The sun will beat down on your down casted eyes,
Your shadow will stretch in front of you, begging for separation from what you are becoming.

You will fall in love and he will walk with you on cigarette-covered streets. Tripping on uneven sidewalks and petting stray cats.

He will grow apart from you, like your shadow does when the sun sets.

Later, he will leave and you will be A walking hole with arms and legs, like a hollow tree,
In the park the children play around you but never questions how the hole got there, it is now filled with old, bird’s nests and people’s forgotten garbage, where the others have etched their lover’s name with a promise that is too hard too keep.
You will collect it all much like how his words collected in your mouth, and his shoes smelt up the room.

you will no longer wander with a beating heart.

Staring at the crescent shaped scar on your arm,
Smelling you, like outside, like old rain on the pavement.
You rub my back slowly and I fall asleep

Now. Sitting alone in the kitchen, sipping twice re-heated coffee,
Snow is melting off the grass.

He left behind reminisce I can't return
his imprint in the sheets.
old hairs  left behind from tossing and turning.
I can only find his warn out socks in the garbage can,
caked in blood from a hard walk to work

I take out the garbage, dump the coffee,
Talk to a few people that fill a gap, and they
Tell me how much they love me.

They are just words now, with no connection.
I say it back to be polite, I smile to ease the burden.


and maybe at one time I loved them too.

I was

was was
was

was
Was



was
was

broken­

was
Was

lost

was


was           was



…………..




without you.



I am
am

am am


am     surviving
(barely)

Last time you talked he had a beer in
his hand.
he talked about her eyes,
When you kissed you ripped his papers with
your feet.

but he is home sleeping now,
While you wait for a plane to take you 500 miles away.


When you’re a child waiting
For the plane feels like an eternity.
When you’re on it doesn’t even feel like it’s moving.

you wonder why it isn’t enough to fall asleep on their shoulder during a 40 minute plane ride.


You grip the arm rests,
Squeeze your eyes shut,
And you want to run and tell him,
You know all the things he knows now,
So he can love you, like he loves her.

I.
I walked home from a grocery store
5 miles from my house,
I walked a long gravel road without shoes
Blisters forming and bleeding, stones stabbing my feet

II.
While walking I saw a young boys grave marker
Designed like hockey sticks next to a bench, with his picture
And fresh purple flowers.


I never noticed it from the road.


III.
There was a rotting deer carcass
Not far from the field,

when I took a breath in,
I realized I now know what death smells like.

I felt it watching me as I walked away,
And I was afraid.


IV.
The sky became dark,
While I walked through people’s yards, by windows with families looking back at me.
I walked without shoes through wet grass, leaving blood trails.

V.
I walked into my house with a feeling of a dread,
Looking at the mess I left behind on the carpet of blood and grass
Washing my feet in my tub, a blood blister covering my heel.


We are surrounded by death, and too busy to see it.
We are a self centered world, we are all

Dying alone..

Staring at the crescent shaped scar on your arm,
Smelling you, like outside, like old rain on the pavement.
You rub my back slowly and I fall asleep

Now. Sitting alone in the kitchen, sipping twice re-heated coffee,
Snow is melting off the grass, the sun beats down on us all,
Time is passing slowly.



We split and turn into different people, with each season, each time.
We come to know, what it is to wake up and feel sudden loneliness,
sudden silence from the voices in your dreams.

The phantom warmth around your body when you imagine the person is there.
But it is only their imprint in the sheets. Only old hairs they left behind from tossing and turning. You can only find their warn out socks in the garbage can, caked in blood from a hard walk to work.

Everyone leaves behind reminisce that you cannot return.


You take out the garbage, dump the coffee,
Talk to a few people that fill a gap, and they
Tell you how much they love you,

But it is nothing more than how it sounds when snow is covering the trees. When nature goes back to sleep, when the world becomes a white blur.

They are just words now, with no connection.
You say it back to be polite, you smile to ease the burden.


And maybe at one time you loved them too,

But for now, they just keep the days going.

All roads lead to the hospital…
To the room of your own conception,


Where you were pulled into the world by
unknown hands.

You claim it is your artistic style that makes us.
That positions the words on this page,
You say mine is too broken



Up.


All roads meet in your bedroom,
With abandoned bottles and shoes, the smell of old coffee filters,


You claim you are at odds with your creator,
With your creation.

And I am the muse who later came to **** you.

I am the voice you sought for reason

But silenced like a sedative.


All roads split at the old school building with memories
And hung up black and white photos with no pattern or placement with the false claim of being an instillation.


You are forever in those photos, in my mind, finger printed by your existence.

I  was sleeping on the floor, where you consummated your first relationship, and I wondered how these moments all get intertwined.

Me, your first real love, laying on top of your first time, with someone you used for a warm body to fill the void
That you created
For yourself.
All roads end with an unclean floor.