the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

A Whale Is Just A Big Fish

Tea tipped into bourbon and spilled into the early morning
Screaming with everyone,
Singing to no one.
I stacked these cups high
In hopes of reaching your bedroom
Where you counted purple sheep...
Yeah, I wouldn't hold my breath.

This was it, and it was happening fast
Losing the fire, but keeping the ash
Wrapped as tightly as your own
In paper that burn and froze on your front porch.
Yeah, I wouldn't hold my breath.

We all dream for the same sleep
But spend all day fraying until no ends can meet,
And this was mine.
Your old wooden steps crumpled like crushed cans
Between the paired cushions of your occupied couches,
All the while you rested to escape your present
As your pasts passed by, and we looked dead ahead.

And so I stole this moment,
Because the consolation was already my own.
Defeated, you unpotted his name
As real to me as what was taped to your doorframe;
Defeated, I took it down and in
It slowed and stopped in my veins.
We all dream for the same sleep,
I salt the porch and look for my own.

Thursday, December 15, 2016

Early Decision

A flash...

You saw the signs before it began,
And neglected the fragility of man;
You couldn't make a lower case
With so many checks, yet so imbalanced,
Pressed up against your nose--heads down.
Down, down, down...
So heavy with your ownership,
This plane is grounded.

Into your room, the echoes resounded
"Welcome back"
Pressed against the wall
With all your latent shame
Backwards, you walk into the fog
Until your trust fall
Was that of your pride, swallowed
Down, down, down...
So bittered in your openness
Your lips pucker,
Then your tongue shies away.

Into your throat, it mellowed and rounded
And beat back,
Exhausted against your paper cage
With all your latent shame
Backwards, your glasses start to fog
Until your trust fall
Was that of your hope, buried
Down, down, down...
So hidden in the smallest light.
This plane is grounded.

You don't want to stop writing,
But this plane is fucking grounded in





As if you knew it was coming.


A flash.

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Checking In

I hugged you in a dream last night.
You picked me up and pressed me against your lungs.
I could feel you breathing.
Maybe because I was holding my own,
Trying not to get sick as the world spun around me,
Or maybe it was because your mouth shot off with laughter,
So sincere that I could hear it...

I could hear it!

I could hear it.

Even as the echo chamber sustained your name,
It still dampened with time firmly stained onto my pillow.

Is this loss a perspective?

Maybe you've found something that escapes us all.
I exhale.

I miss you, friend.
Your silence was a subtle hint,
But now it's deafening.
And drowns out all but what scratches
The surface of your marble doorstep frozen solid.
Did you find something out there?
Because no one is coming in.

I just wanted to know, if that's okay...

Maybe you're with me
Or I'm right by you,
All I know is we're not here.
Taking sides with a herd of sheep
Or a pack of wolves
We're all the same,
Standing in the doorway,
Disappearing in unrecognized discretion.
No one even noticed you leaving...

I hugged you in a dream last night.
You picked me up and pressed me against your lungs.
But I could feel you breathing,
Only because it was my own.