you see me in the mirror
you see me on the road
but you don't in the moment
i am letting go
you think it's okay
to let my soul go unanswered
since i seem unbothered
but you have't realized
you are letting go
we don't talk like we used to
rituals are forgotten and got old
i try not to remember the last time
we spoke on the phone

i was walking in a dream
in the music in the air
i could taste the floor steps above
i could feel the mirror watching back
i was a child this morning i recall
before the doors closed
before the windows opened
before the attic collapsed
i was a wet basement
i was a cold breeze that makes your eyes tighten
i was everything, i was nothing

it's always darkest before the dawn
but it's not even midnight

like a ghost ship
from the fog, she appeared -
she had snakes in her hair
and rubies in her eyes
as i drank from the ocean
i wondered if this was my time -
like a ghost ship
carried by the wind, she appeared -
with spiders' webs in her lungs
and moonshine in her heart
i took her hand
to walk together in the dark

we had it all
the popcorn
the peanuts
all the salty snacks you could ask for
and then some
drunk degenerate drove down a road
some maniac of a man on a mission he only noticed
when stomach acids burnt the back of his throat
he wasn't always so quiet
he wasn't always so unkept
but
things change

we were lighting cigarettes backwards
in the backseat, drinking from plastic cups
do you miss me?
do you miss days when
so much didn't matter
so no matter what we did, we
were just happy to be there -

i was a gear
turned twisted and forgotten
i was a number
in a cell hoping for freedom
i was a drink
with a twist and a set of flirthish hips
she wouldn't
give a scarf to someone
she didn't want warm

it's almost 2 years
since i saw her last,
her eyes in her hands
and my heart in my lap -
- and it's been hours i can't count
days since we spoke,
i swim in frequencies and signals
and drink in the smoke -
- and these mornings, i fade with the stars,
and at night, i come home late and sit in my car

there are spiders in my hair
building nests and killing flies
there are spiders in my hair
cobwebs in my heart, and fangs in my eyes
you don't have to do this, she said
as the lights flickered dim
and the rain started to fall
you don't have to do this, she said
i know, i said -
i know.

I don't know what to say, I said, thinking
it's all been said before, I can't trust
my judgement anymore -
I lost the keys
I kissed her back
I drank the poison
and I thought I heard you laugh -
I don't know what to say, or how to say it
Does it really make a difference,
where we're all headed?

i knew you'd call
so i didn't answer

what good is a
square jaw
and bright eyes if
you can't get out of bed?

i spent all day updating dating
profiles and drinking champagne -
sipping iced coffee on bright beaches
i daydreamed as the palm trees waved -
pillows of smoke and wide blue skies
i wondered what you're doing today -
who you talk too, and what they say
i thought i saw the future
i saw it coming for my soul
i ran as fast as i could
i didn't realize i was letting go

loneliness is a dull knife
in a damp drawer
it's when
you're not sure what's worse
catching them in a lie
or never knowing the difference

i would gladly trade you a today
for a tomorrow - and a tomorrow, for yesterday -
i would give you a share of my stock
for a slice of wedding cake - a gold bar
for a plane ticket - and
i would
grab you a cloud, from the ocean's breeze
i would
give you the air, right off of the palm trees -
- and i would
let the rain, rinse against your cheeks, and
and i would let days, somehow turn into weeks -
i let days, turn into weeks
just moments we'll remember in years
fear of what might happen, fear of what won't
fear of what will happen, fear of what won't
when they call your name,
what will you be known for?
when they call my name,
what will i be known for?

I don't write like I used to -
using excuses, like
"These are the times you write about" -
but it doesn't come, the pen has dried
the thoughts have drifted out to sea
out to pasture - off to sleep for eternity -
I don't taste food much these days,
I usually push it past my tongue deep into
my stomach like fodder into a furnace, crackling flames
boiling my voice box, wooden bones, I don't have much to say
Too much I feel lost, wasted space in a crowded room
I don't call you in this cold war, and the phone won't ring
I don't call you in this cold war, and the phone won't ring.

i saw a ghost
between the commercials
in the middle of the night
and for a moment
i couldn't hear anything
except the static

You didn't see me, yesterday
at the mall, outside
American Eagle, perched
over my phone, praying to God
that tomorrow's flame-filled tornados
and neon Nuclear nightmares didn't strike
like lotto tickets after 20 years salary wasted
after 20 years wasted in front of the bottom of cups
and the ends of wet joints -
No, something about today's different -
it's always darkest before the dawn
and it's always coldest before the crack,
sometimes I feel like letting go of you
and never looking back - I know
You must've figured the same
maybe I'm too wracked with disdain -

i turned a blind eye
a hard nose, a deaf ear
a cold shoulder, to words unspoken

i am an open book
letters in the wind
words in the weather
there's a storm on the horizon
i tried warning you
once, twice -
i tried telling you
once, twice -
i am an open book
harshness in the mellow
i am an open book

my head is a circus
my heart is an elephant

there's a photo
of you with me the frame
im off to the side
wishing we were the same
and today, i found that photo
and remembered that day
i was wishing for things
to be as they were
and not much has changed

i could smell
pink cotton candy and cinnamon in the breeze
buzzing chimes and bells
change machines ringing coins against metal
children laughing and running by
a few cars pass with their windows down and i feel
coarse sand in a damp bathing suit
against my skin
i see boxes of fireworks opening
and the sun is going down
if only i knew this was the last time we'd be there like this

i have a soft spot for
tough times, i said from my stomach,
pouring out thick-red wine,
dusty lights and heavy air, breathless voices
and silverware clattered --
i can't be
your rock and
your punching bag, she said with one
corner of her lips curled,
reaching for her glass, a dry wooden door
shut, and the whined shriek of wind
stopped.

automatic doors
never worked for me
- and in a mirror
i saw the past
- and when it is early
the blood rushes to my throat
- and i see red
every time,
i dream

i miss the sounds of cars
splashing through wet snow and slush puddles
and
i miss a calm stillness as
snowflakes fall under distant streetlights
and
i miss the taste of salt
when i slip on frozen city sidewalks
pressure building in my face
and
i miss wearing jackets too big
and socks too long
i miss the heavy blankets
and the drinks too strong

where do we go when the lights cut
and the music stops?
i don't bother with the insects in the walls
i don't read the news or watch cable television
who's on the other side? i ask

her fingers crawled
around my mouth
like a spider

i was an open book
no one wanted to read
lessons of a pain that hurt
and visions from eyes that bleed
i was a frail hand on a rail
i was the last drag of your cigarette
i was a loud crash in the middle of the night
you didn't ask to be put here
with all the problems and the blame
you just work with what you got
you just work with what you got
you just work with what you got
you just work with what you got
what you got?

i
saw a friend of
a friend of a
friend, tonight - they said, the night sky
was drenched with tequila sweat, hot - and the
oceans crash with waves of acid, the
forests ablaze with a hatred so hot you can't hear much
in the breeze; you
talk and i hear nothing.
i
kiss the hands of the weary
i
intoxicate and dissolve toxins
i
belong in the chaos, a puzzle
in a playground, a tire swing
a sandbox, a wine glass stained with
lips pursed desperate for change -
i
don't do much these days
i drink
i eat
and i lie awake at night