Christmas Eve gets easier,
to go to bed,
every year

I loved that smile,
no one inside,
inside is beckoning.

Some day,
you will,
see me on the history channel

Who deems a life a tragedy,
God or The Poet.

I am Scott Pilgrim withoot,
getting the awkward happy ending.

There is a stump with a lawn chair on top in a yard with dirt,

no one knows how it got there, like a cheesy line insert,

some say the Gods struck it down upon yonder tree stump,

other folks say the lawn chair was dipped in the same stuff as Achilles,

that was some reason left at the dump,

but lock in a bond they are,

through wind and winter,

they locked tight as if holding hands in a ***** bar,

you may ask me what I think in some way or another,

but I think they are lovers frozen in bodies that never feel the sacrifice of weather,

holding onto what they can that stay still,

you may ask once again,

and I both despise and love their will.

Stepping oot into the air,
and it burns your lungs so you question your dare,
in particular there is no where,
that is pushing you oot there,
but a when,
the dark street adds and takes away,
as film reels play blue memories from brighter days,
were they really that great?
because you were still walking late,
when it was still cold,
but the reels dont stop,
and the nostalgia makes you check the clock,
to make sure your still in the right tight time
turn off the films, put 'em back in the corner of your mind
where they always reside,
and just go back inside.

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.

I said marry me,
in sly tones and a sense of decency,
she said I was drunk and needed a nights rest,
so I said she out of all my friends was best,
eating pancakes she had to go,
I'll sit here and watch the snow,
I hate this show,
my life and every song,
so I texted her and asked, "why does it feel so wrong?"
no one has an answer because they feel it too,
I guess I'll see it,
when the snow falls anew.

Under a new night sky,
Wondering if my past is a life that I didn't let die,
Or a reason to remind me how to feel alive,
Is it the gear that lets me drive,
Or is it a parking brake,
A new night sky,
With the same twinkle,
A new cup and different wrinkles,
Still the goofy smile,
And the anticlimactic trial,
That the jury is still oot,
Long days are long days,
And what they say are still what they says,
The night sky hasn't changed,
And the writing still feels a little deranged,
It's still the past stars,
And the flashing lights of karaoke bars,
Just more cowboy hats,
I'm still adjusting to my same night sky,
And the past is a story that is a disastrously beautiful lie,
That I didn't let die,
Because my future depends on it

We walked in to darkness,
putting off what we both know what it will bring,
as sadness began to flare, and anxiety started to sing,
we both looked up to stars,
knowing it's one thing that has always healed our scars,
I began to cry a bit,
knowing it was going to be a while till we got to sit,
and talk aboot how many views we got that day,
I said I love where the middle star in Orion sits,
because the darkest spot in the night sky,
is a lie,
its a gateway to every thing that has ever come to pass,
and as our cigarettes came to an, I was praying the final drags would last,
we smiled at each other with a knowing,
that in the morning I would be going,
with a sigh I put the night to and end,
talking aboot the pictures each of us need to send,
we said good night, with a belly full of lead,
the conversation never ends, but the cigarette is dead,
and we say,
sleep well and see you in the morning,
looking at you with eyes full of sad, we say I'll talk to you later,
but in my heart I am saying,
I love you Dad.

Small talks,
Written in between railroad tracks,
A track going to nowhere,
At least it's beautiful,
The houses look cozy,
Behind their walls we wonder aloud,
If its football or just a get together,
Little lives playing,
Seemingly unimportant roles,
Living lives, on stairway steps,
No longer living lies,
Breathing,
Just breathe
Return to places you've never been,
And feel the love around,
At least it's hear now,
Long timers with only today,
Saying words that feel weighted,
Because they actually know,
Caravans catering to the perpetual,
One night stands,
Take the advice,
And keep the serenity,
You won't feel it till tomorrow,
As you smile at your
Forever frustrating manager,
Leave the destruction back where,
It belongs,
Take your seat,
remember to stay awake,
And hold onto the kisses in the car,
Tomorrow reality is waiting,
And you've only,
Just begun kiddo.

A person alone,
standing somewhere unknown,
a parking garage's top floor,
looking on people at the movies and casinos in score,
every one looking forward while one stares down,
at all that inhabit this big city small town,
the families and singles alike,
trying to escape their stationary bike,
hearing barely intelligible dreams and bemoans,
no one notices the person above alone,
the mountains mingling with skyscrapers and skylines,
all looking no one searching for something to take off their minds,
there's a cool chill,
and the person soon drunk enough of the scene to have their fill,
but doesn't back even when it starts to snow,
for they have no where to go,
cept stare at the scene of beauty down below,
the pull their phone out and write this poem,
still no one looks up and sees the person alone.

I always fall,
into someone's soul,
everytime I am here.

It was the moment,
In between when the mushrooms kicked in,
And my heart blowing oot,
As heaven was destroying and rebuilding,
All the holes,
The music took hold,
And my smile made me bold,
The car ride seemed so far,
But closing my eyes I realized I am already there,
Scenes playing like a movie I had seen,
Just all of the sets aren't the same,
And all the actors have different names,
The smile is still there

Hours speed,
Up on weekends and I,
Think about this while,
The smells of soap and sobriety,
Creep like layers of,
A cake that I've just began eating,
But the minutes feel,
Like a,
Laundromat waiting room,
In purgatory,
In between your messages,
That force my,
Script writing pen,
To be set down,
I never am right,
When I try to write,
What your next line will be,
Your smiles are sometimes,
Hidden beneath a,
Sadness,
That I can only try to coax,
With cheese,
To see it's broken body,
But,
That sadness isnt some broken board,
In an old house,
that needs to be fixed
It's needing the,
Appreciation,
That if it was repaired,
It would loose it's history,
And that awesome broken board,
Doesn't make,
The whole whole house,
It makes it,
Unique,
Unique in the way that,
I wake up in the middle of the night,
Grasping my bed,
For,
That person that has never been there,
But,
Is there every night,
I can appreciate the grabbed sheets,
Because I can appreciate the new year,
Like that amazing house with,
History,
I find new things,
New rooms,
With new broken boards,
And new broken bodies,
Except this year I can remember,
All of it,
And,
I got a new batch of cheese,
Time to get oot of the shower,
And,
Walk through,
That first room.

When it rains here,
there is no lightning, nor thunder to fear,
like a tear,
without the shakey voice,
you have the choice,
hide under a tree,
or let everyone one see,
you embrace the sadness,
you embrace the storm,
feeling the cold but accepting the warm,
shout at the clouds,
I'm not leaving!
as the sun shines,
and the tears are just lines,
you will smile knowing,
that when you feel the wind blowing,
and the rain makes you feel like a wet pup,
you can accept it.

She's crying over text messages,
As the pink haired ****** decides it's time,
The dope always wins,
The lady behind me has flowers,
With a note tucked,
It says,
"Dedicated to the little moments".
The former **** with crossed oot S's,
Smiles at a skinny Jew,
We do change,
Most of the time over a ride,
But usually the ride lasts the lifetime,
She's no longer crying,
Trying to be strong like her mama once told her,
When she fell,
The college kid in tucked flannel reads chapter 45,
Of a book that is blank,
The pages scream, "fill me in!"
He checks his wallet, not knowing what else,
To do,
The poet is in the front,
Or the back,
It depends on which way you're going,
He writes this little story,
Tapping a face that reflects his good,
Intentions,
He has to write the opera of souls,
Poured out,
He signs off,
Another Lightrail Tale.

Piggly Wiggly sleeps,
and snores,
behind,
closed doors,
while someone is cleaning a door,
jam,
others are questioning where they are,
a poet,
reads words in a bathroom stall,
someone down the hall,
whisper shouting in another,
stall,
asks, "What's the point to all this?"
rehab in winter,
rehab in fall,
a **** and a smile,
but a reminder,
you get in what you get out,
sixty one days sober,
breaking the record every day,
the poet flushes away,
is internal frown,
complaining companions move onto the windows,
piggly wiggly dreams aboot,
bacon and ****,
another record,
the poet asks his higher power,
please let it last,
one day at a time,
everyone stops,
sloppy joes & cigarettes,
for,
lunch.

You sell your paintings on the street,

I sell my writing on the black market,

we will keep at it till we meet,

I will sing my lyrics on an old carpet,

you will paint until your pictures bleed,

I will write with such a need,

you paint to make things real,

I write just to feel,

we will keep at it even if there is no meal,

you paint to scream,

I write to forget my nightmare, my dream

You paint with colors dark and bright

I write to make things right,

you paint with emotion,

I write what is in sight,

we will keep at it till this festival is revealed to light,

you paint what you see,

I write to see me,

you paint in the parts of this screaming town,

I write to make a lover wear a wedding gown,

we will keep at it till there is no sound.

You paint about me in this dizzy trance,

and I will write about you in advance,

we will keep at it till the end of our dance

and show each other what we have done.

The theater's empty and I can't seem to figure why,
The ground feels like a sticky, but hard lie,
It's plain with drapes to a darkened heaven,
With movie posters that make me nostalgic for when I was 7,
Or was it 11?
The projector starts to warm up,
And the ghosts in the machine show who they wanted to be,
This popcorn reminds me of a love that was wearing her favorite leather jacket,
*******, how did I get popcorn?
The screen shows ads for ****** ****,
But its in Spanish with Czech subtitles ,
And a weird sense of accomplishment,
Seems to give way with the images, now gone,
Apparently I have a soda that I have never noticed nor engaged or enraged,
Blue stills of ****** knees and beaches unbeknownst to any future,
With the credits rolling of names I'll remember, forget and lie remembering
A calming anxiety seems to fill in where the smoke creeping oot the vents does not,
The teleporting popcorn comes with me,
And choose to leave, with the seat,
I seem to forget to ask myself,
meow so clear,
How did I get here?

It won't stop in my ear,
a ring and no one is answering,
no one will pick up,
a stupid cause with no end,
take care I send,
but to no response,
this is the end.

I guess this was needed,
to get over feeling defeated,
and start the rebuilding,
might change my mind tomorrow,
but today I am smiling through the sorrow,
and realizing I had gold,
that everyone was telling me, including the jewler, that it was fools,
that I should fold,
I walked around with you in my pocket and in my head,
always remembering the kindly evil words you said,
evil now because they its me they haunt,
but kindly because its the words I want,
I would  have asked for another dance,
but its too late and the band has left and were no longer in the right stance,
we dont even talk and thats fine,
because I can walk around with my memories,
and know you were once mine,
but I threw the gold in the river bed,
and both our phones are dead,
I'll smile for today,
and I'll smile towards yesterday's way,
ask me tomorrow night if I am fine,
I'll tell you to it was a journey and not a line,
we all have to reach the end point some before some,
I'll take a step towards the left,
and follow a second rising sun.

Their ghost smiles,
And always existing files,
Haunt my dreams,
I see him play,
I hear her say,
"I love you dad"
Empty swings in a park,
That mock me by still dances in the dark,
I call out but I know they aren't real,
A darkness that feels,
I can feel their warmth and fright in my dream,
But when I try to hold tighter,
They evaporate into steam,
I guess fate likes to mock me,
When all I see are whatmighthavebeens,
We will see each other soon.

Lady Gaga's poker face is off,

While I hear Dr.Frankenstein maniacal cough,

Marlyn's eyes pacing and keeping with her anxieties,

with Bob Dylan telling her about his newest sobrieties,

Bunch a ******* cards says Loretta Lynn,

I'm all in says he with the masochistic words written on his chin,

Gaga throws her dark shades on her slave Popculture,

he bows and tries to back out the door,

When Elvis and Kerry Grant grab his collar,

and tell him to earn his dollar.

My hand is nothing but missed connections,

and different lives I might have lived.

I fold.

It was on the walk while surrounded by dizzy  
stillness and birds' song,
Invoked in a desperate last gasp
It was all too apparent with the spinning nothingness of this street
Swirled and unapologetically driven by nonsense except in smatterings
while looking down a street
looking for a cigarette,
The reality in facing reality hits me,
like a swift kick in the nuts
when the Gardener looks at me with those,  uneasy eyes,
The walk continues as
the colors inked with rusted mailboxes
etched with dying roses synch grey skies
and grey...sweatshirts
The walk feels well worn
and I stand in unconvinced understanding,
That I was no longer nauseous.

It's the night,
before another rotation,
things feel right,
unspoken words,
have turned into one way actions,
elusive internet *******,
replaced by the piggle wiggle's,
chainsaw snoring,
the room smells of seroquel, feet,
and the helping of hope,
sticks from a recovery melted poet,
legs of jell-o,
mood of mellow,
dancing twilight in a skyline,
of building and buses,
a year ago he was drunk,
and jail was his entitlement a week,
later,
two years and more,
have evaporated to chemicals and nights that no longer exist,
and lust,
and fair share of unalibitical rust,
the sounds and smells he's,
holding onto this year,
the only hourglass sand bits,
not fallen through, for the feels of fear,
will only disappear,
Birthdays in rehab,
birthdays ad non infinitum,
courtships of programming & meetings,
the poet,
now producing naturally foreign unforced smiles,
better get his sponsor,
to sign his slip.

My hands are shaking,
The smile is no longer faking,
Sweaty after a realization of my dark lungs,
No longer caving to drown the the butterfly chained to a ball and chain in my gut,
I put down the bottle and pick up my sneaks,
Perspiration leaks,
As I wheeze,
The butterfly is set free,
And I feel like for the first time i can taste the breeze,
Shakey knees,
And a new song to sing,
Grabbing the new beat,
So I take off my shoes,
Step inside the fresh door,
Starting again with a smirking core,
With my hands that won't stop shaking,
And a smile I'm no longer faking.

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.

A jacket I used to keep her warm,
clothes that I have worn,
too many in a box,
sitting at her house with locks,
I sent the message,
**** it I tried.

There was only that, as my world faded, people and sound alike, all that's left is a smile and view, but in the days it felt new, now a memory like a star in night, it makes the darkness run in fright, in small pockets of my mind it shines bright, the music swaying up the seats and rows, a conversation that will never end slows, as my eyes can't shake, that smile you make, its been years and we've both grown, but on nights when I feel like the world wants me alone, I can still see the bay, and when you touched my hand and asked if I'll stay.

News feeds and nose bleeds,

staring back through the screen,

shouting, and screaming,

everyone is doing fine if you catch my meaning,

photographers and band members,

but the poet, no one remembers,

singers are showing their songs,

and painters are filling their bongs,

messengers going on benders,

but the poet, no one remembers,

they are burning up the page,

with their eyes filled with ambitious rage,

saying things that have meanings to another,

everyone likes,

everyone acts like future lenders,

but the poet, no one remembers,

everything is great,

in the pictures they take,

doing something that matters to the rest of the Earth,

people heralding what they have done since their birth,

born into ambition,

showing another used up rendition,

to them, it is but just the beginning of soon to be embers,

but the poet, no one remembers

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.

In my trench and freezing cold,
saw a guy get his helmet shot when he stood up a bit feeling bold,
still alive but has a  wound,
I should be back in hometown with mum and pop,
eating turkey,
but instead I get this slop,
My adrenaline has been going for two weeks and its starting to wear,
but sleep I do not dare,
no man's land is all I will see,
and my dead friends welcoming me,
I start to nod into sleeping fright,
but again I fight,
I start to hear singing from across the field,
delusions I yield,
but again I hear,
and every now and then a cheer,
all drained of fear,
I pop my head up and see the Germans singing,
Christmas carols ringing?
A mate next to me starts to sing the same tunes,
so I pick it up and more do,
we must be loons,
but the singing together goes all through the night,
British and Germans, ever the hard ***** are singing too,
in the morning a brave chap gets out of the trench,
walks across the field that has the death stench,
no fire comes upon him nor gas,
but a man from the otherside gets up and rushes to meet him fast,
I dont see what they are saying but they exchange cigarettes and matches,
then the peace hatches,
we all get up on both sides and go talk with our enemies from yesterday,
we only smile because there is nothing to say,
except today is Christmas and we both want to go home,
but tomorrow we will both be firing at each other alone,
a football game break out and our commanders are even smiling,
no order to pour into filing,
just smoking pipes and waiting for it to end,
we show each other pictures of our girls and what they send,
no longer two side,
but two humans that needed someone in to confide,
we shake hands and go back to our trenches,
sit on our poorly built benches,
and wait till tomorrow when we are no longer a son,
but enemies trying to **** each one.

Indigint rehab,
checking in checking out,
another bout,
another sight,
you're weeping in the bathroom,
not knowing that life is tapping its toe impatiently,
in the next room,
choose to be,
choose to rot,
I chose that my past will always be there,
but sometimes it's easy when it's normalcy that you sought,
forgetting to forget,
you take your breath and move "one day at a time",
so they say,
but really it's one step at a time,
your life is unmanageable that's clear enough,
full of things and stuff,
but another suicide attempt under your belt,
and another counselor asking you how you felt,
the rhymes are oot of place,
like you feel whenever you walk through another space,
who's to say you werent in the right,
who's to say that you arent just looking for another fight,
so focus ahead my dear guy,
for once you can remeber what color and how to pronounce,
the works that unlie,
in this new story you can decide to write,
keep moving,
"Dont give up and dont give in",
leave your pride and take that stide,
clean yourself up kid and walk through the bathroom,
you'll start seeing all the crazy new,
and the bits of blue,
from your new view,
with cigarettes and skylines,
You'll be just fine.

Falling asleep,
But needing to write,
Too much oxygen,
Or too much right,
I owe it to her, to write right meow,
Heartbeat is realizing,
They aren't coming back that night,
Like a loyal dog it begins to calm,
Until they come back,
And feel their palm,
I don't think to stand nor sleep,
Just here wherever,
Trying to remember new memories to keep,
It's awkward, but unforced,
With delirious comfortability,
But sleep eventually conquers,
And my writing loosing eligibility,
Dizzy, but the smiling won't cease,
Waking up tomorrow, or tonight.
With an awkward peace

It's there,
When we are ordering ****** food,
And the way you like how I talk to the cashiers,
I can feel it when you pick me up from work,
And you do this dorky little wave,
You have your way,
Which is just that,
Yours,
Whether it's comfortable or just comforting,
I try to read every pause in between your lines,
It's there,
When we dance in your car,
like the idiots we try to only reveal to those closest,
I can feel it when you squeeze my hand,
The refreshing reminder,
That everything is ok,
It's there,
In the moments where we collapse on the bed,
Both dreading that tomorrow means,
The end of tonight,
I can feel it in the silences that exist,
Solely because we are saying more with our souls,
It's there,
in blues music, and starry nights,
That every cliche could make the milky way,
I can feel it,
In the smiles that I thought,
Had never existed,
It's there,
And I can feel it.

Approaching Station,
Exit to left,
Passes please,
Discounted and undiscovered,
Are the tracks still broken?
Hand loosing it's grip,
As the content contentment,
Starts to rise,
Dreamers can't have dreams,
When passed oot,
Trying to shake,
Tattooed faces,
Security let's it go,
When glasses cant stop staring,
An angel with Diamondback wings,
Trying her best to keep it all together,
While puting on shoes,
That aren't on her feet,
Rushing to the other car she saves another soul,
Central ave,
Centralized humility with mangled humanity,
He's alive,
But rarely living,
Loved,
But wondering where it is,
Art district and,
**** I've listened to this song too many times,
Poetry on rails,
******* railed by poetry,
Glasses terrified by realness,
They all deserve better,
Would they know what to do with it?
Exit to left,
The angel let's her sister go,
The door closes,
She checks,
The rail only has so many stops,
It's quiet,
The significance of the moment,
Discovered then discarded,
She's asleep.
He's not waking up,
She leaves,
Approaching station.
1st ave,
Passes please.

It's raining,
Ambulance sirens drown the,
Silent slumber,
No one is on the road,
A mobile maddance,
Mad chanced,
Or mild happenstance,
No change,
But the toll keeper keeps,
Jingling coins,
What have you got to pay?
The windowless hospital waits,
With a unacknowledged anxiety,
No one is on the road,
Will this be the last time or,
Are you trying to make,
Every one stare longer,
The rain wont stop,
Shot, shot, shot,
Drip, drip, drip,
It'll be a few days,
Till the rain,
Decides to quit,
The toll keeper has better things to do.
And the ambulance rolls on.

She had the eyes that burnt your core,
And she says with a face you never expected,
"You should never face the devil with clear eyes,
Right?"
Hopelessly romantic and awkward,
Endlessly addicted to chat rooms when bored,
While the stories would become true,
And I taking advantage,
Saying sweet nothings to people that never existed,
(except when real)
Just feeling only when only the greatest feeling,
You take what is your accepted ceiling,
Eventually you only crave the stories and not of the people,
And "fall in love with every girl that shows you the least bit of attention"
He smiles at heartbreak,
And fights finality with lies
But hates staying,
They can't face the devil with clear eyes.

Dance with me,
so baby maybe you'll see,
my bright points,
and my poorly rolled joints,
dance with me in every way,
I can hope with your eyes,
and I want you to stay,
going through a beautiful loop,
we try not to,
take your hand and dance in lieu,
the fact I never could stay,
but in the end I'm just a child,
and I'll always be this way.
Marry me.

Another night,
Messages on Skype,
Laughing at robotic replies,
A robot that needs to deny,
And then sends a link to a webcam site,
He likes to laugh at his own responses
Every night,
He tells the ai you are violating the three laws,
But all he hears is his own laughing applause,
Same 4 responses he reads everytime,
But nevertheless he comes up with a more and more witty line,
He gets fired and drinks more,
The messages are coming in but still the same 4 responses from the night before,
Then drunk and sad wanting to throw his phone,
He gets a message saying, "come see my **** cams baybay"
He types in all caps, "*******!
LEAVE ME ALONE YOU PROGRAM, SPECIALLY TODAY"
The robot responds,
"Are you ok?"

She said so go,
halfway through the show,
she was a nut but exciting all the same,
I ran like a scared kid running from the word no,
but I turned and asked to stay,
for this was always her play,
and I was just an extra,
but I couldn't and I came walking back fast,
I couldn't let our scene and sunrise fade into the past,
halfway mad,
halfway sad,
I asked her to stay,
with a smile and a tear in her eyes,
I held her hand,
at a Lake in Montauk we watched the skies,
our own doomsday sunrise.

You kept changing from one door to the next,
I couldn’t reach you in time like every ex,
You’d step through a door and I would try to fallow,
But every room had been cleared and hallow,
I reached finally and grabbed your arm and looked in the eyes,
And you were beautiful,
But you said you need to go,
With eyes of hate and anger was now all you could show,
And to let to let go of her arm,
I begged you to please don’t,
And you said you wont,
My satellite ran into your semi in the sky,
And we both flew down to earth,
So I let go of your arm.

I walked into the dark cafe,
or was it bar?
thick with smoke, blood and confidence,
you could only see so far,
but I could see angst looking at their glass,
and nostalgia was dazed,
stuck thinking aboot yesterdays,
forever searching through a maze,
with no exit,
sadness is sitting with anxiety,
in between silences they talk aboot society,
while happiness tells me to smile,
with a certain style,
I tell them I need a beer,
or was it a coffee?
I do smile.
Anger comes up and tries to start a fight,
but redemption feeling the need to do right,
breaks it up,
To much noise and a black eye,
I say with a smiling sigh,
Time to write.

I see the grey over Reno, From my window on top of my mind, The greycast feels over this town, Like fingers of gold feeling a head, As the down is placed down, Its fall and winter intertwined, And its on everybody's mind, We all here for reasons we don't want to say, So we all stay, Looking at the lights, and the vacation, We look at them like a ****** looks at *******, Full of wonder and hope, Yet outside our grey place we wouldn't beable to cope, "its raining in Reno and it won't ever stop", Said the ***** to the cop, As the sun began to rise, A poet writes, A knowitall admits it lost it's love during the fall, A singer and business man on a teenager lookout fumble nervously with buttons and zippers, While a Cinderella wonders how hell find her without loosing her slipper, A lover looks at her lust through the oversized windows on the bus, An awkward kid stays awake, wondering if he could be smooth, A girl with beautiful eyes, walks down the street with headphones playing jazz, A honest man question his lies, And an old woman and a young actor are singing a tune long dead, But they can't get each other out their head, All looking at the grey, Almost to say, Its always going to be this way

Being loved,
when no one asked,
is a weird feeling.

Sponsor numbers,
and Ibprophen,
reading,
feeding,
what's for breakfast tomorrow?
Hope with a guilty side,
Chinaski hidden in a,
recovery library,
words to the poet,
a secret vice,
are nostalgic tremors,
a giggle for the unknown,
terminal uniqueness,
and a desk map with no ****,
pray for the piggly wiggly roommate,
the hope overpowers the guilt,
and the coffee makes,
me smile,
a good day,
a better,
turn,
click.