When did I become so bitter?
Used to be the guy seeing a bag and pick up the litter,
now I watch it blow by,
less of a smile and more of a sigh,
my kid, my teenage self would never want to be this guy,
singing loudly used to be a habit,
now I just write sad poems on a laptop or tablet,
not the type you come to,
because all my colors are gone cept for blue,
what happened to you?
when did I become so sad?
instead of always seeing good,
now its just all bad,
not optimistic nor real,
just writing to make me feel,
but it doesnt help like i need it,
I used to finish a poem and sigh off the ****,
but now I'm consumed bit by bit,
by this world,
by my life,
by my past,
used to smile while finishing last,
dreaming was a hobby and I would want to sleep,
now I run away from dreams and stay awake till the alarm goes beep
when did I get so bitter?
used to take care of drunk friends like a sitter,
now the days are gone and I'm drinking alone,
waiting by the phone,
but not answering the call,
I used to see girls and feel my heart stall,
and smile when they looked my way,
now their eyes look and say,
what happened to you?
Why am I so bitter?

The innocence of a sunrise,
a dance in the middle of the street,
putting on pjs and getting some early morning fries,
a simple love, a love thats new,
watching the sunrise, and staring at the sky while swinging and tasting the blue,
hands getting sweaty,
and nights are too long,
there is no such thing as a sad song,
and if there is, its to remind you what you have left behind,
clouded mind,
full of future times
that always seem so golden
while the past seems to fade away,
a butterfly in the tummy,
its forcing its way through,
a simple love, a love that's new.

It's long past,
and the love wasnt the last,
it was cute and fun,
that made me like everything a little bit better and brighter, including the sun,
it was easy and made sense,
but now we just look over the fence,
at other loves that have made things work,
we may grab hands and say were certain,
but as we around us begins to fall the curtain,
separating our yards,
throwing into the air all 52 cards,
grabbing and screaming at the air,
I do not dare, try and break the steel curtain,
and through the holes I can see her smile,
who knew it would be here and gone so fast,
looking back on the past,
it was a love that couldnt last.

Now every time I see,
lovers saying "I'll never leave",
I get a butterfly forced in my tummy,
it pulls oot its money,
and buys a beer,
flapping around drunk and insecure,
making me stumble and run,
and listen as the song is sung,
making the new songs sound blue,
I miss that simple love,
a love that's new.

I havnt seen you in years,
through the happiness and the tears,
I confer a dream,
it wasnt happy nor mean,
just me asking if you opened your present,
and you looked at me with eyes that made me feel like a wealthy peasant,
we were laying in a field,
you were my guard and I was your shield,
the world around us began to burn,
and I felt like there was something to learn,
so I asked if you had anything left to give,
your hand on my cheek,
you told me to just live,
the answer wasnt the reverse question that I seek,
I held you close and it felt so real,
even though we have always been too far from each other to feel,
you told me you had to go because friends dont do this,
but how could I turn down the loveliness,
I couldnt, and I begged her to stay,
she said this was just a dream and go I had her to let,
I woke up then drenched in sweat,
and my pillow shmooshed against my face,
closing my eyes tight I beg God to let me go back to that place,
to let me back in the field to hold her once more,
but after a while,
my eyes just began to feel sore.

I shot myself in the foot
Almost a year ago now
but I've only just realized it's still bleeding
I felt it twinge in the fall
felt the welt as it began to fester

but **** I'd thought it'd heal

The trickle is starting to stain
and I'm not quite sure it can be stopped
I'm not quite sure that I don't just have to live with it
I've got a solder and some gauze
but is it too much to ask
that I just get the bullet out?

soft and warm you fall into me.
brushing my cold walls as they melt to form into you.
alone we dance
in this slow trance of senseless ecstasy and wonder.
skin is thin
finger tips sink in
as they fall in to the notches of your beautiful bone structure.
caressing you exterior
your life vibrates on to mine.
like silk threads straining through my fingers
sighing in your crisp aura
i feel whole

Tick, tick, tick.

The sounds of his fingers dancing on his keyboard,
lulling to me to sleep.

Click, click, click.

The sounds of him fighting the boss battle,
leads me to my dreams.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

The sounds of her drawing,
guards me as I rest.

The glow of the television eliminating our faces.

Surrounded by friends,
I see no better way,
to end my day.

Home is a funny place,
its somewhere between love,
and a warm bed.

It lives between a building,
and a sole.

It is a place,
an idea,
and a person.

Home is where you can be yourself,
where you don't need to try,
and you are loved.

Home does not need to be where you live,
or where you sleep,
or where you keep your things.

It can be in a hallway,
on your way to class.

On a beach,
in the middle of summer.

In a restaurant,
surrounded by people.

In a studio,
in a hug,
on the street.

Home can be a place,
but it can move.

Though your address may never change,
your home could be always moving.

You may think that you lost your home,
but maybe you just lost yourself.
When you find it again,
you will see,
it has always been waiting.

Home may not always be the easiest place to be,
it needs constant upkeep,
and it is not always simple.

Everything you put into your home,
will come back,
and the more people you invite in,
the larger it gets.

Dare to let them in,
dare to be hurt,
dare to build a home.

My friends,
thank you,
for building a home,
with me.

******* freezing
but what the hell, it's real
ice and chill made by snow and wind and winter
storm rising up for the day, for
the night - the last night
well almost the last night
but who's counting

Tropical paradise sits on the horizon
or more like, lurks in the corner
of my east facing eyes just
to the right I see the jet trails of my
inevitable flight back
home?
thats what dad calls it but he never lived there
why is it my home to him?
does it make it easier to watch me go?
if I'm going home instead of leaving them
alone
well almost

The cold the snow the winter chill locking
us in our beds in our rooms
and we watch the news and laugh 'cause
who does fox 25 think they are anyway?
we've weathered worse man but here you are
sitting on Cedar Point acting like
no one would have thought it would flood
no one thought the rocks would come up
over the wall
that sand hills would be left with no sand
that the waves would crash up over the rooftops
like a cold and raging war
jokes on you, man
we were all in on it

I think I'll take this cold
over tropical paradise
where the cold is locked in with you
a necessity to breathe in the thick
the sagging air that wraps you in a - hug?
nah, straight jacket I say

then why do I miss it when I'm here?
The processed AC clanging through the night
the breathe of two half strangers feet away
******* shorts every day
no shoes, no shirt
no **** man it's hot out

maybe dad's on to something
maybe
may
nah