Still feel cold, even here
frozen by your long forgotten gaze
crave for the purity of a white centered star
with its boundless, awful blaze.
Bottle of sunblock, useless in the drawer
I want to burn all my skin off
I want to forget who I was before,
peel myself back and call myself yours.

No storms in Scottsdale, Arizona
smells like rough dirt and control
no wetness in my brand new persona
only this chaste stoicism, I extol.
At the mercy of a callous sun
stuck in the convenience store,
with the dollar pack gum
and neon aisles
waiting on someone's merciless son
put me out and call me mercantile.

Bright and unforgiving florescence
security camera nailed to the wall
here forever, herded by invisible presence
popped open, and losing my effervescence
always in stock, always on call.
Middle of nowhere
and still not lost at all
in the land of desperation
all there is to do is wait
holed up in some air conditioned haven
believing in the fiction of fate
something deep inside of me
is going rotten,
threatening to break.
I've gone past my best by date
put me out
out of my misery
tired of this mirage and it's bewitchery
let me into the wild
to fall to my own devices
no longer a fool for you
and all your sugar-sweet vices.

Trying to go back to the past
but I cannot find you there
cicadas and stagnant heat
dance heavy in the twilight air.
You've dropped out of college
I've grown out my hair
we both beg for some kind of change
life is not always fair.

I wonder if you know
how badly I want to save your soul
take you out in the April rain
let it soak into your bones, make yourself whole.
May springtime wash you clean.
You remember me when I was messy
and I was mean
living out of half finished daytime dreams.
Like a fallen boy who's skinned his knee
I'll care for you and you'll watch for me
carry me when I am weak and at my end
I can be your lover, your tender friend.

They say that time, cannot help but change
like the Earth, opens up to rain
maybe we'll grow old
before we put this away
until then,
at the window I stay.
Heavy at the persistent glass
back posted at half-mast
breathing into a trap
whispering to no one particular
I offer no persuasion
no plea and no temptation
only these fickle messages
written in the condensation.

I can feel myself going stale
paralyzing fear of failure
flooding out my blazing trail.
Face growing paler
forgetting to go outside
still and forsaken, lonely sailor
long gone with the tide.
My teachers used to say I am gifted
where is my prize?
Now I aspire for nothing
and it is no surprise.

Cutting down that giant fig tree
if I can't have it all
I will be nothing
wield my axe, wait for the fall
no one is bluffing.

and I want to know
how long can you stare at the sun
until you are blind?
How much do you give away
before you are considered kind?
I fear I am searching for something
I'm not sure I will ever find.