your words make me cold
and it's because i'm writing about you
that things seem so deep

can maybe we can restart
but i'm loving the new scars
you left on the outside of my skin
fit like a glove on my hand

and deep inside i want to get a tattoo
with a phrase or two that you've said
to maybe make myself sober

blue diamond eyes
hand reaching back at me
out in the feels-tingle-fields

country music isn't like country
these days
murica isn't quite the same as she was either

happy **** day, **** me
**** you, humpback **** front
don't stop, follow dotted lines
until you find the little treasure spot
get a little wierd with love
get a little wierd with me

you aren't safe out there, kiddo
just stick with me, too much
talk in the office about us
make out behind a filing cabinet
stuck on the phone all day telling
everybody we're going
to be alright, happy hunting

if you think you're beautiful
i don't want to win that lottery
take it all:
the baby,
eyes
and mirror
they all have
impurity and you eat hearts
like a delicacy

while i'm alone
at my house searching for my
glasses i cast away
because i couldn't
look at you any longer

get it away from me
empty it out my eyes
i'm not brave enough
to scoop these orbs
out of their sockets
empty it out
let them harden
into rocks
the crumble like sand

got a condo in manhattan
but it's empty unless i want to be
cold in the winter
and alone; comfortable

used to call an old flame up around that
area and just vibe
no words, pure concentration on
the movements of our energies

and how they connect to the stars
above or maybe we were just high
out of our minds and being warm
next to each other watching the rain

was something we both could take
home with nostalgic feelings
silence so comforting and numbing

midriff cut from the universe
and diamond rings look good on her
every finger except the i'm-married-one
perky ears and silk smooth skin

adept and endearing accent
even when she's mad at me
and the way her shoulder blades curve
she's good at math and ***;

things i like more than the usual
triple threat, face, ****, breast
personality of an office chair.

i'm eating glass shards
and complaining about
the way my gums bleed
one day i'm gonna turn
inside out and become some
other body or somebody else

starting with the dentures first
and the three thousand dollar
surgery that you flew out to florida
to get won't mean a thing
because i'm somebody new
not a living embarrassment

Each day,
I count the highway signs
as I pass by,
hoping to follow them all
and tattoo them on my skin
with the dust of my tires.

Each day,
I drive the same route to work
and then home,
wishing,
just once,
my heart would go off-road.

Each night,
I mournfully regale the moon
with tales
of journeys great men traveled,
trips brave women blazed,
and my own bland,
listless meanderings between
work
and then home.

Each night,
the Moon beckons me
to chase the horizon
with open arms,
calls vehemently
for the chained thing
beating in my breast
to fly headfirst
into the Unknown.

One night
I will listen.

and i swear i'll be your best time of your life
until somebody eclipses me in every capacity
the sunrise hasn't happened yet and there's still bridges
to burn, the oversized teddybear you got me from
the fair of those overpriced games lined up under the bright
farris wheel lights that shine with nostalgia everytime
i think about them again, crashing on your couch
and waking up in the morning to the smell of breakfast
but you have disappeared and it will be tragic, bones
hurt when you break them but you haven't broke mine yet