steps were heard
they became distant
she had left me.

lost in a strange world
  only sense we can find
Is in peering through the keyholes
Of locked doors
we bang our fists
and spread the spark
hoping its sent down wind
setting smoke to the answers within
were drawnto the fire
like moths to a flame
Unwilling to be tamed
by the safety belt of the world
smoke seeps from the lock
and we inhale deep
ravenous for
the taste of something
real
the burn we feel
goes undetected
among the drowning men
In this shallow pool
Of lukewarm genuinity
and over-chlorinated sincerity
but we breath the fumes in
with a whole new strength
we break down the door
unleash the deamons
begging for more
than this
unless
we become one
With the fears,
we become none
so we rise with the deamons
and we rise up
above the conscience
dont give a ****
because we never could fit
Within the boundaries
Of a newborn dying man
these unatainable boundaries
never could never will never can

night chased into day as we watched dawn break upon mating birds
though none were heard
your words echo
from the hollow arches
of my bare feet

far away, i walk this road
catching daisies 'tween my toes
far away, the one that knows
quiet keeper of my soul
all night long i felt your hold
around my neck, you shine like gold
if the sun is ever
to lack in luster
or there comes a time when
the moon cant quite muster
that spiritual pull
in my heart of all homes
you always will

It's 7:41 on a Thursday,
she's away at school,
her feet aren't in the country,
she would say I warned you
and he would change the subject.
He can't be bothered,
and he who would move mountains
can't know how high they perch.
He's too high to notice,
and I gave her up to impatience months ago,
trading beer for cigarettes,
even though smoking kills.
He would cry victim,
and be right all along,
while she would smirk silently
and whisper
what goes around comes around.

It's 7:46 on a Thursday,
and your lips are far from mine
but in my mind,
still.
Still there, filled with words like
now
and
trust me, it'll start to feel good soon.

Still there, singing Iron and Wine
with too much soul and not enough rasp.

Still there, chapped and peeling,
blowing smoke in my eyes so I can't quite see.

Still there, asking for another hit,
and apologizing because you hit too hard,
but hit the **** again
because we both know what you really mean
when tension is fire and your fists are the savior
So go for it,
hit again
maybe this time I'll bleed enough for you to notice.

Notice,
notice.

The mix tape I left you has love written all over it,
literally.
Is the birthday card still on your dresser?
Ironic.
My dresser,
your dresser,
your fist,
my nails.
We all seem to have something in common here,
maybe none of us know how
or when
to stop.

Stop.
hit,
ignore,
light up,
fall down,
get high again,
bend over,
trapped under...
this time the answer is

**no.

A swarm of horses sailed toward the sky
half in reverse of the ocean,
a heart that questioned the reflection of seaside.
Back in the south she melted bicycle gears to liquor
Quenching a million budding buoys becoming boys.
Inside her smile, a compartment of spit
beside the blinds sealed off to the color red.
In a room full of eardrums
a name like a knife,
rooting and sewing the ground of your yearning.
The moon shook you
As fast as headache turns to dust.
It hits harder then your hands,
softer then tears of antelope sliding down sails;
A reminder how you looked 
when you first caught my eye
Plastered on the tree of a chandelier
Hanging as high as suicide pastries
Under emerald flavored corneas.

Each streak of sun
Is softer then the next
Except for your ray,
The brightest on this side of the triangle.

Twenty six layers of skin on the mountain;
One for each mile between
Your bare feet
And the fire by my shore.

The core of tectonic foundation swallowed words like
I love you
Until you guided my lips
To a mutual spine.

My favorite vertibre is your silent laugh,
How you have to be on top when we hold hands,
The way you catch each shooting star at exactly the right time to whisper
I love you
So it sounds like you mean it.

I can't say I said to stop
but I never asked for this to start.
It was a Monday,
A cold one when you first held my hand.
Well not my hand, my hips actually,
but it may as well be the same thing at this point.
I told you not to fall and I swear to god I meant it,
But anyway,
seasons change and nothing stops the wind from blowing.
It was the comfortable type of pain, you said,
the kind where you forget what it was like to breathe normal.
Somewhere along the way by the rocks or maybe even in a field,
I remembered why I loved you
And cried to each and every blade of grass because they'd never understand.
I pulled out clumps and chunks until all that was left was dirt,
And when I realized what was gone I sat blisterung in the sun,
threading each and every blade back into place.
The difference was,
no one was waiting on my side with a needle to repair the damage,
Because I crossed the bridge to you.
You didn't play the part
You let the part play you and ego swallowed you whole.
You were free to go at any time,
I never made you stay
And the word I love you sounded tainted coming from hands that pressed my body to the ground.
Nothing bites as hard as reality
Except you, according to my neck at least.
I'm sorry we ever became lovers because since October the girl has changed but the moon has stayed the same.
And can I tell you something...
You never even ment a thing.