she has eyes like ice
and a mohawk the shade
of bubblegum

she's an artist
and a misfit
outfitted in
ethereal attire
the flows off her
alabaster skin
like wisps of shadow
or tuffs of smoke

she chews on her lower
lip when she thinks you
aren't looking and has
a nervous habit of
biting her nails
the polish is chipped
and cracked in some
places and sorely
needs a new coat

at first glance you
might think her fragile
but the subtle smirk
that tugs at either side
of her mouth belies a
quiet confidence
a take-no-prisoners
sensibility
a ****-it-all
attitude

not grounded in apathy
but nurtured in non-compliance
her lack of conformity is more
than some youthful
stage of defiance

she is disobedient and
everyone says they're afraid of her
that she scares them senseless
but i kissed her once and
we stayed friends after
i think she knows me better
than i know myself

she stands in the corner
of seedy concert halls as
cigarettes leave a haze above
the heads of pre-teens and
old metal-heads nurse their
alcoholic beverages
everyone pretends she is
somewhere—or even
someone—else

but not me
we stand together
sometimes we hold hands
and i catch her smiling
out of the corner of my eye
from time to time

We're a sad starving bunch

of stupid teenagers

sipping from the sky

an occasional rain drop.

We're a sad starving bunch

of secret-keeping teenagers

shrieking to the sky

the phantom growing pains and all too real slowness of our sappy lives.

We're a sad starving bunch

of sanguinary teenagers

shooting our brains toward the sky

attempting to sacrifice ourselves for something more serene.

having always been afraid
of heights
it makes me happier
than can be explained
that when
I found myself
in love with you
I hadn't fallen
but had been carried
moment by moment
into the deepest
purest love
I have ever known
though in finding
myself in unfamiliar depths
panic crept in
suggesting that
falling might be better
as you land in the shallows
but the sound of panic
could not be heard
over the sound
of a universe
transpiring to lead me into a future
that I have not yet
come to understand
beyond the feeling of finding
my way back home
but I haven't quite grown into this soul
that matches the one that you have
but a ghost of a promise
was made for a time
when I fit into a soul
that belongs with yours
until oblivion sends us searching once more

I did not know
until you turned around
you had the perfect ***
forgive me
for not falling in love
with your face
or your conversation

I am leaving my dear
  one of us has to go
    and I don't think  
      no
I know that it won't be you
  my love
    we are haunting these walls
       with the memories of a beginning
          that has long since passed
I know my angel
  that this hurts
     I know
       that this is tearing a hole in your heart
I know because my own heart
    is moth eaten and
      and if I could find a way
        to rekindle this love again
I would my sweet
   I swear it
      but the nights are too long and we're shackled
    to a love that once was
a fire that burned beyond the obvious
  the obvious
the obvious that we could never keep
      the storm from eventually blowing
over
and I know I'm rambling on my dove
but
    but I can't leave until I'm certain
           positive
that you understand I am not leaving
because  
    I don't love you anymore
   I am leaving because I believe
that if I steal your essence any longer from the world
    that you shall crumble in my hands
   and I will cease to be
so you see my dear I have to go
    because I believe that we both deserve
more

"are you awake?"
she whispered
to my almost lifeless corpse
as if it were a question
as if for all the world
I could sleep
over the sound of her quickly beating heart
"awake"
I replied

"good"
she mumbled
with the quiet satisfaction of a cat
as if it were her own small triumph
that against the sound of her rising breath
and the falling of mine
sleep couldn't be bothered to fight
"what's the matter?"
I replied

"what if the drugs aren't the problem"
she said
too loudly for my grated senses
but too softly for me to understand
for if drugs were not the reason
for the emptiness in our eyes
and the gaps visible between skin and bone
the holes in our clothes and our social skills
then what in gods name was
"what do you mean"
I replied

"what if the sober are lost on the inside
as we are lost without"
she said with a raspy voice
as if she was proving a point
I thought of my mother and all of her friends
their small sober minds
their existential questions
we did not ask where we came from
or where we go when we die
because we know
we've seen it
was this quiet drug addict
lying across my chest
with her soul in her hands
she was
"I think you're right"
I replied

"I think so"
she said
with a quick coy smile
as she lit up two cigarettes
and handed me one
justifying ourselves and our ways
that's all that we do anymore
its how we get by
its how we can steal cheat and lie
without a morsel of remorse
stuck in our yellowing teeth
"oh god this is how we die"
I replied

life is a cosmic joke
he said
as he drained his glass of purpose
she watched as he paid and turned to leave
his movements proving his point
for what real purpose do we have
when all we do is live and die
and whisper to deities in the sky.

life is a cosmic joke
she said
when the till was short again
and drinks were missing from their bottles
as meaning was from her existence
he watched as she left
for the very last time
from a job that she hated
like the life he despised

life is a cosmic joke
he said
as he lit up his last cigarette
and sat in the cold outside his bar
next to a homeless man
with as little hope of a good long life
as anyone else he'd ever met
in a world of perpetual sunset

life is a cosmic joke
he said
as he warmed his hands
over a dying fire
with a young man
who was lost or some such
he took the ragged gloves off his hands
and tried to feel his fingers again
in vain
as all the world is
in trying to find some hidden bliss

life is a cosmic joke
he said
as he crossed another identical street
next to a woman or maybe a girl
who was crying about a lost lover
he walked and he wandered
but he never found it
even with all his persistence
as we never find meaning for our existence

life is a cosmic joke
she said
as she wept into my hair
mascara running down her cheeks
as she told of her terrible break up
and the way he used to hit her  
and how she was glad he was gone
but how she wished he would come back
her indecision mirroring that of all the world
do we matter or are we matter
which illusion is left to shatter

life is a cosmic joke
I wrote
over and over
like some meaningful quote
as if it mattered if it was in a poem
or if someone read it
it doesn't need to be said
to be known
it stands on its own

life is a cosmic joke