My eyelids fall heavy upon my vacant eyes,
The dull pulsing of the harsh, artificial light
Throbs and shrugs up against my temples,
Running down onto the creases beneath my brow.
Last nights dreams lay stagnant beneath
My troubled mind- like lukewarm coffee,
The cream beginning to lump and curdle together.
I'm destined for this kind of solitude, I think.
My mind races and whirls off course,
Speeding straight past the acute turn,
Destructively hurdling into a thick pool of
Yesterday. Is this how it feels to be alive?
A stale taste of tap water and broccoli slowly
Rises up into my lungs, creating a subtle
Discomfort, too faint to be washed away by water.
I can feel the uneven rise and fall of my hollow chest,
As if it is set off balance by the absence of my red,
Pulsing heart. Something is off here.
Gradually, my body surrenders to the ruthless
Shadows of my conflicted soul.
Sinking in to the starch white sheets, all that is
Collapses into misplaced yeast and water daydreams
That only come out at night.

April is a month of forgotten dreams,
That began to fade away in February,
And drew their last breath in March.
Missed opportunities wax poetic
As the tumultuous spring wind pushes empty
Ideals into a realm of something not quite there,
But present enough to be felt over the roar of
Cryptic resolutions and half baked goals.

April is a month of resurrected love
That has already grown rotten and putrid,
Decaying under the warm, dirt ground
Built up over the heavy hopes of December.
Memories full of partial truths and "I love you"
Twist and pull at untuned heart strings,
Until a sad, sordid melody sounds out,
Almost completely evaporating before it reaches
Anyone brave enough to write it into reality.

April is a month that sometimes isn't really there
Until the middle of May, when a distinct pang
In the chest gives weight to its existence.

This is what seperates us:
Words that twist and turn,
Tiny hurricanes swelling up
Raising inside my throat-
Coughing and wheezing,
I spew them out onto
The eagerly awaiting paper,
Waiting to see what sticks,
While you just sit there
Vacantly waiting for something-
Anything, to sweep you off
Your perfectly positioned feet.

The ocean taught me how to pray

But did it cure your lust? For souls and statues full of things that bring even the pure to rust.

Her heavy waves caressed my feet, and brought my mind to bay

Ah, but there is something to be said about the sandy ground, that seeps and pulls beneath your toes, dragging the world round.

I thought I felt more for a moment, than ever the poor can plead

Did you turn your back to the gravel roads that paved your heart so true?

Only until my palms did freeze- stuck open in their greed

*Then let me ask you this, my dear, is heaven for the blue?
Did Posideon's cleaver hand articulate all that's known as true?
Or was it choice and choice alone that unearthed the pearly gate?
For ocean waves drown out the fate that so encompasses you.

Time spurts and sputters
Out of my mind
Like an oozing laceration.
Warm blood dripping
From a skinned knee.
9:00 fades into
10:00 and before
You know it,
Everything's gone.

can you hear me
underneath all the
mud caked up
against your
ears? strings hang
limply from your
mask as it
pushes out
casting a shadow
over your hollow
eyes. something
died here
i think. i can
smell it in your silence
does it hurt
to sit there and feel
nothing? decadence
decays faster
than modesty
when all your sentiment
is pasted and glued
between postcards
and pastures
on the heavy pages
of photo albums
empty
other than pictures.
how long has it
been now?
how many minutes
hours
forced responses
and isle seats
has it taken
for you to
realize that nothing
grows here?

Reality has spun its web,
Beneath the indifferent moon,
And as the ocean tides sigh and ebb,
It catches life- too soon.

Time has cast her heavy net
Upon the vacant skies
Begging dawn to ne'er forget
The sunsets slow demise.

Oh, fallen stars, don't fail me now
Your glow outlives your light.
Bear no sweat upon your brow,
For your death  is lost at night.

The sweetest eulogy does sound
Against the hollow space
That pushes the moon round and round,
Casting shadows 'cross my face.