It’s the telemarketer’s day off
he often calls customer service on the weekends as a hobby
he feels like a loaded rifle when they ask
“what can I help you with today?”
a jitterbug with a contemplative stutter
the jilted staleness of his apartment is suddenly
a garden of words
images of violence appear while he rips a hangnail
loneliness is a grown man’s burden, he thinks
“I don’t want you to listen but I do need to be heard”
he waits for silence and he’s spoon fed this attention
“I work with people and yet I do not know people
my mind waters for intimacy not in the sensual term of the word but in the
way hands accidentally touch on a crowded train”
2,000 miles away there is a woman with a headset
a chronic consoler at the tender age of 19
her hand trembles as she hears this man speak
she’s reminded of her grandmother dying in her tiny home
back in Kansas City, desolate like her location

We lead such a fragile existence
Between the heartache
And the joy.
We spend so much time,
Trying to walk the fine line
Between bending and breaking
The fragility of existence,
And trying to lie our way through
Our life just to make it
A little easier.
But in reality,
When all is said and done
We hurt ourselves
With all the things unsaid
And all the feelings
That are hidden.
It is the contemplation
Of our existence
That makes us question,
Is this worth it?

A million children that could've been
A million children you've never seen
They're drying up in the towels
Rotting in the sewers
I've sprayed them on the walls
Wiped them on the curtains
They've gone down the willing throat
And in the public toilets they float
They are all racing
In the sewers
On the toilet seats
and the dripping walls
In a *****
On a lonely shore
They're racing  
Millions of them
Because they're programmed to race
To be THE one
To be first
To exist
And they're all dead
My million children that never were

You are my sailor,
Sailing sea to sea
To eventually see me.
Creating waves in my lungs
Till I am gasping for air
You save me,
Time and time again
From the rough and shallow waters I face
With you, life is an endless blue ocean
And you are my sailor.
Together, conquering the waters
With a smile on our face

I miss the old winters
That warmed up my soul
As a kid, I'd drink cocoa
Coming in from the cold

I could sit by the fire
Mittens drying nearby
I'd watch my brothers sleep
As I made up lullabies

Papa would tell us stories
Like how his cat once flew to mars,
Or how he stole our grand mama
When fighting in a bar

I'd then make up an adventure
Of when we would be all grown
How we'd be the best of friends
And together we'd share a big home

I miss those old heartfelt winters
That held nothing but beautiful glow
But the fire has long turned to ashes
And the house is empty and cold

I place my gloves on the table
Boiling a warm *** of tea
The radio blasts to cover the sound
Of the silence that always haunts me