Lightyears in seconds
That's how it goes
Universal life lessons
What do you know?
Lift-offs and landings
You are here, and hear
Crisis' come crashing
Not far nor near

Ten decisions
Plague
You're right
One incision
Late
You're tight
And you're in it
Bait
The sight
To see it
Wait
And                   Sunlight

What is it with you tricks?
I never asked for anything like this
You're mouthing off as soon as I answer the call
Mean everything, when you don't saying nothing at all
So, baby, stab me with your words like knives
Don't hold back, you're voice haunts me like wind-chimes
On a cold, winters night
When the timing's all wrong but the point gets across just right

So baby, oh honey, oh sweetie
Why won't you die?
You come back from the dead
Time and time again
In my head
Back for more death and destruction
Looking for action
Bracing for impact, tonight

Even just talking to you
Was a mistake I now consider
One of the worst thing's I do
Given my mental stability
And my swerving ambitions
Why didn't I see
That we would never work
That we could never be
Thinking back, I guess I knew
But I was a stupid kid
All the chances that I blew
Just so I could die and be with you

The things I've suffered through
Everyone I've looked past and smiled all the way
Now I've got these holes in my shoes
And the shoemakers outta town for good
Running's no longer an option
With my lungs blackened
And my brain up for auction
At the mortuary
By where we
First kissed and realized
We realized that we were meant to die
We realized that we were meant to be denied life

The words fire out of your mouth
Crooked teeth surround a black tongue
Before we've even begun, everything has gone south
You're naïve and too old to justify it with being young
Verbal bombasts, speech like the desert sun
Scorching my Earth and killing all my fun

Put my bliss permanently to death
A ****-eating grin vice-gripping your face
To you what is worse is always what is best
My disillusionment descending in a mist-like haze
Getting harder to breathe in this rapidly shrinking space
The Universe expands but insistently neglects this sad and sorry place

Squandering
Scowering
Squealing
Scattering
About

Reaching
Roarin­g
Rattling
Roaming
Off

Waiting
Wishing
Wondering
Wittling
Away

The clock ticks and ticks
The seconds, minutes, hours pass
The clock looks down from it's perch on the wall
The heart questions its validity
And sighs.

The body grows and prospers
The thought of degenerating, down-grading persists
The body takes itself in and wants to embrace the only moments it has
The brain becomes distracted and lost in its own perception
And sighs.

The Earth, the only planet where love is known to exist
The clock has no jurisdiction over it
The Earth, in all its cosmic glory and all-knowingness
The body, such a sin to let it rot from the inside out,
Sighs.

The clock, the body, the brain, the heart, the Earth
The ticking, the rotting, the thinking, the sighing, the all-knowing
The clock measures the body, and the body, the Earth
The Earth, with no heart or brain of its own, spins unworried
Yet sighs.

She was a peculiar
One
With a pep in
Her step
That no one
Had seen
Before

In a time when photos
Cost thirty-five cents
Her daddy would send her
To pose on rickety steps

With her hair done up
Like someone from the past
With her face punched up
In a way that would last

In the minds of her family
Echoing with a certain grace
Though they called her crazy
She always lit up the place

Not in the normal
Womanly way
But in an anti-formal
Odd sort of play

I can fight
Words
Like they are
Wars

And

I can drop
Jaws
Like they are
On fire

And

I can ****
Hate
Because it is
Alive

And

I can hold back
Tears
Like they are
Death

And

I can fight
Fears
Like they are
Years
Of
Wasted
Time

And...

I can go
With
The flow
For only so
Long

Back when I was about ten or eleven, the only friend I had was the most beautiful girl I knew. Her name was Jessica and her and I did everything together. In school we were inseparable, always chit-chatting before, during and after classes. So much so that teachers bestowed upon us the annoying, yet endearing, encompassing nickname of "Jackica" - a combination of our names; Jack and Jessica. I was so thankful for her companionship, and thinking back it might have been a pretty uneven relationship, emotionally. I was an overweight and awkward Harry Potter fanboy and she was a cute little auburn-haired thing who could've won any Miss America Junior competition in the world, as far as I was concerned. She had the most piercing powder blue eyes. The kind that made my skin tingle and mouth curl up into a stupid smile at any given moment. I felt like she saw me, like she really saw ME. Not the blubbery flesh that coated my muscle and bones but what I was made of, the real me. And I loved her for that. Along with Jessica's physical blessings, she was also given an insatiable appetite for adventure. She loved to go to the park at night, after the gates were locked and when everything was drenched in darkness. We'd hop the five foot chain-link fence and roam around the grounds. We'd go the water at the edge of the park and sit on the rocks, look up at the stars and take turns telling stories to each other with intent to scare the **** out of the other one. One humid night in mid-June, Jessica told a story that succeeded in making my skin-crawl. She always told decent scary stories, she was gifted in the art of fabricating tales of fright right on the spot, but this story really got to my core for some reason. I just felt uneasy as the words spilled from her mouth to my ears and with each sentence my muscles tightened and strained just from the mere tone of her voice as she told the story. She sounded serious, and she rarely did, even when telling these stories, but with this particular one it sounded like she really believed what she was saying was cold, hard truth. What she said was that she heard a story that her older brother's girlfriend had told her. It was about a house on the outskirts of town, placed just a few hundred yards from the mouth of the woods that lined our little suburban utopia. She went on to say that in the house was nothing all that scary. She said it was an old house, a very old house, as it was a log cabin that was built in the 1700s, when the town was first being settled. Supposedly, everything in the house was just as it was back then, little kerosene lamps sitting on home-mad oak tables. The maple-wood floors would moan and creak at the slightest hint of any weight being put on them. And then she said that no one had lived in the house since the man who built it died, around 1785. Needless to say, Jessica wrapped up the story by proclaiming that we had to find the house. And we had to go inside and see for ourselves what was so creepy about it. Being the scared, chubby little wimp that I was, I immediately rejected the idea. There was no way I was going to try to find a place that would only succeed in making me **** my pants in front of a girl, especially the one whom I'd placed the delusional label of "future girlfriend" on. But, as I subconsciously expected, Jessica talked me into it with just a few graceful words: "I'll kiss you if you come with me." The very next Saturday night, Jessica and I put on some dark jeans and t-shirts and took the bus all the way to the last stop, the edge of town. We hopped off and right in front of the stop the woods were already waiting, I took a deep breath as Jessica's eyes lit up. She took my hand and pulled me as she ran, me clumsily waddling along behind her all the way to a little dirt pathway that paved the only marked entrance we could see. She asked me if I was ready and I shrugged, saying something like "I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be." And so we started down the path. As the tall trees swayed in the wind, I dragged my feet with Jessica always about five feet ahead of me, as eager as ever. We walked for probably ten or twenty minutes before the foot of the cabin was before us. At first sight, it was a very old structure. I'd never seen anything like it outside of paintings in my history textbook and this Abe Lincoln documentary I saw on PBS. I never knew houses like that stood the test of time. But there it was before me, two stories high with wooden shutters clad in severely chipped paint and a big oak door that looked stronger than any door I'd ever seen. Jessica took my hand again, smiled enchantingly and rushed me forward. Once at the door, I was speechless. It didn't look as old as the rest of the house and whoever made it obviously meant for it to last a very long time, taking extreme care in carving it out impeccably and sanding it until it shined with a professional touch. Without a word, Jessica rapped on the door. Three hard times, and when no one answered after thirty seconds, she rapped again, and again. She shrugged and turned to me, asked if we should just go in. I said no and she frowned. "There's no way we came this far just to go back home with nothing," and then she wrapped her hand around the rusted doorknob and turned. The door opened with no hesitation as she pushed it all the way in. She stepped inside, and I followed. The first thing I noticed inside the cabin was the creaking floors. They creaked louder and longer with each step, affirming that part of the story, making my blood run cold. We looked around, going from room to room with wide eyes. We were amazed that we made it, that we got inside and now we were actually investigating a place that no one else supposedly had gone before. Truth be told, though, it was nothing special. There wasn't much at all to see, save for a few tables, the creaking floors and some very old paintings on the wall. We were just leaving when we noticed something on a table nearest the big oak door. It was a metal box with a small lock fastened to the front of it. "We have to open it," Jessica proclaimed after a second of curious inspection. "There's no way were going to find the key," I told her. "So we'll break the lock, Jack. Duh," she replied in her sassiest tone. I just shook my head as she grabbed the box and began to furiously slam it in the wooden table. The sound echoed through the house, exacerbating it and making me shiver from head to toe. "I don't know if you should keep-" but my sentence was cut off my the lock flying off the box and clinking onto the floor below. Jessica smiled again, very pleased with herself and looked to me. "Wonder what's inside...," She said, lifting the top half of the box open. After an initial and cough-inducing puff of thick dust subsided, the contents of the box were revealed. It was a letter, written on old-school parchment in heavy ink. In neatly laid Victorian script, the likes of which I had never seen so simultaneously neat and scattered, like it was written in a hurry or during a time of distress, was a love letter. Well, a kind of love letter. It was addressed to a woman named Tania and it was signed by a William. It told the story of how William had loved Tania since they were children, and Tania was now to be married to a Pastor named Hensley. William told Tania how he couldn't bear the thought of her ever being with anyone else and that the fact that she could never truly be his was killing him. Literally. He ended the note by confessing his plan to **** himself. I took a step back, but Jessica just stood at the table with her eyes glued to the crumbling parchment in her hands. "I'm leaving," I said after a few moments, mulling over the sorrow that this poor man must've felt. I headed out the door, Jessica following. The walk back through the woods to the bus stop I couldn't get this feeling of dread from subsiding. It seemed like I felt what William felt, but not in a sympathetic sort of way. It felt like I was William and the pain he felt was actually my pain. And then I noticed that, rolled up tightly in her fist, Jessica had taken the letter with her. "Why'd you take that," I said, sounding thoroughly upset. "That's not yours to take, go bring it back!" "No way. There was no way I was going there and coming back with nothing to show for it," she said, gripping the letter tightly, her knuckles almost whitening. I knew how stubborn Jessica could be and I knew whatever I said probably wouldn't even phase her in the slightest so I did what I did best and just shrugged it off. I found myself wishing I could shrug off the terrible feeling the letter put deep inside me just as easily as I could Jessica's stubbornness. Over time, Jessica and I lost touch, as kids of that age often do. I grew up, lost weight and opened up, making more friends and acquaintances, no longer hanging onto the thought of Jessica being my only love. I didn't talk to Jessica all that much. Just once in a while we'd meet up and have a chat over some coffee or pizza. We had both changed and morphed into young adults with different agendas and dreams and I had no problem with that. But on one such meeting, Jessica began to worry me. She said that every now and then she'd open her desk drawer and take the piece of parchment out and read it. Over and over again. And lately, she had been opening the drawer more and more, she said that she felt drawn to it. Like something about it made her feel this deep-seated dread that no horror movie or scary story had ever made her feel. She said that she felt like the letter was beginning to take a toll on her. And, by the look of her, it didn't seem like she was lying or kidding around like she always used to love to do. She had dark circles underneath her once striking eyes, which were now darker and had taken on an odd and ominous color. I was scared for her. And I told her so but she hugged me and assured me she was alright. I wanted to believe her, and I tried to, hugging her back and telling her I'd talk to her soon. But when she turned her back I knew something was very wrong. I'm writing this now because a few weeks ago Jessica's mom gave me a call. When her number came up on my cell phone, I think I knew, deep down, e actor why I was getting this call but I pushed the thought away and said hello. Jessica's mother called to tell me that a few days before Jessica had gone missing. The only indication to her whereabouts was a note she left with the words "cabin at the edge of town", and below that, instructions on how to get there. Her mother said she took the note and hopped in her car immediately, and made it to the cabin. She said she was breathless by the time she got to the cabin but forged on and barged inside and looked around. She said she found nothing and was about to leave when she noticed a small door behind the big oak door she had swung open to get inside. She opened the little door to find a stairwell. She climbed it, calling Jessica's name all the way, sobbing and wiping tears from her eyes. At the top of the stairs was the attic. And she said she almost died herself when she saw Jessica. She was hanging from a wooden rafter on the ceiling. And next to her was a severely decayed skeleton, dangling from a rope only a few inches away.u

Back when I was about ten or eleven, the only friend I had was the most beautiful girl I knew. Her name was Jessica and her and I did everything together. In school we were inseparable, always chit-chatting before, during and after classes. So much so that teachers bestowed upon us the annoying, yet endearing, encompassing nickname of "Jackica" - a combination of our names; Jack and Jessica.
     I was so thankful for her companionship, and thinking back it might have been a pretty uneven relationship, emotionally. I was an overweight and awkward Harry Potter fanboy and she was a cute little auburn-haired thing who could've won any Miss America Junior competition in the world, as far as I was concerned. She had the most piercing powder blue eyes. The kind that made my skin tingle and mouth curl up into a stupid smile at any given moment. I felt like she saw me, like she really saw ME. Not the blubbery flesh that coated my muscle and bones but what I was made of, the real me. And I loved her for that.
     Along with Jessica's physical blessings, she was also given an insatiable appetite for adventure. She loved to go to the park at night,  after the gates were locked and when everything was drenched in darkness. We'd hop the five foot chain-link fence and roam around the grounds. We'd go the water at the edge of the park and sit on the rocks, look up at the stars and take turns telling stories to each other with intent to scare the **** out of the other one.
     One humid night in mid-June, Jessica told a story that succeeded in making my skin-crawl. She always told decent scary stories, she was gifted in the art of fabricating tales of fright right on the spot, but this story really got to my core for some reason. I just felt uneasy as the words spilled from her mouth to my ears and with each sentence my muscles tightened and strained just from the mere tone of her voice as she told the story. She sounded serious, and she rarely did, even when telling these stories, but with this particular one it sounded like she really believed what she was saying was cold, hard truth.
     What she said was that she heard a story that her older brother's girlfriend had told her. It was about a house on the outskirts of town, placed just a few hundred yards from the mouth of the woods that lined our little suburban utopia. She went on to say that in the house was nothing all that scary. She said it was an old house, a very old house, as it was a log cabin that was built in the 1700s, when the town was first being settled. Supposedly, everything in the house was just as it was back then, little kerosene lamps sitting on home-mad oak tables. The maple-wood floors would moan and creak at the slightest hint of any weight being put on them. And then she said that no one had lived in the house since the man who built it died, around 1785.
     Needless to say, Jessica wrapped up the story by proclaiming that we had to find the house. And we had to go inside and see for ourselves what was so creepy about it. Being the scared, chubby little wimp that I was, I immediately rejected the idea. There was no way I was going to try to find a place that would only succeed in making me **** my pants in front of a girl, especially the one whom I'd placed the delusional label of "future girlfriend" on.  But, as I subconsciously expected, Jessica talked me into it with just a few graceful words: "I'll kiss you if you come with me."
    
     The very next Saturday night, Jessica and I put on some dark jeans and t-shirts and took the bus all the way to the last stop, the edge of town. We hopped off and right in front of the stop the woods were already waiting, I took a deep breath as Jessica's eyes lit up. She took my hand and pulled me as she ran, me clumsily waddling along behind her all the way to a little dirt pathway that paved the only marked entrance we could see. She asked me if I was ready and I shrugged, saying something like "I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be." And so we started down the path. As the tall trees swayed in the wind, I dragged my feet with  Jessica always about five feet ahead of me, as eager as ever. We walked for probably ten or twenty minutes before the foot of the cabin was before us.
     At first sight, it was a very old structure. I'd never seen anything like it outside of paintings in my history textbook and this Abe Lincoln documentary I saw on PBS. I never knew houses like that stood the test of time. But there it was before me, two stories high with wooden shutters clad in severely chipped paint and a big oak door that looked stronger than any door I'd ever seen. Jessica took my hand again, smiled enchantingly and rushed me forward.
     Once at the door, I was speechless. It didn't look as old as the rest of the house and whoever made it obviously meant for it to last a very long time, taking extreme care in carving it out impeccably and sanding it until it shined with a professional touch. Without a word, Jessica rapped on the door. Three hard times, and when no one answered after thirty seconds, she rapped again, and again. She shrugged and turned to me, asked if we should just go in. I said no and she frowned.
     "There's no way we came this far just to go back home with nothing," and then she wrapped her hand around the rusted doorknob and turned.
     The door opened with no hesitation as she pushed it all the way in. She stepped inside, and I followed. The first thing I noticed inside the cabin was the creaking floors. They creaked louder and longer with each step, affirming that part of the story, making my blood run cold. We looked around, going from room to room with wide eyes. We were amazed that we made it, that we got inside and now we were actually investigating a place that no one else supposedly had gone before. Truth be told, though, it was nothing special. There wasn't much at all to see, save for a few tables, the creaking floors and some very old paintings on the wall. We were just leaving when we noticed something on a table nearest the big oak door. It was a metal box with a small lock fastened to the front of it.
     "We have to open it," Jessica proclaimed after a second of curious inspection.
     "There's no way were going to find the key," I told her.
     "So we'll break the lock, Jack. Duh," she replied in her sassiest tone.
     I just shook my head as she grabbed the box and began to furiously slam it in the wooden table. The sound echoed through the house, exacerbating it and making me shiver from head to toe.
     "I don't know if you should keep-" but my sentence was cut off my the lock flying off the box and clinking onto the floor below.
Jessica smiled again, very pleased with herself and looked to me.
     "Wonder what's inside...," She said, lifting the top half of the box open.
     After an initial and cough-inducing puff of thick dust subsided, the contents of the box were revealed. It was a letter, written on old-school parchment in heavy ink. In neatly laid Victorian script, the likes of which I had never seen so simultaneously neat and scattered, like it was written in a hurry or during a time of distress, was a love letter. Well, a kind of love letter. It was addressed to a woman named Tania and it was signed by a William. It told the story of how William had loved Tania since they were children, and Tania was now to be married to a Pastor named Hensley. William told Tania how he couldn't bear the thought of her ever being with anyone else and that the fact that she could never truly be his was killing him. Literally. He ended the note by confessing his plan to **** himself.
     I took a step back, but Jessica just stood at the table with her eyes glued to the crumbling parchment in her hands.
     "I'm leaving," I said after a few moments, mulling over the sorrow that this poor man must've felt. I headed out the door, Jessica following. The walk back through the woods to the bus stop I couldn't get this feeling of dread from subsiding. It seemed like I felt what William felt, but not in a sympathetic sort of way. It felt like I was William and the pain he felt was actually my pain. And then I noticed that, rolled up tightly in her fist, Jessica had taken the letter with her.
     "Why'd you take that," I said, sounding thoroughly upset. "That's not yours to take, go bring it back!"
     "No way. There was no way I was going there and coming back with nothing to show for it," she said, gripping the letter tightly, her knuckles almost whitening.
     I knew how stubborn Jessica could be and I knew whatever I said probably wouldn't even phase her in the slightest so I did what I did best and just shrugged it off. I found myself wishing I could shrug off the terrible feeling the letter put deep inside me just as easily as I could Jessica's stubbornness.

     Over time, Jessica and I lost touch, as kids of that age often do. I grew up, lost weight and opened up, making more friends and acquaintances, no longer hanging onto the thought of Jessica being my only love. I didn't talk to Jessica all that much. Just once in a while we'd meet up and have a chat over some coffee or pizza. We had both changed and morphed into young adults with different agendas and dreams and I had no problem with that. But on one such meeting, Jessica began to worry me. She said that every now and then she'd open her desk drawer and take the piece of parchment out and read it. Over and over again. And lately, she had been opening the drawer more and more, she said that she felt drawn to it. Like something about it made her feel this deep-seated dread that no horror movie or scary story had ever made her feel. She said that she felt like the letter was beginning to take a toll on her. And, by the look of her, it didn't seem like she was lying or kidding around like she always used to love to do. She had dark circles underneath her once striking eyes, which were now darker and had taken on an odd and ominous color. I was scared for her. And I told her so but she hugged me and assured me she was alright. I wanted to believe her, and I tried to, hugging her back and telling her I'd talk to her soon. But when she turned her back I knew something was very wrong.

     I'm writing this now because a few weeks ago Jessica's mom gave me a call. When her number came up on my cell phone, I think I knew, deep down, e actor why I was getting this call but I pushed the thought away and said hello. Jessica's mother called to tell me that a few days before Jessica had gone missing. The only indication to her whereabouts was a note she left with the words "cabin at the edge of town", and below that, instructions on how to get there. Her mother said she took the note and hopped in her car immediately, and made it to the cabin. She said she was breathless by the time she got to the cabin but forged on and barged inside and looked around. She said she found nothing and was about to leave when she noticed a small door behind the big oak door she had swung open to get inside. She opened the little door to find a stairwell. She climbed it, calling Jessica's name all the way, sobbing and wiping tears from her eyes. At the top of the stairs was the attic. And she said she almost died herself when she saw Jessica. She was hanging from a wooden rafter on the ceiling. And next to her was a severely decayed skeleton, dangling from a rope only a few inches away.

The barren wasteland
Of my warped mind
Held by a rubberband
Made of space and time
Nothign gets in, nothing gets out
Alive

i was comin' 'round the bend
and i tripped and fell
on my face and then
i raised nothin' but hell.

i've got this affectation
that never goes away.
i need a ******' vacation
all i want is some play.

Write what you feel
What is it that's gotten to your heart?

A pen to fight the infection
A brave face is needed for this part

A motionless stillness permeates
When everything is in shambles


Feel through the black mud
Sifting through guts to find a balance

A facade of smiles and laughs
Always kills your negative

Rationalize, even your tide, hibernate
And the wind will blow cool when the sun's long gone and you're still wide awake

Once in a while
A flower blooms
Sprouts, shouts
In a dismal, dark room

And it makes
Me wonder
What if (just what if?)
It's birth hadn't been such a blunder

How would things be different?
How would that flower's life
Have been altered?
Relegated to obscurity from the first click of the knife

Was that flower given
That situation
Because it was able to handle it?
Was it meant to be a sensation?

And then I think
What if it was just random
As trivial as a grain of sand
In the midst of the worldwide kingdom?

Trivial, random
Sensational, remarkable
I'm just don't know
Which way I'm meant to turn the table

Things
Change
And
Moods
Slide
And
Shift

When you're
Up
And when you're
Down
Things
Just
Don't
Stop
Changing

The nature of
You
And the ways of
I
The morals
Of
They
And the code
Of
Them
Collide
And when they do
Things
Change

Turn it
Off
Just make it
Stop
Take the time out to
Halt
The madness
The
Frenzy
And
Be
Still
Stay
Detached
And
Subjective
And
­Everything
Will be
Fine

For when the moment
Strikes
And the emotions
Rush in
Everything returns
Comes back
To claim it's
Rightful place
Again

With tears
And sorrow
A house
Becomes
A funeral home

A house is where you go when you have nowhere else
A home is where your heart is fastened
The people in the house are the ones who thought you were different
The ones in your home know exactly why you did what you did

When your house is burned down, the sparks touch your skin
Should your home burn, your heart chars with it
If the people you know die, you cry for a day or two
If your people leave town, you can't shake the feeling until they return

Her daddy had eyes
Gleaming, red bullets
Only for her, only for her
He said, "Baby, I love you"
She nodded and smiled
But it took her a while

Her daddy came home one night
Eyes bloodshot and fingers trembling
He said, "I got into a fight"
And that he needed relieving
She looked at him softly
Her heart running a marathon
He looked at her hardly
And touched her gently

This was her life
She knew she had to go
Or he had to leave
Everything moving in slow-mo
She packed her things
Toothbrush and old clothes
She opened the door
He hit her and asked if she wanted more

She said, "No, no"
And he just smirked
She asked "Why?"
He held his head high
And said, with a sigh
"I ain't been right since your momma died."

His mother was a nice
Girl
Her father used to hit her
A lot
Leaving bruises
Bumps and
Scars
Called her names
Like ****
*****
*****
And would hit her
Again
And Again
He would always say
Sorry
But then
He would
Keep hitting
Her

His father was a good
Boy
He played sports well
All of them
Basketball
Football
Baseball
Soccer
But he never really got his chance
To shine
Because he got hurt
And was put up in the hospital
Because he was
Bleeding
From the inside
And then his father's
Father
Went to jail
He was in and out
All the time
But when he was 17
He went to jail
And never came back out
Until
He died

The boy was very sensitive
Sensitive to people's
Feelings
And emotions
His mother would scream at him
For nothing in particular
And the boy would
Cry
In his room
Alone
And wish it would all go away
But when he got a little bit
Older
As time passed and people
Came and went
His parents were always
Fighting
Always
Never a dull moment
Always
Obscenities
Deafening words
More crying
More
Emotions
Flooding the gates
Of his
Eyelids

Cut your hair.
Lose some weight.
Take off that hat.
Don't even think about those earrings.
Why would you want a tattoo?
Go to school.
Meet a nice boy/girl.
Don't walk so close to the edge.
Never walk in the street.
Always put on your seatbelt.
Just don't think about it.
Stop whining.
Why are you always chewing with your mouth open?
Go to your room.
Don't do what I do, do what I say.
Listen to me.

it was 5am and i detected distress
from your heart you emitted nothing less
you fell to the floor and looked into my eyes
i started to cry as you said your goodbyes
you told me to batten down my hatches & **** it up
but what you said left me with scratches & had me all ****** up

Infidelity, ******
Abuse, torture
All's fair
In
Fear
And
Ignorance

I'll stand by you
Through hell storm
And through Heaven's Gates
Let you know
I love you
And hold you close
As long you allow me
And let me rest easy
Knowing my heart has a safe place

A few words
From your mouth
to my ears
Makes it true
All things must pass

And when the time
Comes around the corner
My mind defrosts
And I know
You know I'm right

The melancholy
And the sad
And the lonely
Never make me mad
I just wait for the time

Wait for when
The time is right
When the clock ticks
Through the night
It isn't that hard

You're just very impatient
When I feel your anxiety
I get nervous too
But I just say to myself
All things must
And do
Pass

Why do you feel this way?
Who did this to you?
Since when have you hated everything?
You're too young to hate the world
You're 21 and you think you know it all
Letting bad days seep into the night
And bad nights always ruin the next day
Not always
But almost always

I am running
Brushing bushels of roses and daisies and sunflowers
Treading ground tread to the degree of infinity by lives lived before me
Through the green fields and under the arms of wise, old trees
And I stop under one of them

I settle down and take a seat
Quick breaths become slow and purposeful
Taking in the life around me and breathing out, feeding it
The orange, red, purple sky above looks down on everything, on me
My breath fuses with the waves of a life continously complimenting all that I see

With each strike of a key
As silly as it seems
Your eyes have been used to see
Exclusively
For too long

From each sunset to day break
My soul, my body seems to ache
Please, here is my whole being to take
Offered up as my hands and knees shake
It seems there are no suitable takers

Through the thick of the night
The fog over the river's so bright
With moon shining high exuding white light
In times like these we used to hold eachother so tight
But now we're nothing but my memory's dream

Now I am stuck and getting lost in the woods
Seems like it happens more often than it should
Like all the times I said I could
And every time I said I would
Without a second thought

But now I think twice

"I hate flowers," she said, her mouth curling toward the ground.
What kind of a woman hates flowers?
"I love nature. I'm in love with nature. But the thought of a flower as a token of affection makes me sad."
"Oh," slipped out of my mouth, barely audible. "Well what would make you happy then?"
After a moments pause with her eyes on my shoes, she looked up and directly into my pupils she said: "A minute."
After another pause, she opened her mouth again; "Just a minute."
And so I squatted down right there in the hill, the carpet of never ending grass beneath us swaying lazily in rhythm with the invisible wind. I sat. She bent down and followed my lead.
And I gave her a minute. Many minutes that managed to blend into each other without my notice and before I knew it, it was dusk. The Sun peered out over the vast horizon, letting us both know that the time we had spent sitting silently had lapsed and appeared to us as no time time at all. It was just the grass, the sky, the wind, the Sun and us.

everything is cloudy
on a sunny day
the sky parts and smiles
but i only look down
seems i'm stuck
just like before
you'd think i'd know
how to bust down this door
by now

but no

oh no
it's never that easy
see, every valley is different
similar but not the same
you slide down
with no effort at all
but climbing back up
with no guarantee, you fall
and your body slaps the pavement
just like that
blood splatter and broken teeth
messy and brutal
look mom, i'm a modern art masterpiece

Things don't seem so dark no more
The light's been slowly making it's way
Into my heart, into my soul
I can't help but think that I've paid my way
Learning and loving, giving and taking
I've still got a lot to learn
But I'm no longer shaking

I noticed when my hands stopped trembling
Things were looking up... and the sky was blue
Things come together
And I know it's true
The proof is before my eyes
The proof is in your heart
The truth is in the skies
The truth stays the same... when lies fall apart

Things don't
Seem so hard anymore
I've got
A way out, now, and more
When she comes
Strutting down the street
I know
Past problems have been beat
When she says
When can we meet?
Squirming in my seat
Tripping over my own two feet

Everything is hit or miss
And they say
That everything's worth a try
And they say
Someone out there is worth you to die
And they say
Just keep carrying on by
Never let slip past your guard, a lie
Just fasten up your ties
Don't you dare be shy now

Just walking
Sidewalk cracks passing
Thoughts of you are fleeting
Time I've spent just keeps on leaving
Nothing I do is helping
Guess I just have to start accepting
What they say may be true
But thinking of you
Don't do nothing but turn me blue

Oh, Anxiety
You **** me
Over and over
With no warning
You show up
With open arms
I've got no luck
I see you every day
Wouldn't mind at all
To simply walk and talk
Without misstep or fall
And forgetting all about you

Anxiety, Anxiety
Where from do you come?
Why can't we
Ever seem a little smarter than dumb?
Killing my core and my head
Dropping my body as it turns to lead

Creeping anxiety
takes a hold of me.
Drips through the cracks,
then off my broken back
like the rain off the roof
(with more than a few screws loose).

Walking slowly...
if only, if only
I could get this square
peg in that round hole where
I used to run and play as a kid
(before I hit the skids).

Nothing seems so funny
When you have no money
And you can't give and
Therefore warrant no reception
Of anything
Gift or gaze or gallivanting
About

So you have to spend
Time
Since you've no dime
Or dollar
Slaving and selling
Your soul and trying so hard
To see through the ******
And mustard gas that makes itself
Evident once you realize where that your job
Is good for absolutely nothing other than
That feeling of being able to give
And, thus, to receive

Anything at all

19
***
Slurpees
Good music
Stunted moral judgment
Good friends, good times, good fun

I awoke to screaming

Only it wasn't my own
This time, it appeared
Someone had invaded my home
I got up quickly

I reached for my bat
But knew that if anything would help
It probably wouldn't have been that
But still, quietly I crept down the stairwell

In the kitchen stood a man
Or what appeared to be
He gazed at me and raised his hand
One finger to his lips, "Shhh"

So I raised my eyebrows and opened my mouth
To speak but he shushed me louder
This time and lowered himself into a crouch
And that's when I saw what he had done

Below his massive, crouched down frame
Was a shattered bottle of milk
He stared at it solemnly, knowing he was to blame
Then he looked back up at me

"Please don't tell my mother."
A single tear rolled down his big face
"She loves me like no other."
The tears were streaming now

I didn't know what to say
Here was a hulking man, in my kitchen
I suddenly felt I could no longer stay
If I go back up stairs will he leave? Or **** me in my sleep?

I backed up a little and said
"If you just go now,
I'll just be getting back to bed."
He smiled, his tears glinting off moonlight

"Thank you! But please! Turn around."
And for some reason I did
When I turned back, he was nowhere to be found
The milk was cleaned too, glass and all

I scratched my head in disbelief
I was still groggy from sleep
Anyone ever heard of a break, weep and clean?
I'd think not
I'd like to think not

I promise
To do no harm to you
To never stray between the lines
Even when my light goes from white to blue
My foggy mirror will always show the truth

With that, I think
Through appreciation or disdain
What my brain tells my body to do
Should never cause any pain
Because what I commit myself to
Will no doubt take me for a fool

I promise
To do no harm to you
To never stray between the lines
Even when my light goes from white to blue
My foggy mirror will always show the truth

With that, I think
Through appreciation or disdain
What my brain tells my body to do
Should never cause any pain
Because what I commit myself to
Will no doubt take me for a fool

After all this time
All this thinking
My head pounding
Throbbing as my heart's sinking
In the crimson seas
Of yours and my inbetween

Are you mine?
Am I yours?
Did I pass the sign?
Or did I arrive too early?
Am I yours?
Are you mine?
Because I can't shake the feeling that I'm running out of time

All the times the clocks ticked
Thoughts of you lift my consciousness
You're some other-worldly being
You're the target I forbid myself to miss
I don't think I'll ever forgive myself
If I somehow manage to **** this up

Tell me you're seeing the changes
Watching as the Sun goes  down and the moon rises
Do you think you can handle it?
Can you see my hands waving as time flies?
As it all goes by I'm beginning to see clearly
Like the haze has been dusted and the things I've been fearing
Disappear before my eyes

You don't seem to understand
The line between love and hate
Side stepping the obstacles laid before us
But cowardice is something I've never been able to tolerate
So I'm asking you now
Are you ready for the storm?
Are you prepared to confront the evil turned blessings as they form?

A bunch of people
****** up people
Like, the in-the-head
Kind of ****** up

Anyway, they're just standing there
Looking at each other
And at the ground
Left, right, up and down

Then the music starts
And starts to blare
Louder and louder
"It's a sin."

The crowd begins to sway
Not gradually though
They just slam into life
Arms swinging and legs kicking

The zombies have become animate
The loonies suddenly decide, simultaneously, to let their individual freak flags fly
And you're in the middle of it
Physically stunted and slowed but mentally... all there

You lift your right leg
Place it in front of your left
The loonies/freaks/zombies continue their ritualistic, devilish, mindless movements
And there you are, too slow to even make it out of that jungle, brimming with madness

Finally, after 10 minutes or so
You make it to a chair, located on the edge of the makeshift dancefloor
You sit down, the metal like a brutal breeze to your warm behind
You sit down, and you look up at the ceiling
The music still flairs and the singer wails the same words
"It's a sin"
A lonely tear rolls down your cheek
And you know it's true

The heart is
Deceitful
Indecisive
Ambivalent
And, frankly
Childish

It's whimsy is
Unparalleled
And it's style is
Overdone
It's either lost
It's mind
Or never had one to begin with

It operates on a level
That is not physical
Not mental
But a completely different
Plane
And it's odd
For lack of a better word

The heart is ominous
It is ambiguous
Perhaps even indifferent
Not caring for the fate of it's
Keeper
Simply chugging
Slumping
Thumping
Along for the sake of it's own being

In and out
Oxygen/c02
Up and down
My beaten chest
Through and through
Heart still beats

Triumphant or defeated
Eyes still weep
In thoughts and dreams
Still unsure of the difference
In rain or in Sunshine
Head always held high

In talks or in whines
Points still foggy
Pulling up/down blinds
Body always groggy
In and out
And up and in
You can't ever always win

Sometimes I ask myself
How do you keep going?
And I just smile back and say
This is my life and I can not stop.

I'm going to
Keep this
Short, sweet

Who are you?

Scratch out the time and throw away your watch
Etch off the very conception of how things come and go
For this is the way it is now and this is eternal
This will be forever, our desires being perpetual and infernal
Everyone elses little heads, little existence as important as a popcorn kernal

I promise you this, yes and I promise you that
The truth is that I don't know what the truth is
I can't tell you how things will be tomorrow or the next day
I can't say anything important until I know you're feelings are no longer at bay
The only thing I can do is say that you will know the truth and so will I if we both decide to stay

So just stay here, locked in my cold arms
For the winter is back and it shows no mercy
The nights are frozen and, at times, grim but the snow is beautiful
We might be closest when we are horizontal but the aim is always vertical
Up in the air and the sky and along with the wind

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a thought is thunk
while you
passively
go about
your work.

the thought dies
without a cry,
and so
mourning it
does not seem
necessary.

later on though,
when business
dies down,
it is revived.

like jesus christ
it comes back
to life.

resuscitated.
renewed.
you reign
it in.
you hold on
tight
this time.
grasping desperately
to the frail frame
and open your mouth.

but
nothing comes out.

"We'll meet again. In another time. Another place."*

Her hair blew gently as the wind picked up just slightly. The setting Sun peaked out shyly through each and every strand of hair. She tilted her head to the ground. An inkling of a smile turned up on the right dude of her lips. A sort of butchering of Mona Lisa's own. It was an even sadder version of that look. One that told me *"I don't know exactly why, but we have to be apart."

If you want to live
Then you have to die
And if you want to smile
Then you have to cry
Just listen to the ground
And kiss the roots of trees
For your head used to pound
Until you allowed yourself to see