all these phone calls are pulsing in my head
i see halos every time I blink
a memory of you, so painful it brings me to my knees
they ask for so many things I don't know
my mouth is dry, coughing up 'I don't know, I don't know'
all the stories I want to hear and I can't find the books
limited edition is a life not cloned
mint conditioned is a life not lived
out of commission is a life not told
but im counting up all these pieces, shiny and tarnished to piece together stories
mysteries, i hope lead to my sanity
but all these stories are fantasies written from insanity

that doesn't feel right either,
let's try this lens on for a change
endless lines to wrap my mind to try and find a peace of mind

I close my eyes when I'm driving until I hear you screaming
You're eternally dreaming and you borrowed my serenity
Nightmares that terrify me, but I hope you're resting peacefully
I've been scratching at a dictionary looking for the words to manifest my grieving
but my feelings are bleeding and fleeing
you'd shake your head if you could only see me

the soul
thirst for
it's
that
daily bread
which cometh
to the
deepest well
i said

i can't believe I lost you,
in a selfish-foolish way.
I thought I needed the pills,
I thought I needed the line,
but what I truly needed
was your eyes.
they looked at me with such tenderness,
a love so deep it's never ending.
I needed your arms,
that held my fingers to stop prying open my skin.
I wish I knew myself better at the time I had you.
because
I ended it all because I thought I
already had
it all.
**** me to hell for my ****** choices.
I hope one day you'll show that sparkle in your eye to another...
even as I type these words I can't get myself to truly want that.
I lost the one thing I needed to keep me alive.
and so now, my readers,
this is goodbye.

I see you at the open mic
we smile through mocha haze,
almond eyes bring the butterflies
out of the cocoon I had built for them.

We collide at the milkmen show
dead on drugs and the city,
my glasses fall off and I see you blurred
punk beats bringing the butterflies back.

I sit down we meet by the beach
drunk, for we are the liquor.
In love with the blue sky ocean bay and eyes
we grab the fish by the tail telling secrets by the sea
and here come the butterflies.

Back from the cocoon I had built for them

~

I always
    wondered
  could my
     dreams actually
         come true,
     then I met you
           and got
                my answer...

           *yes they can

But tell me,
oh wise one.
With all your
superior knowledge
and hidden powers.
Are you genuine?
Or are you playing make believe?

One thing I'm sure of is;
you're rather convinced
that you know my soul.
Better than I do.
That my dear Mystic is debatable.

Hey Mom?
I miss you.
Like a lot.
I miss dancing in the kitchen
To Madonna and Meatloaf.
I remember singing under the paper lantern
From the dollar store.
You bought it just for me.
I miss your strong, muscular embrace
And your scent of cloves and earl grey and earth.
I miss your long, silky hair
Just like mine.
I cut it all off last week.

Some days,
I just wish I could talk to you,
Talk to you about what hurts
But you hurt.
Just to remember hurts.
You're gone.

Hey Mom?
If you're still in there,
Beneath all the alcohol-infused blood
At the bottom of the cavity in your soul maybe,
Could you peek out from behind the curtain?
If only for a moment.
Could you give me some signal
Some kind of hope
That beneath it all
My mother is still here
On this earth
That she isn't lost to me forever.
That the woman who cherished me in her lap
Swaying me back and forth while I cried
From bad dreams or heartache
The woman who taped up my broken arm
And taught me how to make the best spaghetti
My mommy,
Who taught me to sing with beauty
And shared her green thumb secrets.
Please.
Please.
Don't be lost to me entirely.
Please come back.

Hey Mom?

Finally,
It happened.
Laying in bed
I can feel the emotional hangover coming on.
Words play on repeat in my head
Words like "one night stand,"
"Guilt," "Pain," "Solitude."
Over and over
Intermingled with the aftershocks
Of Mom's messages.

An emotional hangover.

Guess it's time to start
Picking up the ******* and broken things
Left over from the night before.