Countdown
5, 4, 3, 2, 1
We have ignition
In the writing of poem after poem

How many times have I circled this galaxy
In search of new ideas
Putting a space age drain on me
Adding another one to the list

Far out ideas from far out on the edge
To the ones grounded back home
How many times have I shook the Etch A Sketch
Only to give the **** another turn

I've reach the peak of loneliness
As I stare out my portal of emptiness
A space age dream, a space age mess
And me light years away, from life no less

As the light on my fuel gauge blinks critical
I'm left with not a lot more to say
It's hard not to be anymore cynical
As the light burns out and this ship fades away

I am trapped under layers of skin and bones.
I was brought into this world without my control.
And now I'm here, beating myself up about every little thing.
Trying to do wrong when right is screaming in the back of my mind.
I'm lost.
The world surrounds me and I feel like I don't belong anymore.
Maybe I never did.

The air thrums with the song of cicadas
And midnight wind playing through the trees.
Far above the corporeal, I stand
Peering over cliffs into the jet black seas.
Chaotic waters crash against the rocks
And rage and burn to sweep away the earth.
Tempted by the waves to jump, to fly,
I search the skies for some last sign of worth.
But when at last I reach the very edge-
A breath from tumbling off the precipice-
Soft sunlight spills over the horizon
To chase away the dark of the abyss.

I hope it is you know
That you are beautiful
There's an air about you
That sets off a certain glow
Like a painting hanging on display
A wonderful piece of art
I hope it is you know
How beautiful you are

I wanted you to know
So I jotted down this note
Out of all the wonders in this world
It's you that's beautiful
There is only one of you
After that God broke the mold
Because your so beautiful
I thought you should be told

You are beautiful
But you are not alone
All the women of the world
Share beauty as their home
Age is not a factor
From the young to the old
You are woman and you shine
For you are beautiful

He was an expert driver
in that sporty car slung so low.
He had a lead foot
when he was in a temper,
and she clung to the seat
in wild eyed fright.
He shook his fist
right in her face,
the ring grasped tight inside.
Once a symbol of love,
now tarnished and bitter.
Squealing around and around
the roundabout
he slung the ring
out the autos open top.
It sailed across the blue sky,
glittering brightly in a high arc,
landing extinguished in the grass.
A tiny *** of lost gold
at the end of their wrecked rainbow.
She saw everything so clearly now
it was as if she had acquired
preternatural vision.

Surviving on 500 calories a day
Thoughts that never go away
Please help me
Save me from my self

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it