I said I’d never write about you again,
but I suppose I’m just as good at lying
as I am at leaving.
I’ve forgotten what your voice sounds like.
I always criticized you for not letting go,
as if the weights around my ankles
weren’t made of my faults
and everything I wish I could take back.
You told me today that
you’ve found love again.
I hope he finds flowers growing
from all the cracks I created
in your heart.
I hope he sees galaxies
in the darkened voids
I left behind your eyes.
I hope he understands
that you are full of splintered doors
on rusted hinges
that need to be loved and not repaired.
I hope he is nothing like me.
I’m sorry my words left scars.
I’m sorry my silence
reopened them constantly.
I’m sorry I was too busy
loving myself,
instead of loving you.

Paint over my eyes so I might see brighter days
Put some blue over the view that was grey
Tell me this world is not a cruel as it seems
Paint over my eyes and paint me a dream

Erase all the nightmares, melt away the snow
Break me from the winter and show how to grow
Leave me with a better view of my day to day
Paint over my eyes and take me far away

Do not fade into the anonymity of everyday life
Find the avenue in which your voice echoes
Cling to the thresholds of any success
And never let go

There was a long road
from the church to the farm house
and ten acres of land was never enough to disappear
but we tried our very best
the fields spanned out in wooden fence borders
until they met with dirt side roads
sheep, cows, and horses
and mud tracked jeans
we built dens in the woods
out of whatever we could scavenge
with wheat hanging limp from lips
we graduated to the days of the pretender
and started memorizing names like
RJ Reynolds and Phillip Morris
our fingers grew as yellow as our teeth
Tobacco Road Hobos
sticking up a thumb
with a Kamel Red pinched between index and middle
that's the gun metal blue smoke screen
rattling lungs in the morning
scorched throats at night
and a pair of mud tracked jeans
Kings of Tobacco Road

Circling at speeds too fast to blur
the edges are edged out of peripherals
tick tock spoke the clock
as laughter erupts from the hungry bellies
of a million explosions waiting to happen
breathing out fumes of cough syrup
saying things like
I am so ****** up right now
wading through the *** of honey
to rescue the husks of dead flies
fists firmly grasping nothing but air
the message in the bottle is blank
close your eyes and open your ears
the fire is about to die
like us it too craves oxygen
which is ****** out of your lungs
with each couch depressing sigh
summer fades into snowy winter
in the blink of an eye
and the clock still sits on the wall in judgement
tick tock
tick tock

Today I made it five hours
unless you count the six cups of coffee
and the cigarettes
I don’t
it’s convenient that way
I don’t know what it is
It is the one thing I can’t find the words for
probably because I am afraid of the implications
those words will surely bring
when I was a young *******
I knew way more than I do now
and I was never unhappy
but I grew up -
admittedly slower than my peers -
and bit by bit the wallpaper was stripped away
until all that was left were pipes and studs
a haunting skeleton creaking in the night
so I slipped more and more as I got older
because I wanted to go faster
wanted it all right away
and I was foolish
because all it got me was a handful of good words
and me sitting in this chair
lamenting the fact that I only made it five hours today
but tomorrow is tomorrow
and just maybe
I won’t be this me

It’s a contradiction
you want to be free from it so badly
yet your body and brain screams for more
crossed live wires shooting sparks of tragedy
“Taken from us too soon”
that’s something selfish ******* say
ever been exhausted and not been able to sleep?
tag you’re it
and we don’t play that home base safety *******
soak through your sheets
so you can’t cry in public
you know -
a laugh isn’t always a laugh,
and it sometimes tastes like dirt
but they demand a clown to brighten their day
so cheers to the good life

Will I still be fun
Will my friends still hang out with me
Will they understand
Will they judge
????

People like to talk about wasted potential
as if they know a single ******* thing
I have potential
you have potential
****** had potential
we all have potential
it doesn’t mean a thing
see what we need is an inroad
or maybe just a clear exit
and sometimes Cupid isn’t such a hot shot

Will I wake up one day riddled with regret
Will I make it to forty
Will I ever be able to dismount
Will the light ever find me
????

I’m losing my mind
and I think I’m fine with that
set me free of these silly things
make me a cherub gracefully ascending
take me to Valhalla
take me to green lawns swaying in the gentle summer breeze
take me by the hand and sit me down
don’t tell me it’s all going to be okay
tell me that we shouldn’t take villains for granted
Villains are the leading cause of heroism
so I’m hitting liquid courage like she cheated on me
only to miss the point entirely
A cobra’s venom is useless if it’s caught in a trance
we dance to death and the nights never end
we flash neon smiles and slaughter the mirrored image
so go ahead and convince yourself you feel good
keep on telling yourself your genius is misunderstood
there are no geniuses
just people smart enough to realize how little they really know
and I know nothing about everything
so pay me the big bucks
so I can shoot them from my mouth out the window
like I always do

Will this ever end
Will I ever find the answers
Will I love myself
Will I find the power
????

It’s all just a question of will,
right?

I made four blueberry muffins for breakfast.
I wore a sweater three sizes too big,
and sat on a futon two sizes too small,
reading a book I've only halfway finished
in twice the amount of time it would take
to write it.
I drove without my windshield wipers on,
three-quarters hoping I wouldn't make it
a quarter of the way across town.
I tried to picture myself walking around
without pulling my past along
behind me.
I tried,
but that doesn't matter.
**** today.
I only thought about you
while they were in the oven.
I only pictured you waking up
and feeling okay
every time I turned the page.
I leaned over and looked through
the right side of my windshield
to see the view you once had.
And the scars on my palms
are reopened every day
as I drag around everything
I cannot let go.