I was talkin’ to the night
And she said
Baby wait for tomorrow

I was listening to the night
And she said wait
Baby its almost tomorrow

Some girls get the clue
Some girls listen for you
In the distance
Between
Tonight
And tomorrow morning

I was talking to you about tonight,
That’s when I noticed
You weren’t there

“Things will be different tomorrow”
Are they?

I sure didn't write this much yesterday
or the day before that
or, when we were sleeping together
and, you listened to me

Ramble off what was written
About what we were going to do tomorrow
but i never wrote
About what happened
until today

This girl
With more formal
creative writing
Experience
and
Education
gave me a few lessons tonight

One, don’t be so self indulgent
So this poem is already a joke

Two, don’t be too abstract
Well, Moon and the Stars to that!

Three, simplicity is always key
Well – this should be easy

Tonight, might
Just be the right night
To write

It depends on multiple factors:

What time is it – not too late not too early
Happy medium
How much I have drank – not too little not too much
When & Where it happened
Not too much early in the night and not too little later on
And what type of mood I am in
A medium happy mood works best

I have a memoir, seven unfinished poems
And so many wonderful women and moments
And an empty bed
And enough words that hold the potential
To fill the space

To retrace the lines
That draw the past night and week
And to undo and unload this mind
Accomplishing what I set out to seek
Creatively confused by rhymes
And those that I wish to speak

I am comfortable in knowing
Putting thought to keyboard
Will not fail me this evening
Putting cigar to lips
Searching for a lighter
This is a true story
And would mean more
If I said thought to typewriter

Why is this a good night to write?
Simple, I remembered a few things
From the walk home, before
Forgetting the rhyme schemes
Elaborating on a few ideas in my head
Before falling to sleep
Under the covers in my bed

Undercover my best work goes
Dancing naked in the street
To close for comfort
As I close in
on coming close to my dreams
Because sleep and accomplishment
Are two different things

I need a drug or a substance to be honest with me
Liquor keeps feeding me my own *******
The Mary Jane has me paranoid
Overthinking anything, and  acting overly lazy
The mushrooms keep leading me to the woods
I’m a big boy, and have real big business to do in the real world
Molly is a dumb *****, who I lost my love for
When techno died in ****** times ‘09
Mom, dad and dead friends would be ashamed, but *******
Might be calling my name – once again.
I don’t have “a problem” – I have **** to deal with and **** to do
However I chose to get through my days is still getting through
Is Honesty,
Just another substance
Or an honest remedy?

Sober, or hungover
One or the other
I’ll take a stab at writing
Something that’s too good
Not to know

And I’ve heard “I don’t know”
So
Many times
This past month
I fee like am starting to
You know,
Know

I know you have none of my answers
I know my questions have been spot on
I know my effort has been worthy
I know
As much as you do

You were my darlin’ Queen, the star of the show
Now you are someone elses princess
But you are still my Queen
The Queen of “ I don’t know”

Reconciliation
A leap of faith
Growth and Humility
Laughter and happiness

These are more than things I know
They are my unrewarded actions
Will my attraction
To you ever waver?
Will I ever return the favor?
Are we friends or does that even matter?
I wont ask these questions
Because I know the answer
And its not "no"
Homonym, not vernacular
Yes it is
You know?

Constantly
I take notes
And the things I wrote
Were never thoughtless
But more part of the process
Of falling in love
And bliss
Broken apart
Above this
Divided by horniness
Sure causes a mess
Breaking something is never clean
It seams
Pieces aren’t always puzzles
Things
Don’t always go back together
Things
That stick together aren’t always magnetic
Let it
Go to show
That watching from a distance
Is easier than to know

I want to feel you one last time
Suddenly I’m at the airport in line
Off to a smaller town while you sleep big in my bed
Your toes overhang the edge
The covers are covered in juices
That I said – would clean and I did
And cobes is dead
My head races off to familiar faces
As I try to get home because tasteless
Individuals of different races
Invite me into their homes but not their lives
And I strive for meaning on and island
My eyes land
On an early arrival
Greeted by a great wait where I go out in style
And mourn the death
Of the heaven I left
In a bed while I was still worth while