In keeping with tradition, stranger,
we will walk past one another and
not say a word.

I’ll glance nervously at converse on the
weedy walk; you’ll distract yourself
a nearby bird.

I’ll never know how you’ll cry alone
between linens tonight because you
realized you feel nothing.

You’ll never know how I pacify myself
with myths and lies just to keep
my composition.

We’ll both be lonely and never know
why. We both will always ache for
something we can’t name.

I could be

Dancing in a room
With lights that never sleep
And the heartbeat of a writer
And the bodies in the heat

Soaking in a picture
With a moving color stream
And the stories of a filmer
And the people of a dream

Laughing in a ball
With the chat of distant friends
And the tales of a neighbor
And the night that never ends

Instead I lay here

Lounging on my bed
With the darkness of the dusk
And listening to lovely lyrics
And they flow inside my head

While quietly we talk
With thoughts tenderly entwining
And the bliss that bubbles inside
And erupts in our cores

Sensing the heat of the other
With our bodies that lay so close
And the static energy in the space between
And the euphoria of purely being.

And there is nowhere I would rather be.

Secrets secrets secrets
I know all your stories
Your insecurities
Your dark side

Secrets secrets secrets

Some you told me
Some that other guy told me
Some I overheard
Others I have acquired illicitly

Secrets secrets secrets

I hold your reputation
And your mental stability
And your trust
In my hands

Secrets secrets secrets

I am trustworthy
And that's a good thing
But who hasn't made bad choices before?

Secrets secrets secrets

You know some of mine
Think you know all of mine
You could crush me bit by bit
but in the wrong hands,

Secrets secrets secrets

Are nothing but a truce between frenemies
Like two loaded guns
Aimed at eachother
Smiling, but set to **** if necessary.

Secrets secrets secrets

Are they really secrets at all?
Are you sure you know me?
Whispers run rampant here.

When did I stop missing you?
When did I stop living in the past,
constantly remembering?

We all need to move on from any death,
but is it bad I almost never think of you anymore?

I feel like there's no emotional attachment.
I don't remember you much anymore,
just the last time I ever saw you                                                                                                *alive

What is a happening but conscious cloud
bands the bright earth with softer mysteries.
A perfect balance between waking and dreams
so mastered by the brute blood of the air.
To be the thing being breathed
in burning whatever's inside that won't sleep.
More real than the real horizon,
awake for ever in a sweet unrest.
Higher, touching, sometimes fumbling
that's flowering. You're no good host to this.
For in my arms I hold
the value of being pleasant
in perfect time and measure.
It sorta works this time my love.

(Volkman, Colborne-Veel, Zagajewskiy, Yeats, Lasky,
W.S. Di Piero, Galvin, Keats, Irwin, Malech, Auden,
Uribe, Emerson, Olin)

I spoke to the sky today
a steel plate pressing me
I have not heard from her
something about the absence of sun
weighs too much
so I spoke to the sky today
I know all the reasons
the patterns and formations
and permutations
chaos theory
the science of highs and lows
explain to me
attraction to the sun
the way a leaf turns to it
by what will
she decides when she appears
I hugged my coat
by its pockets
I spoke to the sky today
and I told it to depart

I believe too much in my own Insignificance.
I spend too much time drowning out my own voice with alcohol.
I procrastinate on my own responsibilities.
I smoke too many cigarettes just to have something that passes the time between gulps.
I live too long in my memories.
I superimpose too much of what I thought I wanted onto what I have now.
I believe I am failing at everything I do yet act like I do everything better than them.
I live in a cluttered mess.
I pretend no one notices my obvious deficiencies.
I do things to get attention by hiding in plain sight.
I have real voices in my head.
I talk to myself, actually more like I scream at myself often.
I use other people's names as an escape word.
I secretly believe I am more important than I care to admit.
I foolishly think I deserve more.
I ignore my health.
I fantasize about things I would never want to actually participate in.
I still imagine I can be loved.
I sometimes believe women want me even when they already have someone.
I expect there will be magical occurrence in my life that will make me happy.
I enjoy causing myself physical pain if some aspect of it supposedly makes me stronger.
I long to have my life sacrificed if it means someone I love will survive longer.
I am jealous of my closest friends for being farther along in life and am obvious about it.
I spiral myself down to diminish the fear of falling.
I hate what I see in the mirror.
I believe I am destined for failure based on my genetics.
I drive too fast.
I often believe my way is the better way, until proven otherwise.
I torture myself constantly, in my head.
I ignore anything that I feel I don't know enough about to solve.
I find comfort in imagining being smashed into an unrecognizable blob of human remains.

This is the only existence I know. This is my normal.



*Summer2012