Little Bit for Pixie

I lay down beside her,
Our breathing matches,
I close my eyes and let sleep take hold,
She wakes up beside me
Her hand running lightly through my hair
She prepares for her day,
We say our good byes,
There may not be a next time,
We hug hoping time will stop,
I lay down in my bed
She lays in hers
Tonight we dream of our little bit we shared

When there's a big kiss at the end of the movie
I find myself trying to hide that really huge smile.
I can only imagine us on that very first day
When the guy and girl meet in some really set up, non reality, fairy tale kind of way.
Because lets face it.
Not many people get their happy ending
Or perfect beginning.
But most people experience the ****** up crap in between.

I can't listen to my radio anymore because every song they play
Reminds me of something about you.
Your eyes, lips, chest, pants, personality.
The way you lose track of how many glasses of wine you have when you play guitar.
And the way your eyes get lost deep inside of you when you tell a story.
Like you're re living everything about that moment.

And I guess I'm doing that now.
Losing myself in the flashbacks of you.
Losing myself in daydreams about you.

Off                   comes my slip, socks, sanity and an echo
Goes                 up my spine.  
The                   men
Film                  my sinking heart  
And                  dive into the  
Filth                  plastered against my mind without a thought  
Of                      what moments define me.
That                  girl who used to wear a  
Shirt                  embroidered with flowers and had a mother  
Making             her a meal with love is now working the  
Room               with what's left of her.
For                    -ward motion depicts nothing
More                 than bones and memories never cherished.

I.
You told me you still had
Those roles of film,
Undeveloped.
The ones that you took of me
In the summer.

II.
I wonder
If you will ever see me again
As I used to be.

III.
I wish you had a darkroom
For my soul;
For all you've ever seen
Have been scratched
Negatives.

IV.
I miss looking at your features
Through viewfinders.

V.**
You were the whole world
Inside a tiny glass frame.

The Things I Wish I Could Be

I wish I could be
one of all instruments;

the singer whose voice
transforms his audience into a choir;

the writer who drops his reader's guard
making a beautiful decimation of every self-made fantasy;

the actor ripe with nominations
whose prestigious Oscar breaks him open before the world;

the photographer who captures moments worth infinite words
while instilling that perfect piercing silence;

the painter of elegant simplicity
or ponderous complexity in every brush and stroke;

the icon strangers seek for reason
looking upon for inspiration;

the husband who gives and comforts
appreciating the angel he's been bestowed;

the father wise and guiding
with enough laughs and smiles to last their whole lives;

the chef and the baker serving only the best
scrumptious entrees and desserts;

the encyclopedia of experience
answering questions obscured from the web;

yet beyond all things
I wish to greet death with a smile
knowing my life, however lived
was worth those years.

Life is like a picture, taken with a film camera
You take the picture, but you don't see how it looks right away
You worry that the picture would be blurry
or worry that it won't work out the way you want it to
You develop the film, turn those negatives into beautiful pictures.
and if you mess up on one photo, you still have 24 or more beautiful pictures for that reel.
Life is like that
You work hard, but you don't see the fruit of your labor right away
you worry about so many things and think about all the things that could go wrong.
Like film, you develop
The negatives can be used to become beautiful wonderful positives in your life.
If you mess up, you have more chances.
Life is full of chances
So life is like a photo
a photo you take on a film camera
and you are the photographer
so take some beautiful pictures.

I try to click on what's beyond
but thirty six decisions are all done
I unwind to hear the relaxing purr
slowly like a sleeping cat
I was staggering on what I've done
but your smile is all I had
I gave the toy to put on scan
lips biting on the waiting lounge.

When the time run's out
you gave the best moments I want
beautiful grains are all I've got
hues of landscapes are moving
flares on portraits are smiling
like holograms in your eyes.

My thirty six moments are in hand
all focused on ravished smiles I want
which makes me thankful to the staff.

I wish I can go back in time
seeing your laugh that can't deny
That thirty six moments are all gone
but you gave the smile I've never done.

Between flares and grains
or even negatives in shadows
our stories will never come undone
it will continue like a vagabond
it's not perfect
like we saw in magazines
but we need to keep moving
just like a roll of film.

It’s cold for a California night
near the start of May. The sky
was gloomy all day so some of you left
your suits at home. It’s alright,
wear what you’ve got. Music plays
through tiny speakers from a beer
soaked table as we line up, half
****, along the water’s cement edge.

The song is muffled, so I pretend
it’s The Shins. I can’t see anyone
through the rising steam, so I trip
headfirst to the bottom of the pool.

We get out every thirty minutes or so
to take shots, leaping back in without
a second thought. We don’t notice it’s pouring
until the lighters that live with our
glass pipes (within reach without leaving
the water) give out, and forget how
to make flames. Red cups have been
blowing off the table for an hour now
but we were too busy floating on our backs
and thinking this feels like home.

life’s such a film
independent b movie
badly written
poorly edited
dialogue all too real.

starring me as the main character and
I am the producer
director
script writer
cameraman
and I plug it
to every Fallon out there.

and … scene
after his struggles,
the main character filters out
not in a blaze of glory
but noose in hand
rat poison and
Johnnie Walker on his breath.
He didn’t want to end up like his mom
but look at him now.