maintain some sense of maturity
after I shaved my beard I
was reminded of my boyish look


III

the mirror decides to show
the reverse of a reflection
it shows me everything I’m not


IV

I have a dream where you’re the star
and I’m the narrator
we exist in the same world
but never interact


V

I look at my college degree like it’s an old photograph
from a time period I never lived in
I’m still seeking employment


VI

I turn 25 and unwrap gifts
looking for plans and hopes
and whether or not they’re relevant


VII

sometimes I wonder what you’re doing
who you’re with and how
much happiness you have


VIII

I disappoint myself
rejecting expectation
and ignoring opportunity
shaped in the consistency of
social resonance
populated by unpredicatable girls
who may charm you away
or ***** the scabs you’re dreading to discover


IX

abandoned ditches come with welcome signs
and I can’t help but feel a little afraid
that my vision is cut in half


X

two halves of a poem
form together
feel the uneven edges out
and agree on acceptance


XI

hands unfold
and position themselves for
placement
for some tangible thing
to appear

lingering smoke from the last breath of conversation
clouds the final goodbye in the throes of departure
kissing the dark tears from a pregnant sky
drowning the serenity in an unholy baptism

it’s the last laugh, and the last regret
interrupting the youthful energy
of simple children who
throw their arms in apathy
unaware of tomorrow’s pathetic smile

there’s secrets hidden deep in the dark
in some heaven you locked yourself in
where every mirror is masking emotion
detached from steadfast friendship

it can’t be communicated with vocabulary
or confirmed with silent resolution
it simply slips away like an old calender
pages never meant to be seen again