my grandfather told me
that i was full of ennui

he said that he could see it in my poems.
he could see it spreading
like moss
from the space between the sentences and the
ends of them

he said that it slid from my ears
like life
from another man,
hung up on some perpendicular problem

he said it was present in my eyes.
like the sky,
what once was blue
is now  gray

he felt it in my sleeve,
reaching out to meet his hand
and grip it,
without enthusiasm

he told me that it was familiar.
that its face had worn him,
this ennui

Am I it,
or is it I?

"You are full of Ennui,"
my grandfather said to me

"no"
i told him
"everyone else is."

He laughed,
without enthusiasm.

the moon and the sky
began to cry
dotting the sky's completion with tears
burning millions of miles away

the sky,
because his love,
the sun,
has run away with the sea.
she submerged herself
in his green eyes

the moon,
because her love,
the sky,
is blinded by the blushing sun.
he's haunted by his white-tipped fingers
on her bronze skin

Neither of them realize
that they cry for the same sadness.
Neither of them
See
that they are already holding each other

my glass accomplice
cups his filthy shinning hands
to hold tonight's crime

as i fill his bowl
with a rusty dancing flame
i stop his screaming

my lips on his mouth
the flame in his head grows bright
smoke spins in my lungs

these are my matches
bones in a box
this is what's left
of my last pair of socks
this is my nose
choked up and dripping
this is my grip
rapidly slipping

in this, my prelude to winter
i miss the sun of summer
when the clock won't keep up with the drummer
and the tension is tight in the springs
i miss the sweet sun of summer
in this, my prelude to winter
and the clock won't keep up with the drummer
the tension is tight in the springs

These are the snow flakes
caught in a frenzy
This is the feeling
that loneliness lends me
These are my eyes
this is my shoe
both are now worn
both are still blue

there's nothing to do
but watch the leaves fall in flames
watch the leaves fall in flames

in this, my prelude to winter
i miss the sun of summer
when the clock won't keep up with the drummer
and the tension is tight in the springs
i miss the sweet sun of summer
in this, my prelude to winter
when the clock won't keep up with the drummer
and the tension is tight in the springs

I can never feel the thing i say
and what I write is just a shade
a patch of color without an outline

The outline was carried away by smoke one night
that night she cried
that night she loved
that night she did nothing at all
they were all the same night

This past year has been that night
i fell asleep
I feel asleep
i want to wake up
but if I did, what would happen to this dream?
these familiar colors
this familiar air.
I feel as if I wake up
there will be no air
or worse, no color.

I'll make excuses about the stars
i'll say i never want my eyes to stray
i'll say i never want to go away
but i'm still not here

I'll say
"leave me,
this heart needs to bleed
else how could it beat?"
I'll eat a star to burn my heart.
to teach it to beat while it burns
under rising smoke

I apologize if you're scared by sparks

My eyes closed.
I search gently through the darkness for your face
like a blind man.
My lips open,
I find your sighing, smiling face
in the dark.
My arms flung,
I explore you slowly with screaming fingers
like a blind man.
My feet flexed,
I feel bursts of light in orange and blue
in the dark.
My legs hot,
I laugh with what lies under our fingers
like a blind man.
My self bare,
I wear nothing but your legs and lips
in the dark.

It's raining outside
and
These beautiful things
shining through my tears
will feel the drops
but never know my fears
how could they if I don't?

Rain drops
Falling from the trees
into the sky
and you never ask why
ignore the dots in the sky
they're not there

Rain  falls
on tattooed tough guys
littering sidewalks with spit
say they're trying to quit
cigs for the sixth time
and he's tired of lie
tied together to hide
his head when he cries
from better eyes

It's raining outside
Slight stirrings before sunrise
split seconds of conscientiousness
before slipping into a sea of dreams
I always have the most vivid dreams
while the sun is rising

It's raining outside
but not in here
not in my head
not in my bed