You'll never know that I miss you.
Even if I could find the words, the strength
I don't deserve to try and reclaim us
You're better off keeping me at length
The distance may hurt, but no wounds
will be made fresh. That's best.
If you read this, you'd call me out so easily
You'd remind me I was the cause of
this pain that lies within me.
"No pity for self inflicted wounds."
If only I had not replied to your angry words.
Maybe you'd be awake with me now,
making me laugh when I just couldn't cry
Pointing out beauty I often miss somehow...
But i distanced myself in a thousand ways
Choices piled up, unstoppable.
My stubborness to blame for this haze.
I want to give you this, but I won't.
So...you'll never know that I miss you.

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

Narcissus
In love with your own reflection.
Drowning in a pool of tears
Of your own making
Ultimately yours,
Heart-breaking.

How I adored
The image you turned on me,
Burned into my soul.
I knew it wasn’t real,
Yet I yearned to hold once more
The man I saw and loved there.

You bore deep down
Tore holes in the gossamer of my dreams
Whose tattered edges
I still cling to.
The mirror is broken now and its shards
Have turned my heart to ice,

Whilst you continue to shine
Your blinding smile on others
Enticing them to the
filigree web where
They will struggle ensnared as I have done
Smothered, stuck, drugged.

Where I remained,
Pinned back with honey words
and promises that poisoned,
Endearing looks, your searing touch
That fill me still with an image of love
Distorted, toxic.

Two-dimensional, glittering
Hard-edged, lacking depth,
The only image you care for is yours.
Mirrror-man

When to dust my flesh and bone lies
Bugs will eat the blue-gray from my eyes
God will take me, body and soul,
Then throw me in a deep dark hole
But hell will have no place for me
So I'll be flung unto the sea
Where the tempest shall spin and shout
And say, "No way," then spit me out
Across the grasslands, I s'pose I'll roam
A ghostly soul without a home
Oh, not for any evil deed
Nor any planted evil seed
No wicked sin I committed
Kept me from afterlife permitted
Though it's all nice, you can believe,
You weren't there, so I asked to leave.

Carbon copies
Saved to floppies
Mass production
Living zombies

Flawless Smile
Deny denial
Corporate luncheon
Stay a while

Evolution
Resolution
Final junction
Revolution

Jezebel has sunflower eyes
That sparkle when she laughs
She took a drive out nowhere
Without a destination
Or a map
She took a trip to nowhere
Then laughed and laughed and laughed
So tell me have you seen her
Have you seen those sparkling eyes
With a paisley dress and suntanned skin and her lips that spout out lies
Cause I know I saw her drive off
Saw her drive right off the edge
But once I heard her laughter
I knew that she was dead

Just like you, I couldn't wait to leave this place.
We drew lines across the map from point A to
anywhere we'd rather be but here.
We kept bags packed in the backseat, ready
To leave at a moment's notice, if we decided
Memphis called our names louder than
our worried mothers and fathers could scream.

You and I put ten thousand miles on that car;
We knew we were getting nowhere, but
we couldn't get there fast enough.
You told me we were born with gypsy blood,
ready to run.
I almost thought we were scared to stay in this **** town,
with the cobweb legacies and long-standing rivalries.

We weren't a tragic Romeo and Juliet, we could have been
together forever in a white house with a picket fence.
We could have had a family here, two kids and a hound dog,
beer on Friday nights with our friends
who swore they knew we were meant to be from the moment we met
when I was in love with your best friend and you
were scared to touch me.

I was a hurricane.
You were colder weather.
We had a whirlwind time, tearing up the country
and leaving our traces all over trailer parks.
You made fun of my metaphors, then told your worst story
that ended like our relationship-
without warning, with unexplained wildlife
and scabs on your knees.

This is not a mystery.
There is no hidden meaning here, to be examined
by critics and explained.
There is only country music lyrics and the lives of petty thieves.
This is not an expose on the triumph of human souls.
This is you and me.

This is fishing in the dark, caving in a blizzard,
running from the man with a banjo.
This is skinny-dipping in freezing water under the cliff
when you couldn't get me to dive in
and you proposed from the water.
I was so surprised, I fell.

This is not a mystery.
We are not an allegory or a parable
about the fallacies of human nature and the transience of lust.
We are lost souls: the classic drifters, who were born too late
to be outlaws.
You said this is progress,
the Industrial Revolution and the end of us.

I stood you up, and I'm sorry.
You had made your bed, so I ran
and you slept with her instead.
You found salvation in the Bible, while I had a
shot glass revival.
There was silence on the telephone lines-
I couldn't dial the number, and you never tried to call.

We were born to run, and we were scared to stay.
I stood you up, and I'm sorry.
You never loved me, and you're sorry.
All we ever say is sorry. You knew I stood you up, but
you were too proud to ask me to stay.
We kept the car packed because we were born to run,
but we always turned around just before we hit the interstate.

We were born to run, with gypsy souls and anxious hearts.
Fresno, California called our names, and we knew we could hit Memphis
in less than a tank of gas and half a day.
This is not a mystery, this is simply the fact
that I left before you made up your mind.
You had made your bed, but you weren't ready to sleep.
And this isn't about you. It's not a mystery to be deciphered.
I'm just tired of driving, and I wish you'd called.

It's sunny out today,
beautiful weather,
the best we've had in months.

I could be out for a walk,
reading on a sunny boulder in the woods
or even at the beach, listening to the tides.

But here I am, sitting at my desk
writing about what I should be doing
and listening to the children play and the birds sing.

I guess it's a habit.
Not going out.
I got used to it when I had no friends to play with.

I was always inside,
reading, writing,
or attached to a screen.

Never out playing street hockey
or basketball
with the other kids.

I guess I'm used to
shopping concerts and eating
by my self.

But I still miss
those days when I had the chance
to run and jump and shout.

Now here I am,
full of self pity
for opportunities missed and friends never made.