i’ve given up on days that begin in late afternoon,
skipped breakfast and lunch,
days that fade slowly and end with
****** cut-out holes in eyelids because
the second i close them and it all goes black,
every moment with you comes back
played on fast-forward, the memories moving so quickly
that both our faces are blurred
and it feels like everything i’ve ever felt for you
is overflowing the tub, filling the washroom with
suds that take forever to melt

i’ve given up on those days.

i’ve traded them for ones that begin with
sunrises instead of sunsets,
days that are spent falling forward
instead of trying to chase the past, and i don’t
look back and see something broken, or
something that was better off left unopened

i look back and see our bodies so close together
that you can’t tell where yours begins and mine ends,
i see my heart that grew twenty-three times its size,
i see you and me wrapped up in something that
i didn’t know existed outside of blurry 35 mm
and overdue and falling-apart library books
that sit on the nightstands of middle-aged women
who are bored with their lives

and i’m just so happy i got to love you at all.

but i’ve folded up all the days spent with you
and taped them in the messy pages of my journal
and now i’m running into the sun,
running away from every lie that’s trying to
wedge its way in between my ribs,
running in the opposite direction of words like "regret"
and any feeling that insists that none of it was worth it

because all of it was worth it.

every moment we were together pumps
through my veins, and it will always be there;
it will be there when we’ve both graduated,
when you move out west,
when you kiss your family goodnight,
when you sit in your backyard with tears
in your eyes because you’ve lived a life
you are proud of

it will be there when i finally make it to new york city,
when i kiss someone who isn’t you,
when i find the answers you inspired me to search for,
when i sit on my rooftop with tears on my cheeks
because i’ve lived a life fuller than i could’ve ever imagined

and you and i will live these lives apart,
we’ll move on and forget what it felt like
to wake up beside one another;
we’ll find what we’re looking for elsewhere
and we’ll understand why this all had to happen the way that it did

but what we had will always exist somewhere,
in rotting apples and old mail and unplayed mix CDs,
in mosaics that line the city streets, in sirens and
red and white flashing lights that shine through
your window while you are asleep

you and i were magic,
we always will be.

Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
Dry bones of Moses painted on my button down shirt screaming,
“to be or not to be” is not an English word.
In the daze of the thoughts of Neurology, I saw a man kick a bucket full of Starbucks giftcards down the avenue street. He screamed in pain as he watched the bucket tumble and roll down the street, blessing every Bohemian with a slight cold.

Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
I dreamt about a land before man where the Oxygen that sprang from the pores of flowers
sang a sweet death. Where dishwashers are saints, for afterall, man will not be if not for food.
Where books are written not to be read, but for the sake of Orange trees that will grow in the future.
I once wore a poker face to a funeral and laughed at the man in the casket because the souls he had underneath him were two left feet.

*We all once had naked pictures of God on our nightstands but lost it after Einstein  
Lost the fried chicken war of 1812 to Isaac Newton.

Darkness peaks beneath your mask,

Eternal lying smothers your task,

To be accepted by commercial greed,

It stimulates your mindful need,

Of personal gain and broken dreams,

Place your brain inside a guillotine,

To feed your craving for nicotine,

Among the thoughts in your caved-in mind,

The wind tickles your troubles in and out of time,

Your plastic-eyed dolls and cruel songs,

Is a portrait of your desire to walk along,

All the beauties in the magazines,

Drench your face in gasoline,

Ignite a match to force humility,

Upon your flesh and your stupidity,

You used to poke fun at the lifeless on the streets,

Now, take a bite of that forbidden bittersweet,

Juices of past one nightstands and lost lovers,

Enjoy what is less taken to be discovered.

There is an insatiable claim to your brain,

Alongside your coffee, pills, and bags of *******,

Wicked ****, sour *****, and dedicated fake,

It is your bones against stones karma will break.

Liar, cheater, deceptive soul eater,

Tis’ the future in the light of tomorrow’s eyes,

Where in Hell your soul shall eternal lie.

It gets... agonizing.
So, very agonizing, and she wonders through the days,
"will it ever end?"
Perhaps, maybe, the divinity of nature
struck down on the undeserving.
A mistake is not a lifetime
                            but a good portion of it
and deep down she knows she couldn't
but each day regrets her decisions
and rubs lamps on nightstands littered with lotto tickets.
To make matters worse, or better,
all around her are visions of joy,
                            happiness, love?
And by accepting her fate,
she embraces, and acknowledges,
that the deed was surely done,
and life in death.

Texas early night sky

nightstands
like deserted islands
next to rumpled bed

fake hibiscus in bloom
clipped onto curtains

favorite lip glosses
cradled in basket
on vanity sink

sparkly bead earrings  
displayed   in
see-through pockets
on stuffed closet door

silken blouse draped
on spare chair
awaiting an outing

candy wind  hibiscus
sways in the breeze
a playground for lizards

my face
when I realize
you are looking at me
handsome man

When did I become a ******
I lost my virginity somewhere in between,
Random one nightstands...
And drunken ******
Virginity lost so long ago
Can't even remember why I lost it for
Now I find myself on the delivering end
Of some woman who tommorrow,
I won't even be remembering
I don't want to be misleading
I actually have feelings for these women
But it seems to get ******* at the end of each meeting
Than they just become another notch on my belt,
Which I guess is good
Because it seem like the more notches I get
Seem to prove my manhood
When did I become a ******
Maybe it was in the 8th grade,
When I got addicted to ****
Or when I got to college,
And it became so easy to get a drunk female,
To my dorm
When did I become a ******
When did *** become an addiction
Maybe in high school when all the dudes would brag,
About females they than hit
And I just got tired of listening
So having *** became a mission
When did I become a ******
I guess somewhere in between,
Losing my virginity with my first love
And the women I slept with last night,
Just because
When did I become a ******???

But my love
You deserve to be so much more than
Another one of my mistakes
That is not what you were made of

You, my dear
You are the final destination
Utopia
After I broke myself
On unhealthy relationships
And one-nightstands
And all that is left of me
Is my purest self
I will arrive
Ready to be loved by you
Ready to love you too

Hello Mom, I'm lost here in IKEA
It's been fun but I may never see you again
They say the arrows point the way
but they've been pointing the way for days
Swedish Meatballs, the only saving grace there is

In the linen section, I've been circling for hours
Waiting for landing instructions from the tower
As big as this place there has to be a runway
In a fog, quickly running  out of power

At a later date, I finally make my way
At the seventh gate, I see Dante wave
As he's pouring over plans assembling a pair of white nightstands
I'll come back and check on him in a few days

In housewares, there are too many cooks in the kitchen
I look around and see something here is missing
The main ingredient, food...still waiting for those meatballs dude
In that special sauce that does more for a man than just glisten

I should have known the way the front door ****** me in
I'd never see my family and friends again
As I wander through the halls of prefab furniture at low cost
My days of sanity are quickly drawing to an end
And even with IKEA's plans, I'll never be put back together again

omens
crow january's
car wreck
silhouette
cigarette flick
wrist wrung
whiplash
alchemy
astrology
so much language
spooled in bed
a crumpled version of yr head
pill bottles halo nightstands
hands turn fist fight
dry wall patched
concussion
repeat
headache
repeat
release
kiss
glass
lip
mirror
mean it
this time

You know what sounds nicest?
In your bed lying covers half drawn.
Afternoon bath just as I'm waking up.
Your notes upon nightstands and mirrors.

I hope you understand that I'd do
unspeakable deeds and make deals to
realize this vision --

but I'm only human,
you lecher

I'm not the one distributing kisses
I'm not the one love has found you
in paper and ribbon
I'm a companion for us
lonely ones, called suckers
I'm a ******.