Natalia was mean to me,
I was 11,
I was 13,
Teachers said to stop flirting,
I misplaced ideas of what that meant,
I am 32 and Natalia is married with 2 kids,
Is it supposed to mean something,
Aging emo,
Codependency was never cute,
But at least they made some good records,
The records I am making were
Best broken bottles setting scenes at 8 am
Sober and spiritual,
Non chalant locked in battle
With too much chalant,
Writing letters that transform and terrorize,
Just to get the cathartic release,
Putting those letters back in the ether box,
They were never said,
But they were,
With glances and bad motives,
Harping on that embarrassment you felt,
After shouting into that flooded storm,
Yes,
This is loneliness,
This is the late night doom scrolling,
The early morning speed dates of pictures and one word pick-up line,
I should be further,
I shouldn't feel this,
******* crazy,
Misguided meetings,
Modern motivation through justifications,
I'm definitely going for the meditation not the manipulation
I accept my feelings after dizzying candlelights and a shouting mind,
But just because I accept feelings,
Doesn't mean that they don't ****,
"Who knew sobriety would make you so suicidal."
I guess only the ones who made it far enough to feel those unaccepted feelings,
The sun still rises,
Better come up with a better pick-up line.

Dog asleep,
Snorting at invisible peanut butter,
I have the lights on, but
Feels like no body is home,
Baseball game, barely paying attention,
Cant sleep, too exhausted exhausted,
This is the life I always dreamt,
House full of life,
Is this what's left?

Had an old-timer say on Saturday,
Insane thoughts don't sound too bad,
When you're batshit crazy,
Guess that's where I'm at,
Appreciating that most of the time,
I just don't know,
Nothing,

Drove home again,
Screaming at the headlights and silence,
Screaming at a loneliness I,
Lived so long with,
Screaming,
Why did you leave me,
Alone,
The house is no longer empty,
Screaming that my life,
Is just another,
Cold brew from Sonic,
Is this what's left,

Grey.
The Grey hair was only on my eyebrow,
Guess that's ok,
ATM cards slipping outa my pocket,
While flying over real life fictional cities,
Should have made the world smaller,
But it just made me feel more,
Alone,
There it is.

Newcomer,
Needing life,
Reminds me of what I deserve,
He said,
"I just want what you got"
Perspective
I turn off the light,
Dogs didn't move,
The sonic sobs,
I didn't finish it,
The loneliness flashes like a nostalgic smell,
The Giants beat the Mets.

Nature of,
Is ever,
Changing,
It goes with the wind,
No one understands,
How it's blowing,
A moment,
Is invaded by shadow,
But a byproduct,
Of light,
The winter appearing,
In the midst,
Of the ever present desert,
Shutdown,
With the spring and blooms,
The feeling
Of
Happiness
Of a sun shining,
Knowing the leaves will soon turn,
What is it, a kiss, or smile
The gray hair,
Or
The feelings of somewhere else,
It's all changing,
Life live streams,
Veins, in moutains,
Drying up,
Natures of lifetimes.
It's all just wind blowing,
Anyhow.

Bass too loud,
Breaking the sunset,
Riding to another hospital,
Stops along the way,
Followed by phone drops
And embarrassed looks,
No one saw anyhow,
No one was looking,
Energy drinks and firebombs,
We're are just looking for life,
The best of us lie,
The worst of us give up.
Another chair,
Sterilized smells,
the methadone looks like it's kicking in,
But I'm here looking for life,
they are looking for a way to get some smokes,
We're all oot anyway,
The ride home shakes the night,
Talks aboot living life,
Bills,
Past lives,
Punk rock grown up,
Black eye liner under transition lenses,
The dogs are waiting,
So is the laundry,
My welcome mat smiles,
And the love smiles brighter,
Turn on hbo,
Life is living,
Sunsets and overplayed setlists.

It snowed in Phoenix,
The winds smelled like a nostalgic candle,
In the middle of a crowd,
Dogs barked fearing the sky was falling,
And old timers were either smiling,
Or judging onlookers,
Because it reminded them of where then ran,
Chimneys rose with fireplace's pride,
They knew this day would come,
Cars scratched down freeways of people,
Lost,
Because they forgot where they were,
They themselves knew that they didn't know where they were going anyhow,
The dead rose, or turned over,
Depending,
On what Christmas song was playing,
The poets and the painters alike broke tools,
Because nature beat them too it-
Again,
It snowed in Phoenix today,
And the world decided to burn,
Time to put up those Christmas Lights.

The lights in Beijing,
They are trying to imitate the stars,
Their falsehoods only ring true with the right song,
They only loose their deception in fake smiles,
And long standing words,
That have only little meaning left,
The waves in honolu,
Are trying to be the calming breath,
They only loose their depth,
When you cant believe your back at smitty's again,
When you see your last 5 spot,
And you know where it's going,
They can't calm you to sleep anymore,
The mountains in Denver are wanting to be Gods,
But they loose their glory in giant snow storms,
That make you feel like your fingers itch and numb,
Their Godhood is called into question when she won't wake up in bathroom stall,
And when you can't see the stars,
The heated wind in Phoenix,
Wants to be your warm blanket,
It just looses it's luster when you want to open your eyes to who you are,
When you can't breathe because of looks from far away people in far away minds,
And if you just need that cigarette to put the day behind you

The lights in Beijing shine true,
When the right song comes on,
And their glow is the hope that's left,

The waves in ol' Honolu breathe calm,
When you decide to go home,
And see your hopeful tomorrow,
Waves

The Mountains in Denver,
Are paying Godly attention,
When the sun comes a shining,
And remind you exactly where you are at,
The whisper,
It's exactly where you need to be

The hot windy days in Phoenix,
Show their comfort,
Dancing with dust and spinning with leaves,
The love of life always around,
And no matter where you are,
You just might be home.

Sympathetic empathas saying words,
That are read from a script,
No one knew how to write,
It's early and cars,
Driving to,
Another paid bill,
Or whatever Thomas said,
Expierences fulfilled by fuel,
Maybe they aren't driving,
Or drinking,
might just be,
making babies in the,
Basement,
Or whatever Keats said,
Distantly dancing,
To kindergarteners and,
cancer patients,
Just another Thursday,
With mystic music,
Lofting around,
The empty dance halls,
Falling up,
With Christopher Robbins,
To the stars,
The bus is on time
Or whatever Dylan said.