Freakishly tall trees on both sides, all ceasing and dying
People's din, cars, trucks, motorbikes,
youse all barefooted, watch the pikes
Tall handsome man, all cool, without trying.

He never pussyfoots, he only calms you with his eyes
****, he sets the gardens ablaze
all barefooted, all in a daze
flickering bulblights, everything still dies.

Silky crinkly smooth voice like sonnets
Look, concrete cages hits concrete
bones crack to the beat
they split him open with onyx.

Always a joy, always a delight
sauntering down the avenue
smoky homes and billboard hue
boys drink joke ****, girls drunk ***** fright.

the way she cracked her fingers
and licked her lips
sent shivers down my spine.

oh, darling
pucker up
and colour code those lips.
burgundy means stop
crimson means ****.

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.

Outside, heading eastbound
It's getting warmer outside,
sun is shining, sky is blue.
It all feels right.

Out for a few nights,
music is so loud
colours going everywhere; blue, green, yellow, red, purple;
kaleidoscopic
I wanna dive in
and swim
I miss the tropics.

Pain all around
shooting following shooting
I'll work it out
distant chatters just
filter out into choruses
and phase out.

Ringing in my ears
nose bleeding
memories fading
no more colours
just black

**...

all i want out of my life
is tons of adventures
to look back on.

all i do with my life
is sit in class after class
office after office
with nothing to look back on.

mom told me
to get out of bed
every morning
before school.

at school,
the bully shoved me aside
and told me to get out
of his way.

when I got older
my parents split up
and my dad told me
to get out of his house.

later,
home from party,
cop pulled me over
told me to get out
of my car
and into a cell.

girlfriend of five years,
we even had a kid together,
told me to get out of her life
and I never saw her again.

don't you ever feel like
the world is trying
to send you a message?

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

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.

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.

nobody can help
but everybody understands.

Doing escapades
is just not enough for you.
You make sequels
to previous mistakes
and just like films,
they get worse and worse.

sometimes
silence speaks louder
than words could ever do.

Silence teaches you how
to be afraid of your thoughts
to love the voices
to hear static
to enjoy the crackle
to be sinister.

Silence teaches you how
to welcome pain
to inflict pain
to be perverse
to poison.

Silence teaches you how
to lose yourself
to feel the snaps
and the booms
to harm
and to tap and shiver.

Take that girl back
to her house;
through dark tunnels and
crooked path systems.
Take her back.

She kisses you
a reward for her knight;
silky cashmere satin challis kiss.
Knocks you out.

Peel the kiss off your lips
fold it
and store it in your heart;
and even though it feels like
your heart grew three sizes,
there's not enough room for it.
Just hold it.

Walk through the drizzle
back home, not paying attention to
the ***** on your shoes
the lack of cigarettes
the upcoming exam
(you're *******).

Unravel the kiss when you're old
sitting in your rocking chair;
do you still taste the cherry lip balm?

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?

Keen little neons
playfully jump around, colliding with her mind
and she sits there, legs crossed, her ***** aroused,
but it gets doused as the Wall Street pinstripe type walks by
she utters a sigh, looks at the sky, the ending's nigh, and it's night.

Skyline looks pretty
beams and lighted apartment block kitchens and real pop-up ads,
them keen little neons,
her eyes flicker like those hanging lights in horror films,
perpetuate fear, the skeletons are in the clear.
I told you, you schmuck, the end is near.

the sound of a baby crying and
a mother sulking.

the sound of a car screeching and
bones breaking.

the sound of moans of delight and
a scream of pain in the night.

boring how life always uses
the same soundtrack.

you're like the nettles
in my backyard
like the sting
of a wasp
you're like the bayonet
at the end of a rifle
using my own weapon
against me.

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.

My mind is playing tricks
flipping into reverse,
all is static,
I'm frantically sadistic.

I'm on the grind,
****'s grinding my gears,
you say my name like it's sounds I made up
even in our sheets we're ****** up.

The rat race isn't a race,
but a triathlon
we aren't athletes,
we're just dragging our feet along,
no ping to life's pong,
this is a poem
'cause I can't write songs.

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.

looking around
in the room
she flashes her teeth
and winks to the crowd.

the pursuit of happiness
is a rough one
every boulevard covered
with pastel-shaded
houses.

nothing is real
no nature, no oceans, no sky
everything is just
tinsel smiles and plastic kisses,
just ikea boxes pinned to the walls
for decoration.

Hanging in space,
suspended in nothingness,
tiny little cubes
with rounded edges
glistening brightly
like bulbs;
they're moments.

Some moments are nice
and some worth writing about.
The best moments **** time;
Earth spins slowly,
your bones tilt
your guts twist
and then it's over
like blown-out candles
just like that.

The tiny little cubes are snapshots,
they capture the moments
and they won't shake them after they come out.
The cubes are collages
of your entire life
of the feelings you've felt
the experiences you've had
and your love wrote a cute note at the bottom of the picture.

The tiny little cubes go unnoticed
by most people
but you.
However,
the moments still exist
as long as there are someone
to remember them.

trapped in loops
reliving the same days
over and over.

the same sights
the same thoughts
the same actions
round and round
we go.

if we get through
today
our dreams will
definitely come true
tomorrow.

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.

she had a voice
like a lullaby.
no one could tell me
to get out
after so many years
after so many struggles
after so many fights
after so much love
in such a beautiful way.

Hello,
Welcome to the other side;
lust over love
we struck a dead note and
we're capsizing your boat.

You're lost
coughing and wheezing;
shivering and freezing
come through the smoke
and to the other side.

School's out
forever;
it's all pills and heels
blurring faces and nightlife lights.

Great time
lots of wine
you left, I'm in bed.
Butterflies cartwheeling
and then I crumble.

Making memories
family members
people I enjoy
I smile and feel warm
and then I crumble.

Night out
having fun
cool summer night
just a speck of amber street light
and then I crumble.

Long life
loving wife
sitting in my rocking chair
still got all of my hair
and then I crumble.

They're wrapped around his ankles,
they're pulling him down--
so much time, so much time wasted
they're dragging him down.

All the battles he's fought
cutting losses, cutting himself--
he feels the wires' pull
they'er dragging him down.

All he's invested in,
all he's spent--
all he's put into it
it all falls apart.

He feeæs the wires' pull.

wistful
rhymes
with wishful.
both are
central
in my life.

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

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

today i wrote a masterpiece
but for a status update on Facebook.

salty
soft
laughter
curves
broken bed frame.

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.