“No one is ever satisfied with the success, is ever satisfied with the success, is ever satisfied with the dream.  It’s the hunger before a meal when you realize how good it is to be alive.”

With each passing day I feel youth slip from my bones like scoops
falling off a summer ice cream cone to blistering pavement. 

All of my friend’s dogs are dying of old age just like mine. 

Childhood trees we used to climb have either grown too tall to reach
or were struck by lightning.  Decisions, no matter how trivial, become monumental
in the scope of time.  There is no end in sight…only the faintest memory of humble beginnings, leading us
blindly into the vacuum of tomorrow, ******* the dreams from our head to feed the plague of survival.

That’s why you bruise with a breath.  Your heart beats too hard for your house of card frame.  Your body—desert willow—thrives on nothing, pumping cells full of carrots, vitamins and codeine.

Last night, While you were sleeping, I sank to the bottom of the ocean
with a seven mile chain attached to a thousand pound anchor and a Swiss army knife.  Slipping
through seasons I fell colder and deeper and darker, waving and giggling as I sank
for miles, watching the surface light blur and fade completely until I was in night,
a gentle pulse of luminescence massaging me with it’s glow, the old-ironsides squid laughing,
the rave fish pulsing with dinner plate pupils, the leather armor jellyfish are calm as Sunday's first ****,
and the flat rainbow fish spin their data and vanish into black.

All I think I know at 22:
Why they call this the information age;
What Buddy meant when he said, “There is a distance the size of bravery”;
This is the best part.

when he said, 'give me your hand'
i was on my way to another land
sitting around with a dutch in my hand
it seemed so absurd that with tears you told me
you had said yes

of your only two
hes the second best
I'll go around
and start a fire in a different room
to cope with the feeling
of these brides and grooms,
swearing you both love each other
while you now smile

if you're gonna take my sister,
make one promise mister,
promise that you'll love her
promise when she cries,
you will be the cloth
to dry her running eyes,
do the things your father does
for your mom,
talk to me a bit when you're in my old home
treat her like you have a gun to your head
cause if shes not smiling
you should wish for death

you were there, god knows i need you man
holding the puzzle, together
while we both were dying to take our own apart

plastic six footers
your lungs are the only in one to clear the smoke
our friend mr. kool-aid is a tricky fellow
as we incinerate beautiful gifts from the earth,
let us destroy our movie collections
and flip back through them ten fold
you know them word for word dude
i thought i have skills with quotes

you were falling apart
help together we are both
both searching for something our friendship possesses

if you don't come by, i'm sure to be over before work
it seems like days haven't gone by
since BC mango and great lakes were had as fireworks celebrated.

i wanna see your face before you see maui
scared we'll never burn trees again
you are my best friend
i shouldn't be afraid
for i know you'll be there
with a tuxedo, as i start a family
i haven't met her yet

i'll be your best friend, and you shall be mine
no matter the distance, no matter the time
cause we'll still have those trips
where we didn't go anywhere
you said people might thing we were together, cause we always were,
splitting sticks of cancer
smoking each other up
dragging one another to bars or back form them
when feet wouldn't go in front of the other.

dude, you are my brother, i've never had
if you ever need anything, don't think to ask
i miss you like crazy whenever drums stomp
basses slap or guitars and voices sing
i'll listen to you and our old friends at work or with fake friends
and always tell them its the ****
for me music is something that takes me back
back to the dog days, were catch and air hockey were played,
so kick my *** at darts one more time
lets go grab a beer, have a spliff
and repeat,
i miss you!

the way an overhead fan blows stray hairs across your cheeks
you offer a bite of something to a friend with occupied hands, and you
   accidentally press your finger to their lips
you are pale and purple-eyed in computer screen-light on a tuesday
   midnight but the reasons in favor of going to sleep have suddenly vanished

one of your knuckles cracks louder than all the others
you are ashamed to admit that mistreatment simply fails to stir your anger
you wanted to make origami boxes out of huge sheets of newspaper at 4am
   but you were alone and couldn't think of anyone who would appreciate the
   activity

the hand on the small of your back is barely reassuring
you wished you could speak slowly but all your thoughts are flitting flashes of
   still-lifes, bursting with inconsistent voice
your touch makes my skin bristle and I want to own you, if just for one
   linoleum-floored, whiskey-strange moment

Wondering where it came from, this obsession with threes and trinities,
And there you were,
My third deity,
My third sainted portrait,
The halo around your hips:
A new Orion’s Belt of dark blue current that spills from this night
This night that looks so much warmer than it feels
And feels so much closer than it looks

I remember that the grass was damp
And besides that I’d kicked off my borrowed shoes.
And there were hands on my waist,
Hands in my hair,
And the smell of summer idiocy on my fingers and lips.
This bright red coal in the night
Against you, dressed all in black.
I can still see my breath ringed out
Around the dome of the church
As I held my wasted money between *******
And wound two more through your belt loop

I remember the two of us laughing
At the emotional lives of our friends,
But even as I’m modestly filling out
My libertine’s title,
We have to admit that we have our own problems,
Even if we refuse to name them.

Sometimes I think all my problems are etymological.

And whatever there is in the attack,
I can’t help but miss it in the retreat;
Maybe it’s the way we refuse to let go.

The beat of my heart makes it difficult
not to be blinded
by the reality of my own thoughts
when they are broken down within the sounds
of my dreams.
Yet, no one hears the wind
running through my mind
and I find nothing is
as it seems.

All I do is race to hide from the smoke of lies
to find subtle truth
inside of uncertainties colors
but what I come across
means nothing to you.  
When I drift off to sleep I bleed mirrored glass
until I forget about the bruises
for a moment
or two.

I want someone to listen to the words I speak
even when breezes fill their hands
and time goes by quicker
than the air they tasted.  
No longer do I wish to live and breathe
In this life of empty rooms
where my heartbeat
is wasted.

Tonight I sit and weave faith upon grounds
where forever
I have searched through eyes
that paint my mistakes with words
of ecstasy.  
Yet still, the beat of my heart
makes it difficult
not to be blinded  by love,
even when
I know....
you lie to me.