If I tried to write about you, but only managed a sentence or two,
Would you say I was trying to hard?  
Or not trying enough?
It’s not my fault I can’t put you into words.
And you, you just use an inordinate amount of beautiful words.
It’s insensitive of you really,
Because when you describe me in that way you do,
I’m left breathless and have lost all of the glorious words for your ears to hear.

I will wake up Saturday morning
& take a deep breath,
for the world will
be here.

& if it isn't, you can tell me *I told you so.

and there's the etch a sketch again,
dragging the metal 'round her wrists,
just to feel,
and heroically I fight to be her champion,
waging wars against the depression of her breaths,
and I remember her pain,
it hurt more then mine,
and I stood beside her
and we paired mutilated aortas,
with decaying hearts,
and I thought this would be different,
that some how the story would change,
because it was us,
us against them,
us against the lust,
and all we wanted was time to be together,
time bleeds love into,
us against crumbling trust,
us against us.

I thought this story was different but in the end,
we speak not,
we trust not,
and we forget and forgive not,
and all we bring to the table of life is left rotten,
desires and dreams untended,
all we are and all we are not is shadows now,
and we are stuck waiting for a train that may never come.

(the city had fought the fortnight before)
fire burned through the little skirts
and plastic lunch boxes
carrying the nourishment of our future
doctors and worldshakers—

                                 Future
tax paying Americans
And beacon of the nation.

Wide awake, in the thoughts of a light bulb,
(Where sidewalk stairs politic with the devil,)
A raindrop fell and whispered to the asphalt,
“Tell me what you know about happiness…”
And somewhere, in the middle of a pineapple parade,
A Pepsi can smiled and danced the night away with Nyquil labels.

I made you something for Christmas.
Nothing that could ever satiate your
expensive taste. More brass than gold.
A little worn, a little old just
like my apologies and all of those
"I miss you"s.

Life is funny.
There is such
a thin line,
between good
and bad. Right
and wrong. Pain
and healing.

Today I hurt myself.
I watch my blood run
and I smiled. I smoked
a black and mild nice
and slow, thinking
about the benefits of
cancer. Dying.

Today I could have
stopped myself.  A few
breathes, a hot shower.
I could have left
my sharp edged friend
untouched. I could have
called someone to
enjoy feeling loved.

But I didn't.

Today I almost died.
Yesterday I did.
I wonder what tomorrow
Will bring me.