its an all time
line in the sand.
a prize fighter with
a weak chin. swings
so fast he knocks
himself over.

if i could write the next
great american novel
maybe i could get
some rest. but i do enjoy
the comfort
in knowing
how out of reach it
all feels.

i can finally die
on the highway
while every other
fool like me
gets to ride
the tread in my
wounds.

its always been
about the chase.

dont forget.

i dont feel like
jumping in front of cars
anymore, at least not
yet, i put my
flaws on hold
to feel 15 again.

i go for a
walk along a
path ive taken
before, many
times even.
i am new
but there is
old blood
in these veigns
that hide deep.

i dont feel like
jumping in front of cars
anymore. i still
remember the
thought, the feeling.
sometimes that can be
enough.

i am in debt to
peace and i owe it
more
than i have.
but its taken
too long to break
even. i scored
no points
and tied the game
still.

theres a
crater in the
moon i see
tonight. a
firm reminder
that i am
only good
if im giving.

a man tells
me there are no
trees here, but i
see them all
the time. we must
be in two
different places.

oh brother
i wait for love like
a ship at sea.
and a hellstorm
brews like a
witches potion.
i sip quickly
it is more than
enough to
take.

i never understood,
until now,
the appeal of
dying old.
on a porch swing,
dog at my lap
brew to my right.

it seemed so
useless to me.
until i saw
the sun set
a second time.
i never catch
a first glance.
i grow fond
for a second look.

i am so tired
of the hawks
that are bound
to my chest with
wire pulling my
baby skin away
from me. i am
too scared to
let them leave
my sight.

i have kept
fright inside for
too long. i
thought i had
something to lose
but that already
left too.

all the
good things
in life have
somewhere to be

and i am
in my childhood
bedroom weaning
off the milk.
writing poems
for no one.
for myself.

it is mid july
and hotter than sin.
some friends and i
drove to the beach
to watch the shore
erode.

i drank some gin
and we talked about
television. i laughed
like i would die
tomorrow.

when we left
and my feet were
******
i couldnt help but
remind myself
that i was happy.

and on the drive home
two friends kiss
in the back like
you do when you
think you have it
figured out
and all you want
is the whole world
and its staring back
at you and even smiles
if you kiss it on
the mouth.

and all i could
think about is the boy
i was mean to as
a child and how
he died before i
could ever say
sorry and really
mean it.

i cant help but
twist a knife
if i see one.

i told the girls at work about
time spent with jane.
they seemed awfully excited
for me.
maybe they could smell
that jane is new,
but familiar

like a car bought
used. she is barely driven
though. i still drive over
the skids i left from
trying to stop
too quick. you can see
my tread worn out like
sanded wood.

or maybe they could
smell the hope like dew on
the morning grass.
fresh but dangerous.
waiting
to trip me with my eyes
set ahead but not infront.
theyll leave the wire
right where they
got me the last time.

it would be an honor
to be fooled
by something so sweet
to the touch. it almost feels
alien
to not be so upset
by the way the weather
dictates my evenings.

i do not FEEL like i used to.
my love and guilt
helix and weave like code.

i would only kiss you now,
if it brought back the one i poisoned.

i live in a farm upstate now
like a dead house dog.
if ive really moved on
know that i did the impossible
we'll be better off for it.

and if things never work out with
jane, you best pray
someone loves me when im dead
cause they sure as hell
dont love me
now.