9.15.11 (library)

i see a man

staring

at his reflection;

a dirty glass window

reflecting

a dirty man

i see his eyes

tired

sad

exhausted

staring at the eyes

staring back from the glass

i see him look closer

examing the

blemishes

and scars

that occupy his face

sad

tired

exhausted

i see the man look

once more

then i realized i've walked too far

and turn back

9.15.11 (someday)

i came to visit her

i think as i stare

from the window of the library

watching raindrops

fall

is it fall?

fail

i guess i did

i wanted time

i figured

someday

but now theres another

and its someday

fall?

i guess i did

someday

9.12.11 (poem on a plane)

Everyone thinks they're an artist;

the gold and the gritty,

the fat and the pretty.

Everyone wants to be heard;

listen, I say, I will tell you the truth:

we've all lost what drew us to art.

Limitless inspiration has turned to dust;

fleeting moments between coffee and coke.

Some would like to think otherwise, phonies.

The battle is long lost.

Everyone wants to believe they are different;

everyone wants to be an artist.

9.5.11 (onward)

this world is a cold dark place

no matter what we always want to leave someday

but when you run and try to hide

theres still a hunger you can't satisfy

so you look for something to fill the void

yeah, another face to be your toy

i know that someday i will die

and i hope that on that day someone will cry

as sure as the sun will shine and set

i know there will be things i'd like to forget

well i'll just have to learn to live with regrets

there was a time i would have died for you

i would have done everything that i possibly could do

but you surround yourself with other's troubles

and when you've got plenty of your own, the weight just doubles

and then you dive right into another struggle

just another problem on your plate for you to juggle

i know i tried to care for yours and mine

i sure hope i did the best with all that time

and i know every day won't be the best

but i know that there will always be a next

and so i guess i'll just have to learn to live with regrets

8.10.11 (revenge)

tardy nice girl

late to notice

blank on most days

but you know this

moving on

i'm moving out

quick to leave

quicker to scream and shout

another love begins

and so another life

i can't support you

although i try

and i can't help it if i find myself

hoping for the worst for you

i've tried to be supportive

like a kind persons supposed to do

i mean, its not that i hate you

i just don't love you anymore

a reign of silence

and yet i'm glad

moving on to

the best times i've ever had

full of friends

days so full of fun

on the road

and in the sun

but i've not forgotten

the tardy nice girl

who ripped right through me

and through my world

and i can't help it if i find myself

hoping for the worst for you

i've tried to be supportive

like a kind persons supposed to do

i mean, its not that i hate you

i just don't love you anymore

8.10.11 (regret)

staring out into nothing

eyes wide, on the open sky

looking out, looking back, looking forward for something

a place, a time; another life: a memory

but its gone, so far away

in the middle of the night, i am wide awake

so many times, i wish i'd stayed

forever doubting the choices i've made

a thousand times along the way

i've let some other fill these hazy days

should i be worried, should i be sad?

that it's these lonely dreams i always have

maybe someday

maybe someday

maybe someday

8.10.11 (remorse)

i should have seen it coming

its happened so many times before

i've never been very good at playing games

but i haven't got the nerve to end them

these calloused hands do copulate

its always something about

the way the way the way the way the way the way

and it continues till the sour end

when we admit we are no longer friends

another time, another game i've played

a word of apology, i can never say

but weeks go by, and now another says

its something about

the way the way the way the way the way the way

3.20.11 (low)

i'm not feeling very nice today

i don't want to speak a word to a single face

no, i don't feel like talking, just getting away

i need to just get out of this place

i'm sick of seeing all the wrong people

sick of the rats, the snakes, and the weasels

i'm starting to think i made the wrong choice

as i comb my thoughts, searching for my voice

i guess i probably should not go back home

i mean, maybe i really am better off alone

or maybe i'll just go to a place that i don't know

i guess it won't matter when i've turned to stone

3.30.11 (in dreams)

I had a dream and you were in it

i could hear you breathing in the sky

you called out and so i followed

in my arms i wrapped you from behind

over time your smell had changed

i whispered quiet in your ear

"i'm heading home soon" i said

"i can't believe you won't be here"

i'm sorry that i will miss it

i'll phone when the time has come

but i know you will not answer

from their drinks you will go numb

yet still i cannot help but wonder

of how your night is gonna be

so i sit and so i think

until morning washes you clean

the wave is crashing now beside me

then i am jarred up from my slumber

and in the light of the morning sun

i stare off and i remember

(happy birthday)

2.18.11 (over)

dried blood on your fingers

mistaken for dirt

from cracks in your heart

that cause it to hurt

you've been working all night

to fix what you can not repair

but you try and you fail

and now you're pulling out hair

the rift it grows larger

the void filled up dark

walking quicker now

to the other end of the park

the fragments of love once there

that occupy the cracks

they gleam and they glisten

in a sickening black

you are hollow now

i still hear your name

carried from mouths by the wind

and the hair on my neck still stands for a moment

as i turn and walk away