there she stands in a skirt and heels
pretty little wallflower

a sheepish grin and a request
he smiles his twisted smile
and winks "no problem"
and they walk and they talk and
hours pass
happy little wallflower

she says excuse me but
he knows her too well already
her quietest struggle revealed
no choice but to trust
silly little wallflower

days pass and they're together
deeper and deeper she falls
one night she panics and he turns away
more days pass without a word
a passive moment, now her life
simply passes by
stupid little wallflower

she sees him with other girls
he doesn't stop to think
and weeks have gone
she's almost moved on
another man approaches
fickle little wallflower

sweet manners, kind gestures, he's
genuine, friendly, she wouldn't mind
giving it a try so she goes to visit
and the first is there
pleading "stay with me"
pitiful little wallflower

her foolishness her downfall
she recedes from each
the wallflower all again
minutes pass and she finds herself alone
with him a curtain's breadth from humanity
heedless little wallflower

he calls to her, she stays reserved
he calls again and she has no hope. she is his
they lie together, she is only content
even knowing it can never last
pathetic little wallflower

every moment put to memory
he walks away without a goodbye
and still she smiles
her pretty little wallflower smile

Why do people
carry umbrellas?
I wonder as I pull the
hood of my sweathsirt
over the messenger cap
that covers my day-old hairstyle.

Rain bounces from
the synthetic-wool weave
on the bill of
that messenger cap
missing my face by a longshot.

So I walk
upright and smiling
to class
in the rain
while people cower under their umbrellas.

Silly people.
Buy a messenger cap.

Just me
and a fifth of ***
which i bought at the grocery store
with the very last of my paycheck
which was the last of my paychecks
three weeks ago.

Just me
and a fifth of ***
sitting in this apartment with the
blank white walls, cracked ceiling,
and giant ****** furniture I hate
with a passion.

Just me
and a fifth of ***.
In anticipation I unscrew the cap,
but I can't bring myself to drink it
so I slowly pour it down the drain,
every last drop.

Just me
and a fifth of ***
or at least the shell of what had been.
Poor bottle, you look so lonely now.
Come, sit next to me, and we can be
empy together.

sometimes you get caught up

you swear you'll be the one that doesn't
                                           but you still do
                    and you don't even realize it
working at your dreams
so hard they're not dreams anymore
they become just what you made them to be
work

and you're trying
                  so hard
                 to reach
      that happiness
which you know is waiting just around the next bend
that you forget about the joys
of the here
and now

the days run together
you plow your own path through the wilderness
not seeing the buds
                                   of possibilities crushed
                                                         ­                   and brushed aside
                                                           ­                 as
                                                                ­    you  
                                                   continue
                                             on
                                   your
                         way
then-

one day you're back on the main path
and you see a familiar sign
pointing
          the
          way
          home
soon you arrive
stepping inside the doors
of a place to which you swore
you'd never return

and you find yourself sinking
into the most comfortable seat
like its been yours every day
the path-weary traveler falls away
and its you
bare
and plain as the day

because right in front of your eyes
you see what it's all about
work forgotten
duties aside
your dream in its truest form
and it seems
                       almost funny
because it's so
           obvious
          limitless
                  real

now-

you can turn around
and                    jump
right   back   into   it
but what was once a blind struggle
is now a level-headed
r  e  a  l  i  z  a  t  i  o  n
dreams are
                   real

i can do this.

my heart is on fire
but my skin is like ice
i cannot stop the trembling
i have to get out of here
a hot shower is perfect
for getting you off my mind
but the water is cold
my whole body protests
surely the freezing stream
will warm up soon
i stand there trembling
trying to forget you
an hour i wait
chilled to the bone
it gets no warmer
i cannot remember anything
except your hands
your lips your neck
my body screams in protest
as i cut the stream of water
and emerge to find
no towel on the rack

the bedslats creak to the beat of
my heart and
with no other heart to beat against
mine, its sound i loathe-- not
that i'm unglad of its existence; for
each beat calls (it silent, yells

seeking its other) to be met to be
shared-- for none seem to hear it
but my tired and distractable ear
only
in its silence ever will i rest

he raised his fist

she hit the ground

running