she said
but we never
met again.

sometimes i wonder
how many people
I’ve talked to for the last time.

sometimes I wonder
how many people
I’ve hurt and how many
I have yet to hurt.

sometimes I wonder
how many times I’ve passed
the person I’ll marry.

sometimes I wonder
which of the people I love
will die first.

sometimes I wonder
when I’ll die
and if that will finally
make me happy.

it's hard to get out of bed
these days,
either the whisky is too strong
or the confidence too weak.

got up
shaved
ate a healthy breakfast
brushed my teeth
everything went so well
I almost didn't drink my morning beer.
almost.

at the restaurant,
sweetest girl
she's been through
most things like me.
downing red wine
with a beam.

then she enters
looks my way
I get cold and cagey
new girl looks worried.
I grab my ***** and
start chugging the wine.
I ended up
******* myself to sleep.

How I miss those days
people going in and out my flat
as if it was a train station
or perhaps even
an airport.

People would enter and leave
at their leisure
talking to me
smoking with me
******* me
those days went by
rather quickly.
The stream of folks
would never end
and my door
would never stop swinging.

These days I just sit around
sip some cheap boxed wine
and lament "The View" on TV.
The only words I say
are caused by pain
or alcohol.

A sound of a near silent knock
then burst hinges
they wanted me to pay
for all the coke.
They brought their crowbars
and they wouldn't stop swinging.

I promised mum I'd give
her my old baby photos back
once I was done.

Alcoholism took her
before I could ever
keep my promise.

sometimes i wonder
how many people
I've talked to for the last time.

sometimes I wonder
how many people
I've hurt and how many
I have yet to hurt.

sometimes I wonder
how many times I've passed
the person I'll marry.

sometimes I wonder
which of the people I love
will die first.

sometimes I wonder
when I'll die
and if I'll finally
he happy

now, kid, I know I haven't been the best
man to guide you through life
I've tried my best
succeeded
and failed
but I've tried my best.

I loved you
I miss you
it's been almost a year
I hate the gap
that you left behind.

You were so amazing
always nice
kind
giving
funny
the best thing I ever
brought to this world
you always lived for yourself
and yourself alone
but you helped others
to live their lives to the fullest.

I just took some sleeping pills
not too much, just enough to see you
I miss you so much.
But I wonder,
who'll take care
of your mum and sister
when I'm gone.

you graduated
but didn't move
didn't work
didn't study
just stayed behind
in your hometown.

that's the hardest part about
staying
when everyone else left
the world doesn't care
what you think
or how you feel.

you're in the queue
at the store
getting flashbacks
then you see a youngster
paying at the other till
it's like seeing yourself
from two years ago
and all of a sudden,
you miss everyone.

.

i used to love the smell of her
on my clothes
i used to enjoy her hair
pacing in front of my eyes.

but
everything collapsed
worlds colliding
people make mistakes
even the people we love.

now i'm more in love
with our memories
than with her.
but in the end
we all become the person
we swore we'd never be.

the world is our enmityville
don't bother trying to catch that bus,
the driver won't stop for you.

hissing telephone wires
noisy tea kettles
the lonely ******
you hear through your wall.

people bringing you down
people getting the best of you
funny how saints are born
once they've run out of sins.

this is enmityville
where neither life nor death
seems appealing.

if altitude
is determined by
attitude
I'm in my grave.

he jumped off Golden Gate
they never saw him again.

cracked his skull on the pavement
the boys kept kicking.

blood spilled everywhere
suicide note too soaked to read.

he arrived to the party in a Ford Escort
he left it in an ambulance.

the one. three words:

"I.

     love.

                you."






(we've lost touch)

every morning
betwixt and between
will they fill my place
with someone else
or am I given one more day?

go to school
I see my friends,
walking over to them
I know what they're thinking

there he comes again
such a loser
why do we bother?
**** him, I hate him
let's freeze him out

but when I get there
they're always smiles and chuckles
always cracking jokes
at the poor disabled kid
and I'm laughing with them.

i will always regret
the words I didn't say
more than the words
I did say.

the hardest part about not drinking
is how quickly that number of days
can be
ruined and
reset
just by cracking open
one beer.

the other girls didn't work
she would have
if she was still with us.

nine years old
such a beautiful girl
sparkly eyes
long, dark hair
and still haven't lost her
zest for life.

she gets tucked in at night
and is sung a lullaby
everything is quiet and happy
but only up until this point.

in the eye of the storm,
her covers are ripped off of her
her pajamas torn apart
her face is filled with
tears
sweat
fright.

****** in the dark
she sings him a lullaby
scarred for life
devastating
and who would have thought
it was her brother all along?

i kept our love
in the pocket
of my favourite coat
where it would be safe.
it stayed there
for days
just getting cozier
and more pleasant.

I didn't notice the gaping hole,
which only seemed to get bigger
as our love
poked at it all the time.
slowly falling apart
at the seams.

one day,
our love dropped into
the lining.
And I never wore
my favourite coat
again.

they didn't show me how to swim
still they will throw me
into the deep end.
what if I don't know how to swim?
what if I don't have a lifebuoy?
what if I sink?
what if I float?

story began in 1993
always outside,
always playing
whenever the sun was out
we were as well.

we played with marbles
we played hide and seek
hopscotch
and shadow tag
who could forget.

we would climb trees
grass stain our sneakers
and ruin our trousers
blow bubbles
and stick bubblegum
in the girls’ hair.

things were so simple
not a worry, not a care
now it’s apartments
love
work
career
taxes
responsibility,
I miss the old days.
I miss being a youngster.

she waits on the streets
ready to meet the one
walking up and down the avenues
hopefully to run into a pleasant man.
but they never are.
always *******
gross
crude
what money does to people.

every week
she gets her allowance
from the one she calls "daddy"
and most of it is wasted
on cheap beer and
cigarettes.

as you read this
she's making dollars
in a squeaky bed
in a basement
and she's only fifteen.

are noises
and scribbles on a page
we assign meaning to
and
unfortunately
so much importance.

please,
don't worry
i have never been better.
got no job
no friends
lost my daughter at birth
lost the love of my life
but i'm walking around
in my pretty daze
trust me,
i am better
than ever.

back home
we talk past each other
and always about other people
in our circles.
we only care
about ourselves.

back home
we have a small garden
eight feet of space
nice and well-kept
shielding out the concrete reality.

back home
we smoke so much
we've forgotten the taste of fresh air.
we smoke until our rooms get blue
and our lungs black.

we smoke to **** time
and ourselves.

back home
not only smoke fills the air
shouts
shrieks
screams
and happy pop tunes
endlessly on the radio.

have a nice life
don’t let me stop you
you were always
full of life
everyone laughed
I wish it was contagious.

have a nice life
tell mom i loved her
tell dad i hated him
tell yourself you
were my everything.

have a nice life
try to
even though i couldn’t.
Hearts break
or turn to lead
in this mad world.

Los Angeles
Griffith Park,
June 2009,
we got out of our concrete cage
and into the untamed wild.

We tried to escape the amber streetlights
because they polluted the sky;
twinkling stars
winking aeroplanes and
startling skylines
covered in the midnight blue.
I walked with you,
in lockstep,
we avoided the cracks
in the pavement.

We found a quiet place,
just you and I,
the sky cleared
and I didn’t want to blow my cigarette palls
into the sky
as I feared
they would block your view.

A worn out girl
beaten daily
by her dad
brother
boyfriend
fiancée
husband.

All of them.

The weight of the world is on her shoulders.

Like any other day.

We flew to Las Vegas
and Atlantic City
a lot in our gambler years.
Walked down the Strip
or Borgata
bathed in city lights
pumped up on drinks.

Lester got snatched
for counting cards,
Derrick went away,
drunk driving,
we don’t care
we just keep drinking
and keep losing.

Practicing poker faces
at the table
makes it easier
to lie to our wives.

And we don’t talk about our kids
while at the tables
or in the bar.
College funds gambled away
or spent on prostitutes.
We know we’re
letting them down.

I am not a person
just a fool
worthless
spineless
mindless
unhappy
just a string of events
and flings.

My dad said, “Power through”
my mom said, “Pour me another”.
Both said, “You’re our everything”.
I started out with nothing
and in the end
it will still be
my everything.

You stood there
wearing your hurricane dress.
And all that swept across my mind
was how the gale would clash our bodies together.

After-party, the people were firmly rooted
bored, long-winded.
You were in the bathroom stall on the second floor
blowing me away,
blowing me in gusts
and launching a chilling breeze
down my spine.

Years later, the sweet tunes
clanged by the wind chimes
reminded me of you
wearing your hurricane dress
leaving me breathless.
Before you stormed off.

We were sitting in Central Park,
the place we met.
I wore this smile and
you this scowl.
It wasn’t an easy time for you, I know
I could tell by your fickle eyes and that vein popping on your forehead.
But everyone goes through tough times.

As you talked to me, I tuned out.
The butterflies were doing somersaults
in my stomach
as the girls did cartwheels
on the lawn.

I don’t remember much from that day.
I remember not seeing you again,
or those girls again.
I remember buying cheap boxed wine
and chugging it all day,
just to mellow out
those butterflies.

life’s such a film
independent b movie
badly written
poorly edited
dialogue all too real.

starring me as the main character and
I am the producer
director
script writer
cameraman
and I plug it
to every Fallon out there.

and … scene
after his struggles,
the main character filters out
not in a blaze of glory
but noose in hand
rat poison and
Johnnie Walker on his breath.
He didn’t want to end up like his mom
but look at him now.