my hometown waits for me
like a lover
on the wrong side of a passing train window.

ill be back
but i wont be the same.

and we'll both be disappointed
in each other.

Every morning I wake to bleeding fingers.
I sleep on a bed made from loose grenade pins.
Just reminders of a past life.
A former self.
Traits and abilities I haven't unlocked yet.

I will never be enough.

Even a glass full of water
Looks empty
From far enough away.

A year ago today, I sat on my bed.
Singing love for a girl who would never reciprocate.
She sure liked to say she would though.

Today however, a new leaf.
I sat and laughed with friends, over sushi.
A new city.
A new mind.
Jokes and banter float as high
As the I love you's
That came back around to bite
Like cheques that bounce.

You only really learn from pain
And I've learnt a lot
In such a short time.
But I always wake up
Before a bad dream gets too real
So I'm not that worried.

I bought groceries today,
and held my bags in my hands
while i waited for my car to arrive.
leaning by the carts
bundled in a winter coat
cursing the wind
watching the family's walk in and out.

A cashier walks out and stands beside me
Bags under her eyes, a little smile
She comments on the cold weather
and lights up a smoke.
coughing with each breath.
A few more puffs
and she throws it on the pavement
and goes back to work.
the smoke still rises
I am still waiting
for my car.

A garbage man walks up to me
he smiles brightly, his eyes big and warm.
and says that mother nature only got it half right today,
the suns out but its too **** cold.
I chuckle and nod as he removes the filled trash from the can
"she never loses that ******* does she? I think she likes us cold"

"haha, I guess so!"
We exchange a smile, and he goes off to the next can.

I wait for my car.

The cigarette that the cashier left is still burning
the wind pushed it back to the door
And I watch closely as every leg danced around it
and every wheel rolled beside it.
The smoke kept coming.

A family of three exits the store
a handsome man in his mid thirties
and a burgundy coat pushed the cart with his wife
while his young son walked ahead of them.
The son pulled out a flyer and began to read
His father approached him
and ripped it from his hand,
crumpled it
and threw it in the garbage beside me.
He looked his son in his eyes
"you're being ridiculous"

They kept walking
The smoke kept rising
The can isn't empty anymore
and I'm still waiting for my car.

Sometimes walking against the wind is the only way to get home

If you follow all the sirens
and the red flags
you'll see what the news papers would call a man
but not really.
just a boy with a beard
pretending he knows how to put things back together
pushing the people he loves towards alcoholism
like it was all he was good for


//


I used to think love triumphed over all
But I'm starting to doubt the sincerity
of love
and all its trimmings.

Why do we romanticize love
It's not ever the fever dream we hype it up to be.
It's vulnerability in it's purest form
It's done more harm than good.

I'm selling my stocks on love

I'm done pretending I understand how the world works.
I'm done celebrating before I cross the finish line.
I'm done believing in something that I'm not sure is real.

I'm selling my stocks on love.

if the world were ever fair
they'd let me build a tree house
to lose my mind in.

and my pretend children
might build a counterweight
to pull the sun down.
betroth it in front of me
to keep the wolves away
at the gates, far from the crops
they tell me ive harvested.

i wake to
the rhythm of the birds.
its a day ill live
and forget.
it starts with
grey rain but i have
nothing to do
other than drink
with friends
so what does it matter.

i do not walk alone.
i am not drunk
i can still see the work.
there is real forgetting
going on, and i am sleeping
there. i have made
my peace with battles.
just let me drink
with friends.

i end in bed,
shaking to old wounds.
a creature from the
water, i cant swim
so i cant be hurt. it saves
lives and i need saving.
only a match that
perfect could end
so poorly.

Dust of the earth
Put fear in my heart
And black in my eyes.
How blessed I've been
To live a life so short
And play so many roles.

I've played the bull.
I've played the victim.
I've been the bull.
I've been the victim.

A tac pricked through a wool shirt
Keeps the sunlight out of my room.
I watch the black paint boil over.

Being everyone makes me nobody.

Finding the line
And walking it.
Not giving a ****
Which side I fall into.

Kids like me die
Because of
Kids like me.

if you want a true lesson
in disappointment
move to a small town
and watch the power go out.

this like many things
is nothing like the movies.

i still tucked her letter away
even if she managed to contradict
all of its contents.
a heroic feat.
maybe her best work.

A *** and coke
On a Sunday evening.
The perfect prize
For a vacation I'm paying for.

My first drink runs through me
Like blood does
But I still remember the dates
Like tattoos in my eyelids.
Images and memories I could never unsee.

A therapy session with an empty chair beside me.
Begging for somebody.
The headache wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

i wear my nice sweater
for the performance.
but i still put on the makeup
the wig
the shoes.
never let anyone
decide when im ready
even me.

i danced for my supper.
and ate it with the fork
from the road that divides me.

two tall blondes
brought me flowers
we took pictures.
i left the roses at the show

i worry about my purpose a lot.
it's a pretentious thing to write down i know.
but if i didnt have purpose to contemplate
than all the screwdrivers downed
would be for nothing
all the evenings still in bed
would be for nothing
all of my short comings
would be for nothing.

if there's no corner piece
for me to slide into,
i might just bang my head into my desk
until i cant feel it anymore.

I get mad behind the wheel sometimes.
I see ghosts instead of stop signs.
I see tombstones instead of churches.
But once in a blue moon
God sends me a voicemail,
And lets me know
That he's already tucked in the sheets.
That he's already fluffed the pillows.

whoever said
that too much
of a good thing
isnt
a good thing,

clearly hasnt
spent enough
time
without one

i could really
go for too much
of a
good thing
right about now.

i turn 19 today.
i feel the same
as 18
which felt alot
like 17
not much different
from 16 either.

i feel my age
i see my wall
i see the light
behind it.

a january's chill made her breath spring out like steam from a kettle.
she faltered through the crag
with only the ring of a church bell
and the caw of a raven to sway her mind from the numbing cold
that swallowed her ears, and cemented her eyes
in a fairy tale that could only pick the grey from the rainbow.
a band aid over a calloused hand, placed some lavender on my castle walls.
i would have brought roses, she said.
but i waited too long.
a lone dilatory tear hit stone and to her surprise the earth did not crumble.

I'm proud to say that I figured out
Where the corner piece is
That fills out that puzzle
Of a blood red farm, with a haystack,
And a glistening sun.
A life we only see in loathing.
A shelf too high
For our stubby arms
To reach.

A table covered with chase
And playing cards
Plays the gatekeeper
For stories I've never heard before.
Blank cheques and white space.
Room for error
Room for improvement.

Shallow gold doesn't exist
And its never worth much anyway.
Whats real lies far
Under the mud.
And if you find it
You dont let it go.

I do find it rather funny how quick one can forget
Something that felt oh so important.
The first day of school.
The score of a football game.
The sound of her voice.

Her melodies no longer play through my mind
My ears no longer perk up like a dog to the thought of her words.
I can’t hear her anymore.
And I can’t decide which side of the coin I’d rather be looking at.

i will never go to virginia.
because in my mind it loves me
and i love virginia.

and ive never been
and ill never go.

green on the eyes,
warm on the flesh.
how could i burden such a place
with my expectations
my preconceived notions
with no preconception.

i know nothing about virginia
it can be anything i want it to.
beauty incarnated in a long narrow field
empty as hell below.
a blank cheque just waiting for me to fall in love.
i wont let it fool me.

some serial killers return to the scenes of their crimes;
i just buy train tickets
and fall asleep on the shoulders of strangers.
as though we were in love,
as though it were ordinary.

and when we wake up
we'll laugh it off
and she'll say sorry,
and that train rides just make her sleepy.
ill say that's okay,
i didn't really mind.

Asylum white walls
Bear a single feather.
A work of art.

I am left all alone again.
Peace and tranquility.

Spoon feeding ******
That tastes more like maple syrup
And relief
Than anything I've ever known.

The rift at my feet
almost made me forgot
how beautiful it was
to watch the band play on.

i bought beer
for the first time today.
ive never been drunk before.
that's not hyperbole
or some kind of metaphor.
ive literally never been drunk before.

never been me.
i just know what it does
and what it would do to me.
but here we are
the end of whatever is left.

i cut my hand on the cap
when i put it in my bag.

i slide down a mud hill
to get to the bus

the bus driver
wouldn't let me back on the bus.
it was the same ******* bus driver
that handed me the transfer
to take the ******* bus home.

i dont think god wants me to buy beer

It's always the calm before the storm
But never after.
Restoring a home
Made from dampened wood
And bayonets
That look a lot like
Things you'd say.

Sitting passenger side
While your coworkers crack jokes
And for a second,
Nothing.
Just a chuckle,
A brief indulgence
Followed by a wave of anguish.
Call and response.
And you realize
That this is what moving on feels like.

ive never been hungover
ive been drunk, but never
hungover. i just wake up fine like
nothing happened because
nothing happened i just drank. and what of it?

i drink water too. when i get home
ill swing the cupboards
open and try my best to find the
best cup. the only one
that can hold what will take me out of
the haze in my eyes.

//

i finally bought a painting for my apartment
it was small enough to take
home so i did. i
ran my hands all over my empty walls
felt the paint bumps in the drywall.
god, you could be anywhere. so i
put you in my room i kept you
for myself only my space can
feel like home now.

i cannot write for **** anymore.
i have lost my ability to compel.
to even express.
anything and everything i feel is hiding from me
in some part of my body ive never reached
because it knows what i will do if i catch it.
rip out its inside like squishing a blueberry.
just a quick meal until i am off to **** its friends.
i am no tortured artist, just trying to shield.
i cant wait to read this in a year and applaud
for subtle progress, but me and i my friend
are stuck in different muds.

I watch the same white car drive by my window
Every day.
Each time, a little muddier.
Life is the most vicious of circles.
A whole structure of bells and whistles
Too deep under concrete
For our already ****** hands to dig up.

Is it truly a deja vu
If you're really seeing it again?

I lick clean the cold plate they serve revenge on.

The Devil is real
I made it breakfast.

i am too aware of my own image to be who i am.


i dont know who i am


i shaved my beard off the other day.
ive never made a bigger mistake.
i look like a child.
i am a child.
i never want to look like a child.

my neck looks bigger
my face appears to be melting.
i guess thats what
was under all the wool.

i dont have the ***** to live like bukowski
and if i did
i wouldnt be bukowski anyway.

ill be honest in saying
i dont know anything
and the things i have learned
came at the expense
of something i thought i knew.
theres a knife in my stomach
two right hands around the grip
two lefts pointing blame at one another