i am overzealous and underwhelming. i say somethings and i regret them. i say nothings and i wish i hadn't. i am weighted and unbalanced. i place value where i think it belongs. i lean heavy into things for too long. i am uncertain and so sure. i run out of thoughts before my heart runs out of feelings. my thoughts run over and overwhelm my heart. i am liminal and concrete. im incomplete but hoping i could be.

walk, keep walking
don't stop, don't turn around
look forwards for the possible lives
that you could live
and pay homage to your old self.

run, keep running
don't hesitate, don't turn back
look ahead for more and more
that you could have
that you could be.

sing, don't stop singing
don't be sad, don't turn all mellow
look around for your own rhythm
that could serenade your soul
and make you whole again.

she existed in the liminal spaces
between evening and night
a frosted marble statue
decorating the stone patio
in front of a white brick building
and she reaches out
her hands beckoning
any passerby
to spare her a glance
and a kind word
she existed in the liminal spaces
between love and apathy
a bright smile and blinding eyes
staring blankly into the shadows
in the corner of her favorite coffee shop
lifting her cup to her lips
a silent toast in my direction
telling me that
i did not go unnoticed
she existed in the liminal spaces
between your lips and mine
exchanging cold air cigarette smoke
between two lungs
like lovers
words dying as they hit
the cold november air
in the backseat of a yellow bus
and she breathes into the side of my neck
as i gather my thoughts into
words on my fingertips
and she tells me
he does not mind
she existed in the liminal spaces
between streetlights and mountain roads
hands on the worn leather wheel
screaming beautiful words
at the top of her lungs
she overlapped my melody
with her own
and in the pause between words
we switched effortlessly
gliding into the next verse
like practiced artists
and fated lovers
and the best of friends
we harmonized

you’re staring at a wrench display
in a failing sears 10 minutes before closing
and don’t recognize the reflection in the stainless steel.
you’ve been here a million times,
run your fingers along band saws a million times,
memorized the store’s playlist, learned “Love Hurts" by Nazareth
but you’re still trying to find something that connects,
something to retrace the steps to what pushed you out the door,
placed cold hands in empty pockets, made you stop
to buy cigarettes and brought you here again.
your blood pumps slower in places of transition,
only walked through to get to the mall
or back through to poorly parked cars
and you know a lot about
being used to move on
but left behind.
an employee asks if you’re alright
and you say yes
because you know they’re running out their shift
and don’t want to deal with your ****
and how could you tell them
that today, your skin feels foreign.
maybe you’ll find something in
winter coats and blackout curtains
but until then you make a home
on a display mattress
because you only live in liminal spaces.
you’re only grounded
between phases, in inbetweens.
you rely on uncertainty and in this economy,
the sears might be gone before you realize you’ll miss it.

I stood at a crossroads
And the horizon came towards me.
50 000 kilowatts of pure ecstasy
Raced through my tendons.
I had sunbeams for eyes
And **** for brains,
A crushing tempest of
Beauty and chaos,
Telling me that mortality was
Violent and explosive.

Morality isolates and fenders bend.
Circumference learns, “half-way” but fails to take the name
“Radius,”
And when she lay a meter nigh
With child, my child;
I still and will feel horribly alone.

Curse my iron fist and rusts the middle knuckle,
When another weeps, not for I, not for you but the gods assumed,
“Heaven,”
And 3 floors above my own;
Tucked lies the pain, regret fills fetal;
I still and will feel horribly alone.

So comes the autumn, the fire prior, “Styx,”
Upon borders that could only separate, “fatherhood,” so partitioned,
“Winter,”
And 3 floors below her own –
A pillar wrought persistence and abandoned, my hedonism;
I still and will feel horribly alone.