tonight's jigsaw puzzle is a bunch of little white lies
lying in little strange shapes
their edges give me a deep sweat, no matter how near or far
from home I happen to be
fictional fragments like messages in a bottle,
pleading mercy with human nature and other curses

-c.j.

the tower holds no princess, only water,
the life of these parts- without it, they'd drop dead
blues and greys of the skies don't interrupt the inner waves
they know they must only hover

-c.j.

new york, 1940
standing in the train station
abuzz with news of other towns and cities
all concerning the day at hand, far away from yesterday
the past puts on a vanishing act, the pieces become
"the apparition of these faces in the crowd;
petals on a wet black bough"
we shiver because we are out of our minds,
touching ghost after ghost, tickets in trembling hand

-c.j.

upon our arrival the holy assume we're evil
friends mistake us for enemies
but we cannot condemn them,
the flowers look like dead drums, songs sound like sirens
no hero nor heroine could save us
there is no death better than this

-c.j.

it's monday afternoon, my least favourite time
machine poetry appears borderline insane, and
I get this fear for my identity, this fear that,
when it's over,
I'll realise it was really nothing

-c.j.

my friend was in love with a boy who put a shotgun to his head
and pulled the trigger and broke her heart
at his funeral someone said the reason why, the real thing that caused him to do this, could never be known, we'd just have to wait for the morning sun
his speech was bitter and I tasted lemon
the world may believe that the truth is buried, too,
but I believe it's waiting there to be found by people who care about the reason why, the real thing
because it is not a passing fancy; it is not a myth

-c.j.

I used to know a boy who would mumble the answers
in science class when the teacher talked about outerspace
the rest of us were mind over matter, paper airplanes in our heads, but we'd say we listen- we do
parties later in high school, he was never at
he moved a couple hours west, and as I sit on the couch watching my peers dancing, their steps lusting
love for physics and chemistry and the knowledge in between came to mind, the love the boy had for them
I wonder if he could tell me or show me
anything interesting, anything of worth,
anything unlike the empty chatter and exhausted gossip currently around me
I should have listened harder when he would mumble

-c.j.