I need to get over you,
But life is cruel and pushes us together like boats
borne back ceaselessly into the past.
I need to get over you,
But guilt hits me like bullets.
I need to get over you,
But I already know you love New York and turf cuts and
caramel coated cherry stems.
I need to get over you,
But I look so cool
with American flags over
my eyes and, hey, we're finally seventeen.
I need to get over you,
But you changed two of those
presets just to not miss me.
And no one knows why anyone likes baseball
or falling in love
or stealing musky sweatshirts and
falling asleep.
I need to get over you,
but cops find us and we're out
past curfew
and "All we did was sit
close to each other, officer, I promise."
Just drinkn' & dreamin' the
longer I run.
I need to get over you,
But you're so warm and I'm so
cold and it just fits
together like it should.
And I can't help but laugh and make
a mess of myself.
But you change your mind so fast.
When will be the next time?
I need to get over you.
-July 26, 2013
Friday, March 21, 2014
Sun Kissed Dreams
It started hot and passionate and blinding.
Then it ran,
ran from me
faster than the alpine highway or
an Afro over your cute lisp.
And a bus leaves for 13 colonies and 14 days and
pictures are all I have.
Colorful but in
50 shades of grey.
Then never a breath from you
on the home front.
And disappointment marks my eyes.
Running all over town with eyes
like video cameras and
minds like a metal detector.
We wish we could be a fly on the wall or a plant in the earth or a new hair on your chin.
All moments,
every moment,
we know.
My fiend.
Detect this on your police detector.
Little blue Honda that looks tan in the sun.
White Camry.
Up the street then back down.
Serpentine through the neighborhoods
hoping to see a familiar body,
but not be seen ourselves.
Every day
till July 15.
Then waving goodbye to an empty house I once knew.
Where I stayed too long and talked too much about nothing.
Too many memories to remember and flash before my heart.
Then I blink and they're gone and we've passed it.
And finally I've mimicked Taylor Swift
and wrote a song about Paris.
And boys in Montreal.
Late hours. Early hours.
All hours.
Spent engulfed in our own music from our minds.
Military men. Marines that cheat and break hearts.
not enough sleep.
Lots of tire on asphalt.
Up and down and up and down and back again.
Not enough French
and a brand new white iPhone.
And the sun sets on another day
and still the one thing I want
doesn't go my way.
Then it ran,
ran from me
faster than the alpine highway or
an Afro over your cute lisp.
And a bus leaves for 13 colonies and 14 days and
pictures are all I have.
Colorful but in
50 shades of grey.
Then never a breath from you
on the home front.
And disappointment marks my eyes.
Running all over town with eyes
like video cameras and
minds like a metal detector.
We wish we could be a fly on the wall or a plant in the earth or a new hair on your chin.
All moments,
every moment,
we know.
My fiend.
Detect this on your police detector.
Little blue Honda that looks tan in the sun.
White Camry.
Up the street then back down.
Serpentine through the neighborhoods
hoping to see a familiar body,
but not be seen ourselves.
Every day
till July 15.
Then waving goodbye to an empty house I once knew.
Where I stayed too long and talked too much about nothing.
Too many memories to remember and flash before my heart.
Then I blink and they're gone and we've passed it.
And finally I've mimicked Taylor Swift
and wrote a song about Paris.
And boys in Montreal.
Late hours. Early hours.
All hours.
Spent engulfed in our own music from our minds.
Military men. Marines that cheat and break hearts.
not enough sleep.
Lots of tire on asphalt.
Up and down and up and down and back again.
Not enough French
and a brand new white iPhone.
And the sun sets on another day
and still the one thing I want
doesn't go my way.
Finding Heroes in the Middle of Nowhere
The wind whistles past my ear drums and
I am surrounded by green wind chimes,
it seems.
Crack, crack, rustle.
and a pile of fake animal bones.
Climb on them,
to the very top until the world is yours and you can see all the way back to the beginning.
Elephant Graveyard.
Four babies that bathe in the dirt and breathe in
white life.
Blue for you and you and you.
But not you.
Brown. Odd one out.
Come lie on the chests of
almost mothers and
fall into darkness.
The epitome of beauty is to relive the dust bowl?
I suppose to
the plaid men it is.
But not the depression or the
black and white photographs.
Lightning flashes inside green
canvas and
five girls scream with glee
and two girls' recognition
brings deathless happiness.
And with glee, fight back the urge to run a marathon.
To run home.
To run through dust and sage brush
and dung and
dry dry dry.
Eyes watering for lush green
in this,
the epitome of beauty.
I am surrounded by green wind chimes,
it seems.
Crack, crack, rustle.
and a pile of fake animal bones.
Climb on them,
to the very top until the world is yours and you can see all the way back to the beginning.
Elephant Graveyard.
Four babies that bathe in the dirt and breathe in
white life.
Blue for you and you and you.
But not you.
Brown. Odd one out.
Come lie on the chests of
almost mothers and
fall into darkness.
The epitome of beauty is to relive the dust bowl?
I suppose to
the plaid men it is.
But not the depression or the
black and white photographs.
Lightning flashes inside green
canvas and
five girls scream with glee
and two girls' recognition
brings deathless happiness.
And with glee, fight back the urge to run a marathon.
To run home.
To run through dust and sage brush
and dung and
dry dry dry.
Eyes watering for lush green
in this,
the epitome of beauty.
Milky Way
This brick.
This bulging pocket of blue jean.
This song player, noise maker, memory saver.
Eternal space.
Secret keeper.
It's my life, this brick.
You think you can touch it? have it? hold it?
Let my secrets run along your nerves and scurry in between your brain cells?
No.
I would rather die an ignominious death and
rot a thousand years in the sea than
watch your eyes scan my life.
Search the deep caverns of my soul.
Watch your heart scream and hear the echoes of blood curdling madness.
Your fingers would burn as
you caress the suggestive sentences.
back and forth and
it comes naturally.
Sad truths.
Depressing facts.
You'd rather pour acid on your
eyes
and have them turn to
dust
than read the conversations,
I swear.
The ability to chirp
and make it appear as if it came from my own mouth?
Ridiculous.
I do not believe in ventriloquism.
Weak images
your eyes cannot behold.
I would feel exposed.
Like "The Woman" bathed
in wool and cloth and silk.
And under memos?
The secret to how my brain works.
Why would I desire you to know the short cut
to my vulnerability?
The grey box to my wiring and the scalpel to my heart.
It's the way my soul thinks.
And you can't know that.
This brick, bulge, memory saver,
it's my secret keeper.
The fidelius charm cast over my own self.
The secret is kept within
the very soul of my secret keeper.
Giving the password up is worthy of death.
You will never hold its life on your hands.
You will never see my
soul.
You will never know my
heart.
You Are Killing Me- I'm Sorry
Isn't it exhausting,
living with so much hatred?
Not being able to let go
and forgive someone who once meant everything to you?
Doesn't it burn your skin and seer through your bones?
Eat you away?
Or have you changed too much
from the man I once new?
Now your heart has become numb.
living with so much hatred?
Not being able to let go
and forgive someone who once meant everything to you?
Doesn't it burn your skin and seer through your bones?
Eat you away?
Or have you changed too much
from the man I once new?
Now your heart has become numb.
Because of Her
I look at you and I realize, I don't know you anymore.
Gaunt eyes,
malicious lips,
gnashing teeth,
wicked heart.
The hollow shell of a memory, you are.
But that's all you are.
You can't hold my heart anymore,
your hands are too bitterly frozen.
You can't make e smile anymore,
your jokes are weak,
pathetic,
cursed,
vindictive.
You've disguised the beautiful rose in bushes of thorns,
and that rose is now a weed.
And the candle under the bushel is melted.
Gone.
I was thinking about it today,
I look at you and I realize,
I don't know you anymore.
Goodbye, stranger.
-2012
Gaunt eyes,
malicious lips,
gnashing teeth,
wicked heart.
The hollow shell of a memory, you are.
But that's all you are.
You can't hold my heart anymore,
your hands are too bitterly frozen.
You can't make e smile anymore,
your jokes are weak,
pathetic,
cursed,
vindictive.
You've disguised the beautiful rose in bushes of thorns,
and that rose is now a weed.
And the candle under the bushel is melted.
Gone.
I was thinking about it today,
I look at you and I realize,
I don't know you anymore.
Goodbye, stranger.
-2012
Stained
Your feet have no longer stepped along the shiny finish of my floors.
Your smell, no longer seeped into the fabric.
Your awkward presence no longer lingers at the door.
My house is no longer the home you choose to pick.
Your love no longer resting on my bed.
I miss the way your laugh danced around my room,
it loved to kiss my silly head,
the chamber that is now your incarnate tomb.
When you see me, is it still hard to breathe?
When I touch you, does it make you just break down?
Does the way I hug you make it hard to see?
And in the scent of me, you love, you drown?
You're a good actor, fool. Jerk. Dope.
The way you're acting now is prime.
The way you act like I'm not there, that's what you hope.
And how you really cant see me. How I cry, inside.
Take me back, Imbecile!
We can kiss through the dawn.
Passionate love, kiss me unforgivable.
But you can't even love me when I'm gone.
Your smell, no longer seeped into the fabric.
Your awkward presence no longer lingers at the door.
My house is no longer the home you choose to pick.
Your love no longer resting on my bed.
I miss the way your laugh danced around my room,
it loved to kiss my silly head,
the chamber that is now your incarnate tomb.
When you see me, is it still hard to breathe?
When I touch you, does it make you just break down?
Does the way I hug you make it hard to see?
And in the scent of me, you love, you drown?
You're a good actor, fool. Jerk. Dope.
The way you're acting now is prime.
The way you act like I'm not there, that's what you hope.
And how you really cant see me. How I cry, inside.
Take me back, Imbecile!
We can kiss through the dawn.
Passionate love, kiss me unforgivable.
But you can't even love me when I'm gone.
Grammar Sam
Look at this fool.
This babbling fool that stands
over me.
A garden full of burning flowers
visible through his eyes,
but not through ear to ear.
The things that run from his mouth-
which I do not blame them from doing-
kill my brain cells.
He thinks I care.
All I want the former fool.
He who taught me all I know.
The walking book cover,
dictionary, Britannica.
The ultimate thesaurus, movie star.
Bob the Rabbit.
It's in its cage.
Say hi to Bob.
I admire you.
The temperature.
The west and east egg.
All I desire is again
to sit and look up and admirably
watch words spill out of his mouth.
Not these dead song birds
flying out of his.
Not this spineless man walking
on his tongue.
Not, Not,
Not him.
In the distance, a foghorn yells, "No one cares!"
but he is Hellen Keller's doppelganger.
I am slowly going brain dead......
black.
-2013
This babbling fool that stands
over me.
A garden full of burning flowers
visible through his eyes,
but not through ear to ear.
The things that run from his mouth-
which I do not blame them from doing-
kill my brain cells.
He thinks I care.
All I want the former fool.
He who taught me all I know.
The walking book cover,
dictionary, Britannica.
The ultimate thesaurus, movie star.
Bob the Rabbit.
It's in its cage.
Say hi to Bob.
I admire you.
The temperature.
The west and east egg.
All I desire is again
to sit and look up and admirably
watch words spill out of his mouth.
Not these dead song birds
flying out of his.
Not this spineless man walking
on his tongue.
Not, Not,
Not him.
In the distance, a foghorn yells, "No one cares!"
but he is Hellen Keller's doppelganger.
I am slowly going brain dead......
black.
-2013
Effaced
Every time i see you, my mind goes blank.
Frustratingly, so do all the things i wish to say to you.
For some reason, though, our memories still dance before my eyes.
As i think maybe the same thing has happened to you,
Curiously, i look into your ocean eyes. and what do i see?
Emptiness.
Dead. you killed us. i am dead to you.
-April 26, 2013
Frustratingly, so do all the things i wish to say to you.
For some reason, though, our memories still dance before my eyes.
As i think maybe the same thing has happened to you,
Curiously, i look into your ocean eyes. and what do i see?
Emptiness.
Dead. you killed us. i am dead to you.
-April 26, 2013
11:29 in Paris
The most beautiful woman we both
know
is Tequila.
She wears a glass dress
that clashes when she dances
Makes a high pitch
ringing noise.
Tip her over.
Spill her
out.
Tip her back and drink
in her life.
Then stay the night
until I can taste death and
then become born again.
Is it a sunrise in my room?
Or is that where the sun sets?
I dont know, so
you tell me.
My head is pounding
from this light. The
way it seeps into my brain and
tries to stay.
Push it out.
I want to run away.
Let's get on a plane and fly
to Paris.
Let's just go.
Forget the world
and leave the Greeks and
fugitive slaves behind. Let
them worry about
themselves.
Birds migrate
to a place that's warm and
inviting.
A giant bird of metal
descends into heaven.
A heaven on fire.
We can walk the streets.
The ones I want to dance on,
under the stars blanketed in
the dark sky.
The stars.
My stars. French Stars.
Do you ever just laugh at
them? The stars?
It's silly to think they go on
for eternity.
I just saw one fall.
Like your hand to mine.
Collide with the earth.
Defective star.
Ignorant mass of Sun.
Find me a place to sleep for the night.
Snow white
minus six.
The wasted sun will wake my wasted
eyes.
Then we can walk.
Till the ends of the earth begin
and we can stay in
the beloved
city so
long we could stand
at each painting at the
Louvre
for hours.
Listen to me as I attempt to
be a philosopher.
Look at me like you're listening,
and listening to Mona Lisa.
Then we can go dancing.
Outside.
And maybe we wont be cold.
This time.
And maybe,
just maybe,
it will rain.
know
is Tequila.
She wears a glass dress
that clashes when she dances
Makes a high pitch
ringing noise.
Tip her over.
Spill her
out.
Tip her back and drink
in her life.
Then stay the night
until I can taste death and
then become born again.
Is it a sunrise in my room?
Or is that where the sun sets?
I dont know, so
you tell me.
My head is pounding
from this light. The
way it seeps into my brain and
tries to stay.
Push it out.
I want to run away.
Let's get on a plane and fly
to Paris.
Let's just go.
Forget the world
and leave the Greeks and
fugitive slaves behind. Let
them worry about
themselves.
Birds migrate
to a place that's warm and
inviting.
A giant bird of metal
descends into heaven.
A heaven on fire.
We can walk the streets.
The ones I want to dance on,
under the stars blanketed in
the dark sky.
The stars.
My stars. French Stars.
Do you ever just laugh at
them? The stars?
It's silly to think they go on
for eternity.
I just saw one fall.
Like your hand to mine.
Collide with the earth.
Defective star.
Ignorant mass of Sun.
Find me a place to sleep for the night.
Snow white
minus six.
The wasted sun will wake my wasted
eyes.
Then we can walk.
Till the ends of the earth begin
and we can stay in
the beloved
city so
long we could stand
at each painting at the
Louvre
for hours.
Listen to me as I attempt to
be a philosopher.
Look at me like you're listening,
and listening to Mona Lisa.
Then we can go dancing.
Outside.
And maybe we wont be cold.
This time.
And maybe,
just maybe,
it will rain.
I Waited For You to Want Me Again
I cannot do this.
I fear.
I fear repetition.
Repetition that I crave, yet also repulses me at the same time.
An internal battle between neurons and ventricles and atriums.
My chest burst open today when I recognized the face
under that mocked brim and,
for two moments,
the Doppler effect was just something scientists invented to make themselves feel better.
But it all came crashing down without
the connection of soul windows.
Blue? Brown?
Who remembers.
Remember is such a simply complicated word.
I fear the anger
and the holes in the wall
and the murderous screams.
and ripping church out of ears and heart and mind.
cause that hurts.
I fear November.
My best and worst two days in heaven.
And how badly I would...do...want that to happen again.
Next I fear the eyeless,
lipstick,
lover of hands.
The shallow one with a faux deep soul.
The hypocrite.
Her acid words that burn through screens.
They rip away the moment they penetrate my skin and touch my heart.
I fear her disapproval.
because she will disapprove,
this I know.
Silver tongue like the snake.
Venom pointed at me, her sister.
Betrayed.
So she will disapprove and that means much.
Then I fear giving half of my heart,
that is his,
away.
Well, it wouldn't be half, because is it still dipped deep in love.
So a sixteenth of my heart-his heart- and that is still much.
For us.
It is just a crush. and that is it.
But isn't that how everything starts?
Tender pressings on your heart until they become the pulses and beats and poundings and crushing sensations.
Once.
Once.
Only once that has happened to me.
Still is.
And even if it is unrequited,
I fear losing that.
I fear fearing.
I fear rejection.
I fear losing the one thing that I care about.
and I fear not finding something.
Or finding it to only lose it in a few months time.
So I will refrain.
April 2013
I fear.
I fear repetition.
Repetition that I crave, yet also repulses me at the same time.
An internal battle between neurons and ventricles and atriums.
My chest burst open today when I recognized the face
under that mocked brim and,
for two moments,
the Doppler effect was just something scientists invented to make themselves feel better.
But it all came crashing down without
the connection of soul windows.
Blue? Brown?
Who remembers.
Remember is such a simply complicated word.
I fear the anger
and the holes in the wall
and the murderous screams.
and ripping church out of ears and heart and mind.
cause that hurts.
I fear November.
My best and worst two days in heaven.
And how badly I would...do...want that to happen again.
Next I fear the eyeless,
lipstick,
lover of hands.
The shallow one with a faux deep soul.
The hypocrite.
Her acid words that burn through screens.
They rip away the moment they penetrate my skin and touch my heart.
I fear her disapproval.
because she will disapprove,
this I know.
Silver tongue like the snake.
Venom pointed at me, her sister.
Betrayed.
So she will disapprove and that means much.
Then I fear giving half of my heart,
that is his,
away.
Well, it wouldn't be half, because is it still dipped deep in love.
So a sixteenth of my heart-his heart- and that is still much.
For us.
It is just a crush. and that is it.
But isn't that how everything starts?
Tender pressings on your heart until they become the pulses and beats and poundings and crushing sensations.
Once.
Once.
Only once that has happened to me.
Still is.
And even if it is unrequited,
I fear losing that.
I fear fearing.
I fear rejection.
I fear losing the one thing that I care about.
and I fear not finding something.
Or finding it to only lose it in a few months time.
So I will refrain.
April 2013
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