#sandwitches
I've never had the most solid sense of direction.
I've this bad habit of getting lost;
first in thought and then, well,
literally.
But I've written things this whole time,
and every line is an arrow so that I can find my way back.
Back to some kind of bliss.
A state of mind that I can no longer feel,
but I know that I miss.
But isn't there a part in that story where the bread crumbs have been eaten by birds?
I can't remember.
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 1:07 AM UTC
I can't remember where or when or why, but I do remember thinking
"if only I could be like that,"
"if only I could have that kind of life,"
"if only I could behave and act in such a way that was a better reflection of my own deep down as-of-yet unfound ideal personality type,
as a better version of myself; the me I want to be but can't even imagine being:
then I'd be happy."
Come to realize that I have become that version, but just as I've changed, so has my own ideal version of what I could be (which is to say, that despite achieving vaguely recalled dreams, I'm still not happy.)
It's like running a race against yourself,
surrounded by wraiths of what you could-have/once-were/will-one-day-become running in the other lanes.
The trick is to close my/your/our eyes and meld them all together;
the key is to maintain this pace.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC
Every poem I ever wrote is nothing but a sticky note,
with keywords written to remind me of all but forgotten memories.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 1:54 AM UTC
Blueprints of future eloquence
drawn up in the mind.
Manufactured moments played out in real-time.
Accidental actors
improvising memorized lines.
None can be the wiser to the grand design.
It's all for nothing if it feels too contrived.
Make sure to leave enough room for all those little
unknwons in life.
When it pans out how it shouldn't,
when just the right amount of things go wrong,
it all comes together in one incredible instant.
Profound.
Beautiful.
Gone.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
There is a place that we don't like to revisit.
A topic that perpetually stays off limits,
but every now and then,
stars in space align in such a way
that cause us to relive it.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
I can feel it in my bones.
I can feel it in my teeth.
Emanating from some place buried deep underneath.
I can hear it in your words.
I can taste it on your lips.
Electricity,
recharged by your kiss.
My body is a conduit.
A key tied to a kite string.
I'm thinking of every wish I've wasted on pennies never spent.
Hopes and dreams thought up then tossed.
They're all coming true tonight.
I found my way while staying lost.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Do you ever wonder about secret agents?
How they behaved when they were young?
Did they have troubled childhoods?
Were they not properly loved?
Did they have a lot of practice with resisting lust?
Did they learn the hard way that there's no one you can trust?
Do you ever wonder about rock stars,
and what makes them so rabid?
Did they recognize their own potential,
but couldn't fight those filthy habits?
All of that anger for their parents, ex-lovers, and friends.
Did they take a trip to hell only to find out that it never ends?
Did that anger actually stem from a disappointment with themselves?
And what about the lonely who never find Someone Else?
Did they all partake on a journey to find their self?
Did they hate the answer?
Did they get no results?
Did they get stuck in a tunnel then couldn't crawl their way out?
Maybe they just never found anyone who could deal with the depth of their faults.
I'm in a chrysalis stage:
still developing into an adult.
All of the mistakes I've made -
their lessons are being retained.
It's all preparation and training.
One day I'll be great.
You don't have to believe me,
but just you wait.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 3:42 AM UTC
Clearly an absurdist.
Small stakes for what his word is worth.
The hare let the tortoise beat him accidentally on purpose.
Everyone loves a good story.
When ego is beyond everything
how can you care about fame and glory?
Victory feels silly.
Like a brand new bride without her ring.
Losing only hurts the pride if they allow themselves to feel the sting.
I am far from winning,
but farther still from admitting defeat.
When that rhythm hits me,
I'll sing along and move my feet.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
A man of action,
I was,
for a series of months.
I worked my *** off and fought all of my thoughts.
A constant distraction;
that's all I want.
No matter what happens,
I cannot get lost.
Caught up in longing for what never was.
Let me be a rock,
let life wash over me.
I'll stand solid in the middle of a stream.
Feeling no feelings.
Dreaming no dreams.
And worrying not about these waters that will erode me.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
Is pity passed down in the genes?
What about sympathy?
I fear I've inherited an overabundance of both.
It drains me to the point where I feel like a ghost.
Sometimes I wonder if I didn't die a long time ago.
Am I stuck in limbo,
just repeating the same old pattern?
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 3:34 AM UTC
I once knew a man
who said,
"Invest while you can."
I told him I didn't have any money.
"Well, I can't help you then."
I once met this kid
who told me his sins.
I couldn't say why,
I hardly knew him.
"You've a trustworthy face,
and you're leaving tomorrow."
But I never asked to be burdened by his sorrow.
I once loved a girl
who became my world.
I clung to her every single last word.
Then she was gone
to leave me in silence.
I replaced it with noises of hatred and violence.
I once had a choice
to make something new,
but I still hear her voice
telling me what to do.
I once spent a night
with a spirited punk.
Willful and passionate,
but down on his luck.
We painted the town red
and made Down the new Up.
I once read a book
that spelled out my life.
A real page turner,
though I know it's all lies.
Someone once told me
not to live in the past.
"Be here right now,
the future comes fast."
But I often look back
to cry or to laugh,
and on nights such as these
I'll write epitaphs.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
I wish I had a time machine to go back and kick my own ***
Or at least try to talk some sense into myself.
"Listen kid, this **** doesn't bode well. You're burning alive and headed for hell."
Maybe writing is its own kind of time travel.
Billy Pilgrim knows what I'm talking about.
"Chin up child. Stop playing wild. I know you're trying to make your own style,
but you'll lose more than you'll gain."
But before I step in and turn the dial, my future self comes back to slap my hand.
"Let it be," I'll say to me.
One day you'll understand.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
I got filled up with something thrilling and I've been
spilling it out of me ever since.
Inspiration is the basis of how to make a difference.
Swelled up from songs and quotes
now spread them out into the world.
Pay it forward, play it back;
put that ride in gear
get it back on track.
There's a whole world of people down in the dumps.
If you've got passion and if you can feel love,
then extend your hand to pull the others up.
I am not above you.
You are a reflection of how I was before.
I'm no longer afraid to love you.
Let's both feel better and never let that misery touch us anymore.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
This one's called "Running Under Streetlights on a Treadmill Made of Gravel"
Don't you ever wonder where you'd be without love?
There is no distance I wouldn't travel
to be under the arms of this oak.
This one is called "I Ain't Got All Night to Plot with the Moon,"
and this one's called "I'm Losing my Mind in the Middle of June,"
so give me a light, because this dark's ending soon.
I am a scarecrow lost in a tornado
(this one is called "You Can't Keep All of Your Straw.")
I am a glass figure in the midst of a hail storm.
This one is called "Where's my Umbrella?"
And I've found an answer,
so ask me the question.
This one is called "The Supreme and Holy Power of Suggestion"
Some nights are never ending.
This one's called "That Fruit Ain't Worth Eating if the Garden's Not Worth Tending"
So don't you judge me.
My antennae may be broken,
but my signal still sends,
and my mind is wide open.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
I look onto the world,
and all that I can see
are tales of woe, success, heroes,
love, loss, pain, and tragedy.
I look back on my life
and see it just the same.
All of it so beautiful,
yet commonplace and plain.
I look onto the world,
and it looks back on me.
All that I can see,
all of it and everything;
nothing more than poetry.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
Doomed to forever be concerned with the things that most won't notice - let alone take an interest in.
Fated to state the rules of a game of which most don't know they're playing - whether or not they may be winning.
Always curious.
Ever grasping.
Despairing when they realize that the quest is everlasting.
What is it that makes it thus?
Myself,
the world,
random floating motes of dust.
I'll assign them meaning just to see it fall apart
in the face of a smile.
In the face of indifference.
Caught up in a desperate attempt to recapture one's lost innocence.
A few misplaced words can turn you into just another madman scribbling on the walls.
What keeps it going?
It's the hope that someone,
somewhere,
will understand it all.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
I speak in metaphors,
but I feel like I've met you before.
You were what was hiding on the otherside of my door.
You were the canopy at the top of the trees;
Basking in the moonlight.
I tried to climb but I fell on the way up.
You were the branches that broke my fall.
You were the leaves in autumn;
How I tried to catch them all.
You were the one that held me tight.
You were the clouds that cloaked the moon in the middle of the night.
You were all the things that I struggled to see.
You are everything that I want to be.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
I play these ballads for no one
To lose myself in it
And right when it's over
Is when I begin it
Now caught in the middle
My mind sits bewildered
Innocent criminal
A guileless sinner
In the between
Fulfilling my dreams
Giving sound to my conscience
Through the touch of these keys
I begin to see it
I start to believe
All of this nonsense
Now I know what it means
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 11:56 PM UTC
Do you remember that time?
My family has a home video of it.
It was my birthday,
and we were little kids,
and there's this moment in it
where we are standing quietly -
Staring at each other
Awkwardly.
You smile and giggle,
and I smile too,
but only a little,
because I'm trying to be still.
When I see it, it's like walking into a time portal.
I remember what I'd said to you.
I remember how I'd felt:
Like everything was moving too fast,
so I asked you for some help.
I said,
"Just stand here a minute. Don't move.
Let's just stand here for a second."
And you did.
And there it is!
Us standing awkwardly right in the midst
of chaotic childhood revelry -but removed from it.
We're like two young souls frozen
forever in a moment that made no sense,
and when I see it,
I long for that first loss of innocence.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
Sometimes I tap my cigarette in time to the syllables of the numbers nine through twelve.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone knows what the hell I'm talking about.
So I walk around outside to try to understand my mind
just to get lost on a journey and leave it all behind.
If you could join me, I'd show you all of the lights.
The ones with deep meaning that make everything all right.
But it's times like these that I'd rather be by myself:
Nine, Ten, E-lev-en, Twelve.
As a kid I always lived inside of my head.
Backyard battles with demons were always so vivid.
One time I stuck a bunch of duck feathers into the back of my shirt.
I ran around the pool jumping -
just trying to leave Earth.
As I grew up, I maintained my thirst for adventure.
Fell in love with facing fears -
succumbed to a lust for danger.
Always trying to disprove my doubts.
Nine, Ten, E-lev-en, Twelve.
Fell into doing drugs and developed a taste.
Having fun with a new crowd.
Learned to deal with disgrace,
but sometimes I'd catch my reflection in a mirror
and couldn't recognize my own face.
But all the while coming closer to achieving my dreams.
Knowing one day I'd fly away on my wings.
Came to find out the true nature of the place that I dwell.
An angel can't fly when he's trapped down in hell.
Nine, Ten, E-lev-en, Twelve.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel that I want something more,
Then sometimes I'm content to lie down on the floor,
And I can't help but wonder
If this is all that I've been searching for.
Just a strange place to lay my head,
And foreign surroundings to make up my bed,
Then I can't help but wonder
If this is a scene from a book that I've yet to have read.
The first time I went to Disney World,
And we were crossing a bridge,
I asked, "Is this all some part of a story?"
And my grandma said, "Of course it is!"
She was referring to Cinderella.
You know, the one who met that charming prince,
But I was talking about all of life,
And I've felt misunderstood ever since.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
When I was a little kid,
About maybe five or six
I told my parents I would become an addict on purpose
Just to show them how to quit
They said I was foolish
They told me to stop it
But I insisted I would
Now here I am, almost 20 years later
It's about time I made good.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
Everything will be alright
These frightening thoughts won't live past tonight
You'll wake up in the morning and feel . . .
Whole again
So when you feel that noose getting tight
When the shadows obstruct your view of the light
Just lay down and go to sleep
And when you wake
Everything will be bright
This moment you're stuck in
Will not last forever
There will be a tomorrow
And it'll make you feel better
But there's a chance that it won't
The trick is to hope
If you go to bed knowing that you'll feel empty tomorrow
Then don't
You'll wake up in the morning and realize
That you have no friends
You'll wake up in the morning and think
That you have to start all over again
You'll wake up in the morning and wish
That you'd rather be dead
But still everything will be alright
You'll grow accustomed to this empty life
You'll wake up in the morning and feel . . .
That hole again
So when that fiend comes to trap you
And you struggle ensnared
And you scream out your soul to find somebody who cares
You'll hear your own echo come back
And realize that nobody's there
Nothing ever will be alright
You've ****** up real good
Permanently this time
Spend forever in the void to repent for this crime
But this time is an illusion
And this void is made up
I am cause I am
And that one thought is enough
Everything will be alright
Because everything is what you're made of
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
Going through my very own time portal
Watching my life through my head
And I'm sitting wondering how I got here again
Singing a new song with clicks and clacks
Knowing it will soon get stale
Sipping on my brandy and ginger ale
You might understand a different plight
But this one is all I know
Sometimes I wish I had somewhere else to go
Remedies are all anyone can say
I know that they never help
A person's got to learn to save their own self
And all it takes is some will power
To keep myself away from this
But I can only ever stand to do
Whatever I wish
And all I have is all I've ever had before
Sprawled out on the ceiling of my own room
I think I'll spend tonight on this bathroom floor
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC