I found you in the shadows of that smoke stained room.
Your hair was blue then, what a shock
against the grey of lakeshore avenue.
You were the vision of a sparrow's wing
Unhindered by the choking fumes.

You find me today, sun beams flaring out from a cruel arched brow.
What a picture i must have made then
In comparison to now.

Somewhere along the way our softness seemed to delegate itself,
job rotation of the pessimistic.
I still imagine the way naivity tasted on your lips-

Chocolate dipped dreams. I could hear your voice for hours on end,
And still call you again at 3am.
Now every tone is under the line
of a jaded cat's whiskers.

I am impassioned, every word
Enflates my spirit until
It is too big. You are taking
Out that thin steel pin
And looking for the best spot

You want to let that heavy sadness in.
I know it well, I remember the
Way it felt to love her. So warm,
but now the new day calls-

And you are clicking closed the shutters
While i am throwing on my runners.

If you won't come with me I'll go alone

You turn out the light
You say "go"

This city reveals itself as sunset-less.
I never thought I'd miss
the way death is soft
in the fist. The night
is loud, the windows shutter
in their frames.

I can't stop picturing her face.

An image of that glowing future
hangs, ominous, from the ceiling
fixture.
I see you there, gold plated principles
drawn on the arm's breadth,
Fiery tattooed stubbornness.

God, how I love you.

In your voice is the blue of dusk-
sun's rays still warm on pavement.
But it tastes like Buckley's in the mouth.
Dreams of your vibrant spirit fade to grey.
I caress a vision of another's face.

Mallard's squabble in the sifting waves
The picture splits in two
Every new moment, every adventure
All my definitions have
Something to do with you

Harsh is the human spirit, sharp winds along the winter's eve
Definition at its edges, wholey green with greed
Turn the vulnerable to capital, profit off their needs
What weakness lays in love, harrowed skin's adoring insolin
An addiction
A disease

I know what it means to give in.
I've already tasted the warm beer,
the sticky counters of a mid day bar on the breath of a tall man.
I've heard of sorrow's dependence and
I see what it turns us into.
Stigmatized and scented of sidewalk's old gum,
Invisible to the naked eye, the seeing eye, the breathing eye.
How the folds of skin come faster-
The voice- crackled like old tinfoil used again and again.
I can picture it all, I can see it in the mirror.
I admit to the fear of it. I admit to the dread I so detest in the faces of privileged youth;
Washed up, Burned out.
In high school a concept I easily accepted as being applied to myself.
But as my cycle of living and dying draws to its middle ground-
I feel it, the horror. The relief in the knowledge that I'm not like that. I'm not like that...
I carry my voice like church bells and feel myself grin at this mantra,
Even as i taste hesitation's sour malingering bite.

You are the clean feeling-
The relief of leaving all the dirt of the day behind in the water
As one rises from the tub

You are the clean feeling-
Of fresh, bare calves, sliding
Across a new set of sheets
In the early afternoon

You are the whole heart,
Of a friend who's affection is uncertain
Looking you in the face
"I know how you feel"

You are the surprising start
Of a day I thought
Would not go my way
But I'm just in time

How many psychologists does it take
To ***** in a lightbulb?
Only one, but
The lightbulb has to want to change

And god, do you make me
Want to change
What a pleasant surprise you are
Your mind is dazzling, A piece of art