bleed me a little taste
out of your eyes
into your mind
and through the skin
so i can imagine what you really are

give me a little idea
of your life
throughout the years
where you've been
so i can draw up my own timeline

and give you a better feeling,
some security as to who i am

so i can give you a reason
to say you know me.

the whole idea
that you'd had
in three lines
or less
is much less
than a whole
thought.

so don't waste my time
don't waste my space
don't waste my life
waste your own
in lesser thought
and in lesser
idealism
than what's real poetry.

i've never thought
i'd read more ****
posted about some idea
than what i've read
on here
in there
just to pump some ******
deeper into my veins
to calm my nerves
and calm this pain.

flown to some far off land
dropped and forgotten
silenced by seclusion
and now announcing:
               "i'm not going to be stuck here forever, you all just wait and see!"
ironic and symbolic,
you're stuck, son
but you'll find out
how to get out of here
               "i swear that's not my conscience, nor my sub conscience working right now."
you're boiling over
and you need to just simmer
here, in the summer
where you make your last stand
               "this has to be madness, some form of incompetence of the gravity of my situation."
*no, you're fine,
you're just getting lost again
inside of me, yourself
and that mess you carry around
as the mind that once was mine.

as you whined
for the climb
got only harder
so you'd barter
your soul
with the devil
to try and make it
when you'd fake it
in the silence of it all
and the wavering call
to the shores far away
as they'd always say
you'd belonged in another land.  far from this one.  you were lost out here, wandering aimlessly toward whatever you thought there was a purpose in.

written out on napkins, scrap pieces of paper, and the occasional wall i find barren
the love letters that i've been writing to no one; i'm still trying to forget her
and it's getting harder to lose the words in myself as i lose myself in the words
that i've put down on whatever, where ever i find the time in a love letter
to no one.

so, as i pour myself out into my typewriter and write the types of feelings
you should know i've been trying to forget you as each line passes
as i pour myself another shot in the dark of the days i've been seeing through light
you're long gone, dead, and still unable to see without the frames of your glasses
through no one.

you've taught yourself not to let the letters find you out there in the wild
as i wildly write these letters from the bottom of my heart
sending them off to be edited by the endless critics and satyrs of our time
that have no clue where i'm coming from or even where i had to start;
for no one.

observed in
our empty lots,
italicthere's still the timeitalic
to plot
our demises in the eyes
of our own ****** lovers
italicas they slowly beginitalic
in catching
our drifting lies
that we've so carefully hidden
italicthroughoutitalic
our over-planned
and our over-justified
senseless lives.
italicyet, we give themitalic
a purpose
for the time that we fill
with self-dulling
italicideasitalic
and our own
revelations
of this
italicidealistic fantasy.italic
we've fantasized for fun.

When you're roaming down that old dirt road of ambition,
remember all that ambition you're leaving there in the dirt.
While that road carries you down another hill towards some hiatus,
that space where you'll think you feel safe with what you've got
left inside of you.

And as you pass the different paths you could've taken,
rather than turning off this old dirt road you've ambitiously wandered,
think of all the times you'd just had that one decision to make.
How, now, as you walk on past yet another, all those paths you eyed
and left behind you.

After you've thought about the time of this exploration of ambition
that you've nearly given all but up on, keeping that goal in mind,
just think about the chances you really have taken on your own happiness,
your own levity of your ambition, and those hoarse decisions you made
to get outside yourself.

you can't possibly think i've been that mislead
by the simple words and excuses you've used.
for one reason or another, you continue,
and i'm feeling my kindness is abused.
i'm not one to really speak up much,
and really say how it is i feel.
but you need a reality check,
because nothing you say is real.

you keep pushing what's the truth as false
and the falsehoods i find to be quite real,
and it's beginning to make me really question,
whether or not you have the sensation to feel.
and if you do, i'm sure it's not prevalent,
for i've known the way you've said you've felt.
and as you pass through life in line,
how's that ride on the conveyor belt?

you're bound for an end, similar to all else's,
and you're bound to be quietly disappointed
in the mass amount of disappointment
you're only bound to find that's been anointed
into the fabrics, frayed and torn of your being.
but i know there's not much hope left,
that what you're really feeling at all
is nothing but a spacious cleft


**in your heart.

I'd empty every devilish idea
in a minute to fulfill your imagination,
And I'd open every crack in every corridor
so passing wasn't such a passé,
And I'd push every moment to be better than the last
and sleep soundly at night with you.

I'd pour my heart and soul into our lives
to make you happy again and see you truly smile,
And I'd hamper your days with love and beguile you again
if you'd focus on more than the bigger picture
And be ****** sentimental and loving
again.

unwarranted threatening,
irrational processes of elimination,
and purposeless annihilation
of every last ******* morsel;
every last ******* bit and piece
you ever had to say
stings as it hits me
through the skeleton.  
you're a skeleton too, i hope you know.

i'd given up enough of myself to see this may just have to be the last time.

i can sleep wholly, warm and perseverant,
cold to the touch and collected, calculated,
;ambivalent; broken to bits for second-hand consumption
;solvent; pieced to placeless points and to absorb
;coerced; begging for some unanswered sole surprise
;preserved; in warding.

I Am Whole.

quickly through your head
and out of your mouth
before you know what's said
it's that punk rock n' roll
rotting your soul.

again it's blasting sounds
that scream my name
and my anguish
it's that punk rock n' roll
rotting my soul.

gaining ground inside
where no ground's held
holding onto something
it's that punk rock n' roll
rotting the soul.

from the inside, outside
its making its way
through the holes
that punk rock n' roll
rotted in the soul.

there's never a reason for a grudge,
especially when i was the one left in the mud,
stuck in the rain, freezing and shivering,
now sickened with depression and mistrust.
hardly catching any hardening of the spirit,
allowing the gruesome idea of solitude fill in,
and now it's quiet; the birds gave up their song.
i'm dreaming again, and it's lovely; there's hardly a reason for anyone to care here.
and there's the death of my spirit again as i collapse
behind the wall that you built for my support,
as my foundation; founded on morality and respect,
i'd fallen again and scraped another bit of my shell off.
back to the dream again, and again to the back of the dream; the real reason we're displayed this imagery.
ah.

another restless night
laying there; trapped.
her head on my arm
my head in the ceiling,
accepting this; dreading this,
she catches herself dreaming.
i crawl out of bed,
make the night longer
and think of what to think
as i think harder and harder.
then, out of silence,
her voice still ringing in my ear,
"i'm cold."
i stop thinking,
and warm her again.

we'd overslept too long
and now the day's half done
as we dreamed about nothing
we'd missed out on the fun
that we were to have
while there's light from the sun.

the colors have faded
so it's time for a new coat
to cover the disgust,
the angst, how i'd gloat
about the ideas i'd had
when they weren't mine
and how i made them
into something out of time
out of mind
and into this sectionalized analysis on what was, is, and has yet to be.

i never believe what you say
because you’ve convinced me
that everything i spew has been
lies, deceit, ****, self-hatred, abusive.

i never ask you questions
because you’re not there, still,
to even answer the phone when i need
somebody, anybody, are you listening?

i never look too closely anymore
at the things you have to show me
because you never wanted me to see
as much as you wanted me blinded

to everything you really are,
and that i could be.

wondering if i'd done enough to keep myself happy,
this constant pursuance of happiness always just out of my grasp,
i'm still reaching and searching for something.
i want to be so much more than i am,
and i'm not sure being anymore will bring me the peace i want
so desperately, nor will it fulfill, i'm sure.

we tell our children
never to tell a lie
but that's all we feed them
and they'll be fed til they die
because the truth's too painful
when you find it in yourself
and even harder to put down
when it's come down off a shelf
in a bottle
in a lighter
in a song
in the freezer
under the steps
under your feet
under your head
and in your sleep.
you'll find it anywhere, once you admit that it's what's killing you.

she couldn't **** him when he asked her to
so she asked her daddy if he would.
she couldn't tell him, ever, the truth,
but she knew her daddy could.
she'd seen the way he'd looked at her,
and knew her daddy saw his love.
she knew he would be dead soon,
cuz her daddy took off the gloves.
she watched him bleeding in the street,
as her daddy beat his head in.
and she knew there would be a good reason
why her daddy had to **** him.

broken glass,
broken hearts
broken promises
but most of all,
the real thing that sticks out
is the broken ways that this came to break.

broken glasses
broken windows
broken bottles
but most of all,
the last thing on my mind
is the broken idea of love you'd left me with.

she whispered it to me
and i woke up immediately.
i knew what i'd heard
and i'd practiced it remedially.
she had a hold instantaneously
and i knew i couldn't break it.
there was no doubt left
and i knew i couldn't shake it.
i held her that night
and i didn't wanna let when the sun arose;
i knew i had to eventually
and i'd have had to know
that i couldn't let it go.

you said what you said and there's no taking it back,
think before you speak and even harder when you act.
there's nothing you can do now, the damage is done.
i hope that you're watching all this and having your fun
as you ****** with my head.
like so many before.
you ****** with my heart.
and the stitches are tore,
apart and now i'm bleeding.
you've killed me; to the core.
*death again.

your voice is still echoing in my head
and through my walls; entire blocks
drearily sinking deeper into the night
as i shrink into my corner of this block.
i swear i heard you singing that song
that you'd been whispering in my ears
and that i've been humming; i don't know
the words to the music constantly in my head.


                                                           i know the words to the music
                                                          that i'm making up as i go along.
                                                              they're simple in their meter
                                                         and matrices that they're filling in.


i'd written you a love song, but you're gone
and when i see you, i don't think the words
that i'd spoken to you over the phone;
i think in the stylings of love that'd been forgotten.
it seems like they linger through to the dawn,
and they hang on every whisper that i still hear.
they hang around, never quite leaving here.
they're hanging on, and they're still so clear.

his arms
his legs
his oblong torso
made me think again about the way he'd been slenderizing me all over
his face
not his face
not any face
nothing there, just an empty canvas for you to fill in how you'd like
just like me
slenderized
tenderized
and coming after you; whether you'd like it or not, i'm a lender-man.

pass on by
through me
and get an idea
of what i'm about
before you talk about
who or what i am
and what you think;
you haven't thought
just yet it seems
because we're still
ill-acquainted
in this ill-fated
dramadey.

another brittle mind
shed in light;
enlightened after such severity,
and stable enough to think
through the idea that i'm lost.

there's enough here
that we all can find enough ways;
that there's a reason to think
still, although we're conditioned
by ourselves; myself.

projection, direction, interjection.

i'm sorry if i was never subtle enough
          in letting you know you
       you don't cross my mind anymore.
     you're stuck on one side,
       and i've moved up the other,
     never looking back to see if you saw.

the road stretches on, and you've got a choice:
either you sit on the side you're on, waiting,
or move on down, with the occasional thumb
stuck for the traffic to see you're going
the way they're headed.  it's nice to get a ride.

it amazes me how you're so contained
in the little box; ******* where you reign
over the kingdom within your head
never realizing you're bound to be dead
one day sooner than later; we all have to
but these are all thing i thought you knew.

so i guess i'll spoon feed you this abstract thought
because of the lackadaisical ideas, you rot
in the putrid ways of pointing out my faults
when yours are the one that've brought you to halt
before the gates where you must truly invade
and these are no places for you to persuade
me
of my own flaws.

i've made a list
and i know them well.

shirtless
raining
cold.

ambitious
amplified
cozy.

the rain felt so clear as it streaked down my back, and i felt so clairvoyant in that moment walking down the alley; waiting for the rain to really pick up, i walked slower

traditional
noted
calm.

personal
known
clear.

street signs and side-winding snakes drew a map
to the end of all times and time stood still;
there was no way of getting that image out of my head,
especially after i'd studied the difference in the maps
that they drew, and the one i'd been given.

graced by the simplest idea that we're heading somewhere,
we stop and relax; let the time flow through us.
there's enough left here for all to just enjoy it,
but we're not enjoying as much as we should for ourselves;
there's greed in their eyes, don't you see it?

can you see the stars in their heads, shining
brightly enough for us to have a beautiful path at night,
and once the sun has risen, their dreams will die.
replaced with the harsh realities that this is where we're at,
and soon, we'll be nowhere faster than the last time we headed out.

"follow the signs, they're hard to miss," he told me,
and i believed i could read them all; indifference
catches me off-guard and throws me to the next one.
'wrong exit,' i thought. 'we're gonna have to turn around.'
time to backtrack again; always caught out here naked.