9.18.12 (easy)

an anvil
has fallen
from my throat
to my stomach;
from my heart,
from my head,
to my core.
silence,
for the sake
of being,
for the sake,
of most.
turning off
the voice
inside
that is screaming,
for the one
that cares not
of false sentiment.
tuning in
to the voice
that speaks
of easy times,
of coasting,
of apathy,
of words that float on water.
untrue,
but easy.

9.18.12 (twinge)

within
strange confines
do thoughts
tingle and
twinge
and sprout;
and ideas
like trees
grow
or die
and i am left
lost somewhere
inside.

9.18.12 (cool)

hope
in the hearth,
in time;
past.
streams
of cool water
pass over
jagged rock
and i.
ever present,
ever onward.

8.29.12 (matchless)

i am shouting
a sound
a name.
red hair,
brown eyes,
skin that is pale.
your voice,
your scent.
the sounds
of the streets
on a warm
brooklyn night.
the taste
of cigarettes
on your lips
and mine.
an evening
long, warm.
a morning,
short, haunting.
if i could only
remember
your name.

9.18.12 (thickness)

i leave
the room
upon
your entry,
not to avoid
you
but to avoid
the words
that would be
said
if i did not.

i walk
away
not by choice
but for
you
and for
him.

none of this
is easy,
but neither
very hard
it's like
forgetting
you've
forgotten,
something you'd known
all along.

9.11.12 (barter)

rivers flowing
full of
hiding in corners
but in plain sight
picturing
all i can do.

waiting for something
anything, anyone
things to pull
to gravitate
to push me
further or farther
away.

feeling flighting
fleeting uncertainty
a wish to come home
but home is no one
and home is no where
for me

fighting to stay afloat
in a world filled with
life boats.
trying to keep up
with all of you but
i can't help
when it's sink or
swim.

trying, i guess
to do something more
to escape this pattern
this boring routine
this incessant
on and on
nothing.

haunted by hope
by time and memory
by future, by past,
knowing nothing will last
i am waiting, always waiting,
for something.

9.11.12 (oooooooooooO)

hope
it held me
like a knife
to my throat;
her name:
the apple
in my eye,
the frog
trapped
in my throat.
the knife,
it touched skin;
the apple
gone;
the frog
on the run.
still,
your name
courses
within
these veins.

9.7.12 ( wannabe strokes song)

nothing much
never a peep to say
but i
get all weird when you come my way
started soft
started like a friend
couple months
and now i want you back

well i can't say i don't miss you yet,
and i
i can't say i ain't into it
but i
i do mean it when i say
i don't want to
i don't
don't want to
no

accidental
we should have never been
friends at first
but lovers when we did
try to recover
tried to leave it all
but no one
forgave me and i can't forget it all

so
i can't say i don't miss you yet
and i
i can't say i ain't into it
but i
i do mean it when i say
i don't want to
i don't
don't want to
no

take me far
take me far from here
forget my future
tell em that i'm weird
erase my sorrow
please erase my past
cause if you don't
i fear in this town i will not last
no!

i can't say
say i don't miss you yet
and i
i can't say i ain't into it
but i
i do meant it when i say
i don't want to
i don't
don't want to
no
i don't want to
i don't
don't want to
no no!

9.2.12 (squeak)

from
chapped lips,
squeak
words.
quiet,
but steady.
chatter
incessantly
filling
the
creaks
and
cracks
of these
lost walls.
waves
of
cold
and warmth
bombarding.
still,
yes,
still.

9.2.12 (forests, from dust)

forests
from dust
and
still
one sound
resonates
these desolate
halls.
minutes
to months
still
an image
floods
these gates.
faces,
many faces,
fill
what was left
but for
how long?
wait,
lingering.