Sweet little one, so young and willing
Fill my rusty nail with another round
Cause I am comfortably numb on my way to Southtown
And I am making a killing on these college towns

The refuge that I find these days
Is bad habits and darker skin
But I've grown too inflexible to come back in
And far too old to change my ways

Play another round of Don and Glenn
Close it out with the man in black
Snap the guitar case, I'm headed back
To where I ain't been in in I don't know when

The White City, she ain't what she used to be
And the wind today is dark and cold
My heart is young, but my eyes are old
Grown old from things unsaid and unseen

Hotel bar and hockey on TV Sweet
little blue-eyed wonder
One more draw, and you'll pull me under
For tonight at least, we'll both feel free

I'm comin' to a place
where I don't know If I'll turn left or head right
Because there's not a soul in sight
And I can't figure out which way to go

So I'll take a drag and take a breath
And drive west through the night and snow
It will be warmer in the West, I know
Cause this town just feels like death

Nineteen hours, drove straight through
The desert is dark and cold as hell
The darkness came along, as well
I light a cigarette and think of you

All alone in a crowd
Too tired to sleep,
too hungry to eat
Silence when I'm speaking out loud

.
.
  .
    .
      .
     ,
       .
         .
        ,
          .
         .
                     .


         '            
            
                                    .  




                 ,









                                                      ­     .
                                                            '
 ­                                                             ,

If you see my glass
Please return it.
I lost it last night,
Like I lost my mind.

You text me
When you're drunk
At the bar
Looking for a ride home.

And I reply
Because you're drunk
And texting me
And I know what that means.

So I get on my shoes
And get in my car
And pick you up
Because you're drunk.

I take you to your late-night fast food
And back to your house
And I go inside
Because you're drunk.

I like you
When you're drunk

You smile
And laugh
And kiss me
When you're drunk.

You pull my hair
And hold me close
And love me
When you're drunk.

I get to stay the night
And hear you talk about the future
And I'm happy
When you're drunk.

I love you
But I have a hard time
Liking you
Except when you're drunk.

And maybe it will **** me
Spending my life
Waiting for a man
Who's only around at night

But I can't leave
Because somewhere inside of you
Is a man that I love
Except that he's drunk.

I find hope
when there is none
But love is a fine wine

I sleep when I'm tired
I fight when I'm drunk

I'm always tired
I'm always drunk

I lay my head down
on your shoulder
If my head is light
I am drunk

I see your headlights
over my shoulder
My head is not right
I am drunk

The reason why,
he will never forget,
and
I will never remember,
our first kiss.

Velcro-like hands
Grip and pull
At every thread of his textile presence
As a spider clings
to her
silky haven in the rain

With every tear
she grows less stable
And every shudder
draws hopes of Heaven
Past this haven, in the tree branch, that she built her life upon

And the web; it softly whispers
It is trapped in finite murmur
Once high hopes of hereafter, embroider fears that she “was once”

In the rain,
she is suspended
Thoughts thieved away by daydream
Her mind drifts back to sunny lives
And her Velcro-like grasp
Loosens
Just a little.

We live in Glass Boxes.
Made up of love, joy, and
happiness, anger, pain,
and hate. We knock on windex'd
walls, shouting for
someone to break our
boundaries.

No one's box is made
the same. Everyone's glass
cracks different ways. The
sun sends patterns across our
skin, staining us with
experiences that build who
we will become.

I press my nose to the glass,
fogging my walls with
the haze of heavy breathing.
My eyes squint for you,
searching desperately for your
Glass home...but no matter
how hard I try, you're
always just out of sight.

I hear on the wind that your
glass is changing. Chipping
away to the pressures of
******. It's all I can do not
to claw my walls. I know these
bleeding nails would be
my only triumph.

So I sit in my Glass Box, bitter
at the rays of color that
turn my home into a rainbow
prism. The paradox of it all
enough to make my head pound.
Is it even fair to be happy?
When you're off, all alone,
drowning in you're own pain?

letter addressed
to the girl
too rush hour
to take the scenic route

dear fast line,
i know you didn't
choose this.
i know how hypnotizing
those yellow lines
can be but
if you keep
chasing that pavement
you'll run out of fuel
and i can't promise
your parents will
find someone like you
again.

and they'll wonder
what set your eyes
on the highway
when you come
from such a
michigan avenue father
and middle lane mother.
may i ask you
how your gps
forgot your home address?

i guess it happened
with time.
one less trip turned
to two a year.
your mothers tears
turned to sighs.

she kissed me twice
for you.
one for your forehead
another for you Ford.
may it keep you
when you go
where her God can't.

since her knees
are too soft for kneeling
she nodded toward the ceiling.
flashing God
her grin lines and gray hairs
like see, i bare stripes
just like your son.
yes i sin and i saint
but this ain't about me.
i need you to keep
my daughters.

too many fathered
ain't got fathers.
too many men
haven't figured out
the price of absence
is far more than
a gallon of gas
a six pack of beer
and a bachelor pad.

too many children
grew up with the half
the guidance.
only knowing
to trust Magellan
and Garmin
with a backseat God
who only gets to drive
when the light ain't green.

there are too many women
caught between
crash driven children
and the cross walk.

to the girl
who hasn't flashed
her break lights for miles

choose your exit wisely.

don't wait
til the last second
to switch lanes.
the end game
is much closer
than it appears
in your side mirrors.