Your Identy Is Safe Here

There was no Superman, but Waldo came late.
I'll keep in 6/8 if you can find it in time,
Acoustic beatbox over an indie bass grind.
He played her guitar under the pear tree
That took up a pocket of silver moonlight
Before losing the fight and then going to sleep.
We are related by virtue of the card and the cup
From Alpha to Zulu with the Foxtrot,
Strictly vinyl, scratching my itchy skin.
A warm summer night so honeycomb sweet
Coats over my skin, calling bloodsuckers less known.
So go on, tie your cape into the prettiest bow
To rest on your head while you sleep yourself home.

Ten at the Table

We balance on the concrete around the pool,
We take our plastic light-up chalices
And toast. Some ghosts live as reflections
At the bottom of the water.
Sometimes one cup of exorcism
Is simply not enough.
A new warm light clasped between my hands
Spills onto my lap before the wine
And between the crack in my lips,
Tight from holding back a smile.
But when you excuse yourself and walk away
And a smaller ghost gets carried away,
Maybe the reflection should have been more feared.
Maybe what was forgotten is forgetfully near.

Solar Electronica

I can show you what I meant to see
When reality won't hold my dreams,
When investments for the sake of pride
Can't ride out past the groaning gates.
The irony is rusting over
And it's hard enough to trust me sober,
So read me like the Sunday Times,
I'm eleven more just for a dime.

Heavier Than Water

All of the rudders are slowing now;
Our twirls are tangled in molasses
From dancing through the sweetest thing
I've been in for a while.
We are victims of imminent motion
In an ocean of pocket pictures
That shone bright in the red rockets we let free.
You are the blood, it seems to be,
That keeps my heart from freezing
After wading in the water for the best place to drown.
Now the stars start to fall and the ghosts get their gowns,
The calendar tips as she starts counting down.

Ironic

Ready strokes of a pen
Cramp in these digital synapses,
So a digital copy it remains,
Hanging like ready coats draped over my arm in
Dampening warmth to keep me from harming.
Now everything is stained monotone, colorless.
I hope not forget just where the sun is
Having left promissory notes on
Mountaintops and seascapes,
So I could save it all for later
In hopes of mercy for my leeway.

Behind The Moon

With my retinas still burnt from the oceanic luminescence,
I swayed back and forth until I washed up on shore.
Warmer water came waveless down my back
As it dissolved any salt still intact from before,
But I could still taste the flavor.
We savor what to say
Once the light turns shy from bluffing,
The seas recede a moment
Showing these eyes are safe from nothing.

Six Reasons Why...

An idea turns to light for a house on a hill,
Amidst the good morning marine layer chill.
Maybe I forgot to wake up...
Maybe an optimistic CD had too much to take up
Because there were no clouds today,
But we saw things in a different shade of light
(At a discounted price, six for forty-five).
We toppled over each other in laughter
Like the overlapping harbor waves
On the larger rocks that kept us safe.
With the credit of independence on the back of my head,
I found the value of bad dreams that drifted
Past the Mary without the mirror to look back.
I'm Frankly lucky to swim with the sharks,
They tear through tough skin
And cut straight to the heart.

Missing The Magic

Dreams gave you a castle in the smog
With a moat made of asphalt
And friendly ghosts under the table
That made the dinner setting float.
You always went straight for the dessert,
Fork and knife would scrape on the uneven porcelain
Until your appetite chipped off and stained the cloth.
Your possibilities turn into simple fractions
That reduce to flight plans and hour blocks.
You jump off, but can't get your career off of the ground.
I disappeared without an act and my applause never did sound.

Pretty Voice With A Melody

It opens to the picture in motion, out of sight.
Always in mind when you hold the door
And hands still gently press against the glass
In a lapse of distrust. Double-crossed,
Fingers behind the back
Just to keep yourself together.
Come in parts and fall apart
Like some 80's sitcom poorly shot,
But valued for its irony.
The reel squeaks on, unoiled where it touches,
But the emotion still slips through
With the help of a little fishing in warm rain
For what matters and what's true:
Your dreams are always cast
Before the lines can speak to you.

Watercolors

The paint brushes dry against the clouds
After gracing our faces with something twirled up,
That kicks up dust from the model set down below,
Building plans that made themselves
When ants moved on from hills.
The stains bleed into dissolving cotton
Candy melted in the carnival sun,
And lifeless birds learn to fly
Leaving a path of silly strung droppings
On the burnt sugar funnel cake stand.
The children cry in line for their fears,
They say they want to go up,
But the view's fine from here.

Okay, Jay.

I sip my cup of pretension and burn my lip before I speak,
A kiss from the devil where my intentions meet.
I couldn't trust me if I told you the truth.
The third person dissatisfies and calls for my youth
That once called for the future
That now calls for my youth.
The evolution of contradiction gave me the legs to walk
The onset of blindness gave my eyes the time to talk
Out of turn, this tongue spins out of control.
Daisy games say I love to so
Comfortable in my plastic sleeves
And I will believe for as long as I want,
Because I push the clock and I burn the fire,
Depriving the flame for the thrill of desire.

A Crutch for the Sun

Anxiety is dark trees and rocky cascades,
Mix tapes played backwards to get back what I gave.
This is mirrors and molasses
Your sundress and my glasses that you thought were cool,
So I never wore them again.
I never want this to get old,
Let it warm you when it's colder.
You have every pedal to shed,
Each one you let go is most certainly red
And returned like a handkerchief
That briefly decorates the sidewalk.
I lay this head to listen for something concrete to dream on,
The summer chalk makes flower beds
For the one it's found to lean on.

Latency

Light elbow creases reflect
The too many nights you spent at your desk
Filing papers as your letters tapered off
Sooner before the next sentence,
While your toes started to bloom in the sand of sleep.
Your light dances on the water
And plays with the tide drawing veins in the sand,
Bringing everything to life.
This soft smile cushions the fall to a glide,
Hope you're alright,
I'm glad you're alive.

Bad Skin

Always a day late and a bit too long
So that salt starts collecting on the corners of my lips.
My finger tips start to prune as they drag in the water,
Trying to keep myself stable, but mobile,
As I drift through shifting synthetic seas.
An idea can be re-gifted only so many times,
Until the surprise is worn out like weathered resin;
I am taking in water, but my voice still cracks
As it bellows out, shouting at a shattered sky.
The reef can keep my broken ships,
My anchors left deep scars.
I can stay above the fathoms
Safely moored on fading stars.

Time is Love

Stability is a destination with detours as you see fit.
Some check their blind spots and signal,
Others swerve over the median.
But I ignored the hazards like it didn't mean a thing,
When bringing someone in
Meant getting pulled out the driver seat
For a fist fight greeting in the emergency lane.
So here you are,
Rubbernecking with your foot on the pedal,
While the others shout out brief hello's
Over the screaming asphalt.
Just whose fault do you think it is?
In meters per second or miles per hour
Or the second chances that have been devoured,
It is what it's been, what you know and have shown,
Your time is your love and you're so quick to go.

Not So Despicable, A Little More Me.

I put on the brakes as the week came to an end,
Easing into the driveway, rolling through the door.
My room was a mess,
So I started picking up where I had left off,
Breathing in before returning calls,
Replacing the things that gravity got the best of.
An empty bed won't echo like some places do,
But by the time you don't mind
And everything that must go is already gone,
You will have already given those cardboard memories away.
The house is boarded up and the quietness stays.

Work, Play, or Stay?

It's been a couple days
Since I've seen what I've been used to.
From three to four to one so quickly;
Apologies if you have missed me.
I walked out the door when you were sleeping
And said goodbye with my eyes,
Left a message on your lids.
I tell the kid that this is growing up,
Owning up to showing up late
Or never at all.
I've got a necklace made of dates
Placed right next to one another,
Making time to be the son,
The longtime friend,
Or older brother.

To Drive East on the 90

For one day let it not make sense,
For one day keep those dents in your car
Left from late nights spent
Trying to find out who you were,
Reversing in your tire treads to catch up on lost ground.
Sometimes the world just falls apart that easily
And all that's left to pick up is speed.
A town is swept under the snow
And tucked into a pocket on the mountainside.
The faint ambiance reflects from the trees,
Witnesses to the bliss of when the road and your headlights
Gently collide.

RE: r #006

I justify my life with the words I hide behind.
I want to remember, I need to forget,
I don't have a choice.
I once was a boy with an itching within,
Now I'm a man with ill-fitting skin
Scratching like the record that plays
The same old story with the same faded glory
Turned to scar tissue to blow my nose.
I intend to wipe it all away
With some combination of
32 characters, 26 letters, 10 numbers
And whatever is left inside me
After the sun loses interest in flight,
The ocean sinks into the night,
After the tears and the kisses,
The "good bye" or "good riddance"
That sticks like a post-it keeping tabs
On bank accounts and hospital bills.
I am getting sick of the conversions,
So you can count on me to
Take the money and run,
Leap over the heap of nothing gained,
But lung sacs filled with breathing deep
To let out hot air when lying on ice.

I don't want your daughter,
I just want her time.
I know I need water,
Just need the right kind.

Unique Palms

They read me more than I could read them,
Prickly balls from this high.
They are dust bunnies hidden in the overcast,
Waving in every direction
Because I don't know where I'll land
The next time around.
Not everything shines at night.
There are runways for guidance
And guardrails for flight,
Clutching arms extended
From the elbows to the finger tips
To the edge of my tongue.
They calm the numbers spoken under the light,
Specific pacific, but the same 405.

No Moon In Kirkland, WA

I'm on the edge of my dreams,
Balcony déjà vu with the smell of gunpowder
And tiny sparks sprinkled over
Tiny stars aimed up at the sky.
She responds in liquid state,
In softer echoes from the lake.
It all fades before it falls,
What I gave to take it all back
For synthetic lightning and thunder snap;
I wake from my cozy hypnosis.
I see the light tonight,
It's real and I know it.
Just wait for time to make you known
Just wait for time to take us home.

What am I missing.

Let's not put counter-pressure on the gear with a stressed pin
The point has been driven home,
And it was time that conclusions were drawn
When walls crayoned with their words
Began to breathe, singing Home.
I checked the pulse against the clock,
I left my hands to try to stop it;
Cover your eyes, child.
You've already seen the train come in,
Come in, come in, the door is always unlocked,
So I took a step outside to taste a different air:
Used cigarettes and laughter,
Scrambled eggs and smoky hair.
Secondhand hints to the second hand's splinter,
Etching the light of a lesser known glimmer.

The Poor Kid Who Dresses Well

Overcast Seattle keeps its dreams under the blanket
Trying hard to keep them warm.
I could have sworn I had everything
Before I came here. And now I'll leave
With a bit of the dream to sleep on,
To keep pressed against my ear.
It whispers in drips of Puget Sound
And aside from condescension,
First impressions during second rounds,
A little bit of distance has brought me closer to home.

Confirmed In Response

It's the day that I've been saving for
And the change was building up in the pockets of my eyes
Trying to slip out, dying to crawl between the couch cushions.
I spend every day erasing solutions,
Then retracing their faint outline to claim a new idea.
And these aspirations would find their way
Into neatly labeled cardboard boxes,
To be squared away to even out the losses.
The ceiling collapsed when that attic got full
The panic collapsed with a routine breaking rules.
I peaked at your back when you undressed the meaning
And I kept my shoes on as I followed every step.
What is regret if you forget it was broken?
The soles have worn down, now I walk with hands open.

Blurday

Law from theory turns my flaws into a series
Of criteria for cheeriness override,
Forcing the dive from a rocking boat into rocky waters.
Your sweet vocal bubbles got soap in my eyes
That I rubbed with this blue leaf,
But I couldn't be you.
Balancing on your head is
The silk you dropped on the ground,
Which you had spun like two records
Both playing the same sound.
I expanded my ribcage for the incoming swell,
Your eyes drowned in the color that I know so well.

It's Actually Tuesday

An audio pregame put us in a good buzz
And the amps warmed up while we waited,
Waited out on the sidewalks,
Under the shade of glass towers.
A stadium breakfast in a bun
Makes you unlucky three to one,
So get in in a second and breathe in on the fourth,
To all come back as one again, cut and retied.
So make a friend for the day
And leave them at the door
Either on your way in,
Or right before you get out the last chorus.
They put back what you couldn't help but drop
Without picking a damn thing up.
But in some cases we just can't,
It falls forward and caress your hand,
A friendly reminder of what was to unfurl
That I finally lost to all the cute girls.

Summer Plans

These are little pockets of warmth
Stored as promises for more.
The hot floor sticks to my steps
And keeps me rooted where I need to be,
Between the penciled in lines,
Resting on the spine of stability.
My limbs branch out like a tree,
My fingers trace the lining
As I wait for my turn.
These are my hopes turned to
Pollen and leaves,
Calming the creases of thinking,
But brooding on the intentions.
And with definitions in a shell,
I will hatch my own inventions.

Damn Yankees

We finally broke the silence.
As much as I will try to hide it,
It will shout back in retaliation.
So now it's time to recalibrate
Everything you thought you had straight
Before the words got twisted and snapped loose.
Let the bridges crumble for separation
For clarity without the enemy,
Instead, a friend that I know is there with me.

Limit Pusher

Empty leather and another open window,
The music is a little louder
And I am speaking out of turn, out of context.
I chase holes in the sky
And listen to the silence where it comes to collide,
Where the sun soothes the water with a million crystal lights.
I got closest to the source with the poorest excuse
To black out every single damn color I used.
A downward momentum that pulled me apart,
And a bruise on my chest from a still beating heart.

Dreamshift

We were driving towards a hazy city
Exalted by a crowd of industries and apartments,
Your knees tucked under the glove compartment.
We found a spot where we sloshed into park
And walked the lot like the morning trains,
Steam running off of our breaths.
They turned to Morse code from my yell,
And your giggle as I slipped into the snow.
By then I didn't know it slipped my mind,
By then I didn't know you slipped into mine.
The second steps made much more sense
With a night spent deep in recompense.

Black Trees Sink Deep Into Night

No words beyond courtesy,
May as well be none at all
Besides this block of text,
As brief as the moment we never met,
To savor the flavors I never tasted next.
It might fade to bitter and bland,
A chance wasted, unless an act of fate for which
I would have surely tampered with the evidence...
Don't say it wasn't evident
When you found your smile was there to stay.
A brief etching in my retina,
Maybe it's best to be remembered that way.

A Wednesday In August

A good first impression starts with a bang,
Then they are free to engage.
Black smoke and dust eat up the sky before
Dinner plans could be made around the war table.
I could decorate you like a soldier,
But if you ask for honesty,
There will always be
A guilty possibility,
However you are undressed.

The Hanger Club

To keep the fluid balance, I tip my head back
While the rest put bias on a balance beam,
On which we put our burdened coats,
Stained, pretty patterns of
Pained, petty ghosts.
With my problems large and small,
He let me see the medium
And I scraped them off the pictures,
Until I saved them on my mirror.
There they hung off-center
Like a dissatisfying tie.
I'm caught in its noose
And the residue keeps everything hazy.
I'm stumbling backwards,
I thought the blindness would save me.

Creaky Feet

You are the familiar thief,
Habitual and greetings brief.
Slaving away because you don't know any better.
You're caving in, but safe in the shelter you've made.
Tacky-furnished, you wear a tacked on smile
And like it, even if the choice wasn't yours.
Movements spill sound on the floor
That you clean up after yourself,
Getting to know every step you take,
Slow with the heavy words that you make.

Dockweiler Lime

Oh yeah, I remember...
The structure, the function, the purpose,
Soft curses under the most sincere smile
Will ghost the shadows around the fire.
It reminds me
Of a grainy picture, blues and blacks.
They remind me
That returning is not going back.
She reminds me
Every time that ever is.
He reminds me
Finds me, makes me live,
Background to the heart and
The chorus as familiar as the floor.
When all you can take is all you can get,
A little sour taste will burn where it bleeds.
I watered it down and tried to pretend,
But the shower head fell on my shoulder again.

On The Last One

This is your classic,
Just the way you've always had it.
The best things come in threes
Or in however many people can fit in your heart.
Oh, take me back to the start
Where the eye looked over the overcast dusk,
I would never change the channel it looked over.
There is something in the background chorus;
It's hopeful that there's something for us.

An Ode to John and Claire

They come from a lab of skunks and skanks,
International or Ninja Dy31@ng,
Where I gotta call my girl,
And where I gotta get paid,
Where it's not that funny,
But we'll laugh anyway.
Bolth of them white, yet whipped...50 lashes!
That's racist? Let's face it,
The boyish man holds the matches.
We burn through the hours
And devour catered food.
From the lunch trucks's hot cousin,
Not eighteen bucks and actually good.
I lol like a baby when the solar army falls in line,
Even James the Iowan can be cool and fit in...
Sometimes; I love times like this.
There are SHArKs in the water,
But I'm swimming in bliss.

Getting The Flags Out

I had my trust.
It was kept in the drunk of my bimmer
Because my pride needed the leg room;
It was time to kick some ass,
And the perpetually slow passing on the 110 from the 5
Was a sign the city's blood was slow in transit, but alive.
Cut me open and I'll show you what's inside:
A fire and a riot without the stolen cab.
And tonight the night streaks purple and gold,
Now the colors that guide birds back to their nests,
Back to the best feeling we knew we had coming.
We are L.A., this is what we deserve!
A championship won,
An ego preserved.

Work(?)

An American standard:
The American sandwich, three-one-four,
Shiny white coats and a shiny tiled floor.
Sometimes a little burnt on the edges,
But it is going to be a classic
And there isn't any other way I'd have it.
Time constraints make a schedule
Make a freedom of its own,
Some air so it can grow.
Some more so it can laugh,
Shake the heavies out
That scream about some whispered past.
In a digital world, binary we breathe,
Where all that we need
Is less than three.

Ninja Dyel@n

The water stays stagnant and warms in the sun,
Underneath, the earth breathes
Tiny grains of sand that shuffle on the surface.
My hands want to drink,
Ocean dust recedes down the cracks in my hands,
Soft cell river beds pulse with another day.
Water tension bends the light and mentions
In passing, a tinge of synthetic.
I wrote my mind's notes in the sand,
But I couldn't forget where I buried it all.
The treasure and trap,
Now a mirage that I hurried to.
I leave dimples in smiling sand
And feel the currents brush against my hand
That serve a sturdy lung in the body's water,
The vastness of past that I keep from its wander.

A Lovely Night

It's summer and you're still warm
From the sun's longest hug of the day.
The breeze is your sweater
The stars are your blanket,
And this is your breath to make you feel better.
She wore the dress of an optimist
You wore the scars of pragmatism
That faded into red, irritated from your laughter.
Not long after, the road got wetter when
Parked by the start and the end of my youth,
Marking the start and the end of my truth.
I checked my pockets for anymore details
Then I checked my baggage for a plane I'd never take,
Hoping the right people lost their tickets
And found their way back home,
Or at the very least,
This shared window seat
Is better here grounded than ever have flown.

Block The Casting Call

What is it? Just listen. Revisit, hold open.
It's the verdict in double-jeopardy.
I would tell you to wipe those tears,
But first run those soft hands
Under warm water
With palms full of suds,
Wash my failures away from
Living lazy, bored, and always unprepared.
I want to go back,
No, forward, forward,
I want to go back.

I Will Be Ready For Winter Again

When you pass the dates,
Everything but your brain remembers how to feel
And the synapses burn from continual sparks.
To start off Undeserving is to dig under the casket.
If I go down far enough, the stars fade away
If they fall down far enough, it is something I can taste.

Important Points (Part 2)

Remember your friends,
To let go you have to lose your grip.
You drop the pen with no point,
A blunt fall on a bare page.
There are shreds of rubber
Alternatively over a simple,
Old note held in a Möbius strip.
With creases in the paper,
It's much easier to fold.
No one ever said that it was over at control.

The Point System

Hey Crinklenose,
I'll keep the engine running.
Sunny Sunshine walks down starboard,
I follow.
A Lion was once a cub that pawed at everything,
I had paced the cage from the outside
It seemed like I knew which side was in.
In a dream,
I was asking questions in angles of three lights,
Clouds suffocated mountaintops,
God was as blind as justice,
I was in the stages of an epiphany.
I created you
And your best shot was mine.

The Trials of a Working Man

You wake up in the morning with the same old face,
You use the same old toothbrush,
And the same old toothpaste.
There are leftover shadows from the night before,
You wipe them off again,
Then see yourself off
Again.
Incessant laps to win the coffee cup.
1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th red light that you stop at
Remembering just what you forgot at home.
Absolutely nothing...keep driving.
We make asphyxiation faces
In funny pictures of ending days,
And you try forgetting the pain
With every day that you get paid.

You Are Light Streaks In My Camera Lens

There is the same face with a different photo burn
Bottom-right of the printout, every year's turn.
To be stagnant is to be an axis,
About which this world does not rotate,
But changes with no negotiation.
Every attempt made lets it stay a little longer,
A little faded, a little smaller
As the cloudy memory you keep in a jar.
The sound against your ear comes in waves,
The pearls that they gave are
Locked around fair necks,
And the buried glass is a bit more clear,
But you always have to check.

Course Post

Last night I slept in porcelain
And making up didn't make much sense.
Emotions are dense when sanity is diffused
Through the heat from my head.
Fever dreams are thievery things,
Stealing discretion
And shattering it on the tile floor so that
None of it matters, a pattern no more.
There is perfume in the medicine cabinet
It is all a chemist's work that made me sick.
But there's a method I missed
That will click when it's aligned,
It's hope in a code that draws a fine line.

In Dependence

Condensation on my breath
Powered ice under my feet
A promise tight around my neck,
But draped over my chest.
Threads and buttons hug me
Walking down tree level stars
5a.m. on a frigid wet alley.
I accelerate on a runway of weeks
Expecting to leave the ground and fly,
But I slip on the ice,
Falling backwards into a January night.
And when I opened my eyes,
I saw Eden's door,
And walked out.

Mountain Talk

Here is your echo from nothing being said.
They are new repercussions and deposits of pure lead;
You were never one to follow,
So once again they follow suit.
I can't tell you what I've lost,
But I can tell you what I got
From pulling at the threads
And thinking of the thought.
The gravity of decay is stronger than I know,
It pulls down on the sun as it tries to melt the snow.

Oz (Eight Short of Forty)

Work before play,
Sleep deprived before the day
Starts rolling across the sky.
She wakes up snoring, rolls away.
A paid traitor is what has been said,
But there's no truth in this duality
When formality is dead.
And with a rush of blood to my head,
It goes from gray to Pink's,
Feeling like I should just like I could in L.A.
Connect the dots with freeways and stoplights,
It's the only thing I got right
After I took the third left.
I deal out words through shuffled thoughts
Until the court is out of order,
And there's no gavel in judgment's hand.
I swore myself in without ever taking the stand;
Is it becoming what I hated
Or what I couldn't understand?

Letting the Steering Wheel Go

A dirty reflection will stain your thoughts
When all you can give
Is all that you haven't forgotten
And every salted memory
Is still rotting in the backroom.
I'd trade my veins for wires
To get rid of all desires,
I'd give my human heart
For a strong voltage supplier,
Because the heartbeat makes me shaky
Like the grooves that line this road.
We are not infallible,
And the concrete greets you cold.

Contact Through Glass

A routine can be disrupted when you trust it with luck,
And then your stuck being read your Miranda rights
For attempting to break Murphy's Law.
Your color combination and voice box recognition
Was enough to break the safest place I had,
Leaving quiet implosions in my cage
With every glance you had to give,
Your necked craned like a key
That slips through me like a sieve.
I was the lock that kept you out
Of the door that you are,
Unlocked and letting everything in.

________ is overrated.

Every other thought is blank.
This is what the water washed away
When I sank into plush leather
And I couldn't decide whether or not
I knew which flaw I wanted to hide.
Some diluted solution
Sat in a beaker of indecision
As if any decision made
Was one less worse to contemplate.
Here's to flaunting it without a basis,
Finding homeostasis,
Breathing...so nonchalant.
But never forget, you won't forget
Everything you haven't forgotten.

Chillin' Like A Villan

Being a man, drink in hand, the other masters grilling
Fresca pong is long and they just keep on spilling
Burgers, dogs, and corn on the cob will keep on filling
Washington & Wilson for just a bit more grilling,
This summer is freedom except for work and billing
Financial and emotional, dramatic and thrilling
This warming summer smoke is a memory fulfilling
And if I don't choke, It'll be the life I'm glad I'm living.

Right here.

You can spend your entire life planning,
But still be surprised.
The pair of eyes behind the flood gate switch
Is drunk on a backdrop horizon
Oversaturated with sloppy stitches.
Don't call the engineer to build you a bridge
If the hinge off of which you precariously swing
Fans the fire you cook up in your kitchen.
The blueprint was a war map, a plan of attack
For when you dropped tiny little bombshells
Encasing little notes of peace.
This radar finds no target for the sake of compliance,
But to provide a counterargument to silence
Would be

Statue Still

There are tangles to be had in nostalgic strings
In an attempt to suspend justice in the sky.
We can say that we tried,
But now it's time for quiet time,
So let the echoes of pride settle
For the rights of a gentleman.
Stand still and find some people have a problem.
Stand still some rest their head on you to solve them.
Here is a finale of mutual intrusion,
Where we're reminded deeper blues
And touch our deepest bruises.

Two Shells

There's none to clear up when none is misunderstood.
Remember how seriously you told me it was just a game
With your two fingers twisted.
Puts my stomach in knots.
The frustration in tying a bow is unrealized
As these real eyes really start agonizing
And your logic starts randomizing.
Glances remind the forgotten,
Synapses snap exactly where I cocked them.
I am the only one left with my hand up
Struggling to connect dangling conjunctions,
Merely able to be graded on participation.

To Look Good (Thank God It's me!)

I am call and response with no message received
I am the pistil and stamen, the birds in the bees
I am the laughter with there being no joke
I am saving the lives of the voices I choke
I am the breath of fresh air
That leaves you out of breath
Trying to run for the best.
I am the arrogance of self,
Reflecting in self:
The nights aren't as dark here,
But I pray that it's not gone in me,
Because things are going so well here
And it feels so damn good being me.

Origins of Pride

I am sitting in the lion's den
And in here rests my pride.
The easiest received is the easiest to please
As I preach my whirling sermon
To satellite hearts
Circling home.
Echoes of territorial growls
Become the bellows and howls of our arrival.
All I can see are audible mirrors
Heard crystal clear, the continual coastal crashing.
The ocean grits her teeth.
The crust is too thin to hold us long enough
So forever we fly going no way but up.

A Dream In Waking

The assumption is a position
As conditionless as the open air
That finds its way through hair let down,
But never done to me.
We're pulling each other
Over calendar boxes and parallel time lines.
Tugboats that give me slack as I
Drift towards the island in a sea of asphalt,
Because the bags under these eyes
Are heavier to carry than sobriety.

I'm Yours!

Their smoggy majesty I can barely see,
But everything is much clearer now
When you've cleaned the dirt from your mirrors
From sporadic rain that shimmers and dries,
Shimmers and dries like a mirage in the sand
Kicked up from the median.
Someone's crossing the double-yellow
While another runs a solid red.
The soft color of cement
Is something upon which my eyes can rest.
The same route feels different every time
And this home always smells like Christmas.
The mothering mountains protect what is mine,
What is once again the pride in my chest.

With No Beginning to the End

Suddenly, everything's the same.
Every name has its initials
With periods to keep it tame,
Because we would never want
Anything to get out of hand,
Only yours in mine.
Keep the tangible thoughts
In the pockets of your mind
Where all of your change jingles.
One day you'll get lost
With no intended correction,
For connection.
The ending to eternal perfection.

Eviction Noticed

I haven't gone anywhere,
The only Stockholm I've known
Was a syndrome long ago.
I was held at logic point and told,
"Show me the door and I'll show you the world
That you made out of the fear of diffusion."
But Pandora had more to offer,
A group of atoms can take a life and
Break them up to make a bomb,
Or shake them up to make a song of light.
The only thing done right was
To turn it off and click to a lock,
To walk with my hands up
And my summer dreams cocked.

Vertigone

Racing dawn got me tired when I lost,
When I took the gloss from these eyes
And let it diffuse with a night crossfading
Into the next scene - (break) - I beat tomorrow
And the stars that row through a celestial sea,
Leaving splashes and ripples in my loose grip of time.
Every hour is a new room with the same door,
Every breath goes out to come in no more the same;
The air is always different with everyone to blame,
And everyone to thank once it sank to the floor.

Cotton Clouds, Cotton Sheets

After slipping through the sheets of convenience,
Is it even worth making my bed?
I'm tearing the clouds that hang above my head.
This room,
Reduced to a blank template for death or brilliance.
As I strip off layers of time to a bare room,
A computer speaks again with low-fidelity warmth;
I remember this before,
When I drew circles on my eyes
So that everything would come together.
Now everything is slowing/breaking down
And the rest is torn apart.
It is the freshness of death
With the bet of a new start somewhere else,
With someone else's hindsight sitting on your shelf.

The Limits of Superman

An unpleasant temporal displacement,
I lie in this bed with my eyes cracked open
Soft blue light cracks through the edges,
I tuck the sheets in around my neck.
Sometimes dreams get scared,
Sometimes fears swallow courage
And spit out the shaky bones.
Wake up, dear child, this was all
You could do, better pretty colors
Fade in harsh light too.
Just calm your bones...it's over now.
Your eyes will adjust in California South.

Mountains to Slides

I wish brilliance could come in just a few lines,
Ironically enough, it's tough to keep in mine.
Everything strays, but the mountain still stands
It's taking my breath and giving demands.
To stand is to break,
To bend is an ultimatum,
So the parade becomes a march
Of straight-set eyes and tired backs arched...
But just know by your pain and the white in your hair,
It's a long way down the smooth glide of summer air.

In The Middle River Crossing

I can learn anything,
So teach me how to swim.
I keep the fire hose running
Until I'm all burnt out...not yet.
I regret negative time
With no net displacement,
And locked jawbones in my closest
Crowd their way into my basement.
In case you you couldn't tell
This may as well have been it all,
As I grip the hands of clocks
And compress the months I've spent,
Into what I've got left on my breath.
This is momentum at its thickest,
The strokes of genius at its best.

DB #6

Play that track!
Play crack-the-sky and shatter it,
But keep your feet flat on the ground.
These are all of the familiar sounds
That we know have come to pass
While writing a note for the broken glass,
Throwing the fourth letter on,
But keeping the first on our minds.
This is our time to shine
Before the afterglow is gone.
We've only three more
Until we'll be done with one of four,
And once we leave we will receive
Our summer's key to freedom's door.

Past Promises

There is the smell of red metallic on my right hand;
It was pressed up against the ribs of a monstrous shell,
Pushing and holding back its hollow frame.
Apply pressure to the tongue before I sink all these words,
Shipped off in stiff drinks, soft piano and fading sirens.
Mix over these layers with the static of silence
And the echo of thoughts off of themed cloudy glass.
I never said it any louder, what was etched into your arms
That had made its way from the cutting room floor,
Countless shutters from your countless shudders.
I'm sorry I couldn't make it count,
Shooting stars that I kept in silence.
We blew them all at once on a plastic cake with real flowers
To say I'm just getting too old.
This time I burned my hands with the wax from dandelions
And now I'm getting sick from all the death I've been defying.

Driving Down The 404

Let's make a bet,
I'll raise you those sheets
And you can give me that southern comfort
With some amaretto and a splash of lime,
Refreshing the page to gauge this account.
I'm cashing in quarters, dimes and nickels
For the bigger bill as printed negatives.
May this early morning serve as sedation
So we can laminate this nameless freedom
And put it on the fridge. Vorshtein!
We are the only ones left on this train,
Closing the gap between bridges and bedrooms
So that never too soon, we won't bloom in vain.

Don't Play This Game

A brief dream made at the angle of disbelief
Was a late moment in the sun,
Reflecting on an undone moment
Like the laces that tie my consciousness together.
Wait!
One word to lock joints
Turn backwards, feel adjoined.
Call me a thief for the briefest moment passed,
Harassing morality with what we reach,
Entwined, aligning the wrinkles in clasping.
I grasp for the Polaroid dream, now fresh
Yet archaic; it will stay in my linty pocket,
The memory gently impressed.

Come With?

Let's make little mistakes together,
Let's take what was signed in our names
Back when planes took off faster,
The sun set more quickly,
And I knew you wouldn't miss me
Nearly as much as I'd miss you.
We'll drink the blood of youth
And you can make your cute remarks
And laugh under fainting stars,
Blown away by those in your eyes,
Light of the kindness in your heart.
Just touch mine to remind me to breathe
And I'll thank you for being you;
It makes it so much easier to be me.

Chasing Spectra Around The Sun

I once read a book with your name in it.
Mine was on the cover beside a heart-shaped lock,
Now stuck full of bent and broken keys.
You put your finger on my lips,
You put your lips on my eye
And you kissed me to sleep.
You whispered, "There's no need to see.
There's no need to feel."
Your presence sat on my nightstand
And stirred when I let a breath slip out.
You are living a different life than mine
You are seen by different eyes than mine,
Your words were tucked in between the sheets,
But I opened my eyes to a page not found.

Your Favorite and Your Hated

Clocks shatter backwards,
The world is flatter now.
The differences are folds
And no longer bends of the horizon,
Her, bending backwards to make you
Sea, stars, mountain, sky.
We'll get by with each swing of the grandfather,
This is her grand daughter
On a train to the same new light
Seen through different eyes,
And if these tracks are exact
Then I'll be back for a try.

This Hot Head of Mine

I've been wondering where you've been,
Making my eyes hot like a summer football morning
Burning the brightest candle of helplessness and optimism.
And my fingers twitch like a scepter-gripping queen,
You are her mother and she rules her own world
With a ruler set to scale what spins endlessly out of control
In a series of disposable dispositions.
Maybe I'll drive north and forget for a day,
I'll take back these letters until the postage is unpaid,
Or I'll repeat all the words until a sentence is made
Like holding an umbrella upside down in the rain.

We Burned The Barn Down

Water drops stop and spread out on the windshield
That pop as soft as keys and spell out a worn-out lullaby
To put these childish dreams to sleep,
And gently nudge me awake.
I'll pull these curtains back slowly

I'll get out of bed, red exit, stage left.
Step back and look at your college life
Step further, hear the murmur of static lips,

Senior summer stutter kisses, going up, up, up!
What do I miss so that I now hold the cup?
Just remind me of a warmer night.
Just sneak me into bed tonight.

Thelongestdayiveeverknown.

I woke up in debt.
There were two sets of problems I didn't forget,
Nor did they forget me.
They called my name the three hours I slept.
Oh, the haunting sound of wanting death,
Them, wanting to be finished.
I, wanting the same.
And in seven long hours, it finally came.
(A moment of silence for
The paper, the lead, and the sanity lost.)
Even with the handicap of twilight before dawn
The sun still beat me to the finish,
But even then I was not finished.
My only wish was that my untitled 03
Would share this liter of class with me
And we'd lie like lions out in the sand...
Or sit in my room listening to our newest brand.
And our coffee cups must be shooting stars
As they shone in projected light,
Preceding the night that would soon be ours
When we, on the rooftop, would let out our roars.
Here's an ode to the Fruit Loops I apparently had
And to the friendships that sail with no anchors to drag.

I am Iron Man!

Two sets of problems only push me forward
To hold them back until after 4a.m.
Here's to living once,
Here's to living proud,
Here's to six yellow buses,
Driving the smartest kids around.
But please don't wreck!
It'd be a national crisis, with all due respect.
"We are America's bright future
And all we want you to do is
Light up the screen!"
And we started childish chants
Just to show you what we meant.
This is over two to the power of fifteen
Dollars that we pay to keep our futures clean,
Going to popcorn and sodas
And a bought out midnight screening.
With so much intelligence in three hundred seats,
We were being as mindless as we could possibly be.
Because we are iron men with hearts of solid gold
And souls made of youthfulness that's never getting old.

Hipstertones

I am Mr. Hipster Spacey-Brains,
With neutral milk and ink blot stains.
You're so uncultured
You're so mainstream
You're so conformist
You're so predictable.
Didn't seem that one coming,
Like you saw me bumming that cigarette
Off of a bum who claims he's a Vietnam vet...
Well, I'll be the one to regret that decision.
Down with the war and down with the system!
Maybe I'll write a song with my band
So indie it doesn't even exist.
And yeah, I won't hit the notes
Because it's so damn conformist.
Maybe I'll sample my vintage records,
Limited press, here on my shelf,
And I'll play them round and round
Like the seriousness of myself.

Where My Conscious People At?

What year is it?
We're drunk on the beach in the cool afterglow
Where I found my mind more lost than I was.
Yeah kids, I'm still dreaming synesthetic!
You've got to jump on this...opportunity!
But let me take a second (because Pabst is in first place)
To cover my face in this satisfying guilt,
Headfirst into the waves for the thrill of a kiss,
The cresting waves beating my heart back.
The last thing I'll save is this lethargic promenade
As I stumble across the sand
And the sea pours out the light of God.

Starr

First off: unrelated.
Third off (because in a second,
I couldn't say what made it),
Not everything unsaid
Is meant to be written,
But the goal of life is definition.
So here is the recognition
For the ignition that starts in the eyes.
Sometimes flowers need to grow
Before you let them die,
Because they still go on without you
And their pollen is the stars
That ignite the night about you.
Tell me, how does it feel?
When those fire blue eyes materialize
As subconsciousness spills through the ether.
Thanks for the relief
However unclear,
And ever so brief.

Hey, Mr. Warden

You've got me thinking of a desert sun!
I can't work like this no more,
And that West Coast (Best Coast) yearnin'
Has got me so.
Damn.
Sore.
Sir, you tease me with these horrid things:
These gated windows and humid springs...
Good Lord, set me free!
Let the freedom pour
In all of its dryness,
In all of its smog--
Look at my hat and look at my heart;
This is where it all started
And where I belong!

5:20am (This is a bad habit to keep.)

Don't drink the water!
We'll take shakes instead,
So shake your rump and move your hips,
Hold him close and kiss her lips.
This is a black tie affair, version 2.0
Yeah, I was hiding. How did you know
That this hurly-burly is not the first
And this panicked dancing won't quench the thirst?
Now my vision worsens, shot by smoky night.
And there are two moons tonight,
But we'll just follow the crescent dome
Until we find the next thing closest to home,
Because for once I feel alright again
And the sun hits drunken eyes again.

Gossip with the Door Open

Let's take the time to write our names in the sky
With the burning retinas of a shaky camera.
Our canvas turns a lighter shade of night
As calm as the stillness of the earliest morning
Where the only movements are soft flashing red lights
And a couple haphazard headlights.
They sniff the pavement for home,
Or somewhere that they think that sleepy eyes will never know.
The deep blue retells truths that align like a cast,
But I'm breaking this shell and letting it come to pass.

Water and Syrup

With lemon drops in my throat,
All the sweetness is spoken sour
And within an hour flat,
I am.
They keep their hose running,
But it is your luck that runs out.
But you need to walk out slowly,
Blood merely wanders in your head.
Your in the dark of night.
The light's already dead.

Hailstones

Let me just pretend, just for a second
That these hailstones are just blunt arrows
That got cold without their quiver
And this vertical river stiffens from a long trip
As I watch from the inside,
Sipping my tea and breathing in balance.
A great idea tips at the ledge of my tongue
Only to be swallowed in nervous gulps,
Because you found me out.
I'll stand in the doorway with my hands in the air,
You know I would never walk in.
I've already walked out before
And my only re-entry would be
Gliding back down to earth,
Not a care in the world for all that it's worth.
I hope the inertia of your courage
Will swing you back in step,
Because that globe will keep on spinning
Through your excitement and regret.
I hope both your holding hands
Hold the happiness I hated
And your laughs will spark a sun
Where all my dull-lit stars had faded.
These hailstones wake me up
To a separate, simple light.
It's gray with no surprises
And it whispers, "You're alright."

Crooked Landscapes

The gray ground and gray clouds in the sky
Are perforated by rays of golden dotted light,
I might just tear it open.
It is coming to an end now,
And the western hemisphere explodes like shredded cotton
In a spectrum of dramatic blacks, silvers, whites,
Piercing blues piercing through the film on my eyes
That plays the smiles and cries of this silent mind.
Here are some rain songs for when there's no one to blame,
When your bed has been made, but still nothing is the same.

Far From Hope (Italy Red & White)

The cleansing smell has not been cleared out
For I am still here, it is still then.
There is no solution to the rosemary
And every pulse of sweet sound pollution.
Oh, there is no way that we can live the way we do
Like when we knew just what we did,
With hearts that were sieves and drained through the cost.
I had no more money and went on to the bank
So now I'm down by the river,
Fishing for wishes with stars on a string,
Waiting for the moon to wear out the sun's ring.

damnscent

stp.
yr snss r brkn,
y'r smllng up snt
in n lfctry, dble, vsl sns.
mthng out cnsnnts wn't mk a vc,
so mk ths cll-t-rms sbjctlss by chc.
it s tm t strghtn out spnl prrts
t mk ths wrld hve sm srt of mnng
wtht mkng yr bndng nck ct ff yr brthng.
wht's a fctry hrt tht s chrnng out spch,
bt frgttng th vwls n th lf tht you nd?
BRTH!

...your senses are broken,
you're smelling up snot
in an olfactory, audible, visual sense.
mouthing out consonants won't make a voice,
so make this call-to-arms subjectless by choice.
it is time to straighten out spinal priorities
to make this world have some sort of meaning
without making your bending neck cut off your breathing.
what is a factory heart that is churning out speech,
but forgetting the vowels in the life that you need?

Breathe.

Twilight Nightlight

This is the bookend to a night well spent
Or a morning poorly planned,
When these hands retrace ghosts
Lying on a bed of keys,
Playing memory notes in silent reverie.
They remember dismembered moments of light,
When everything was wrong,
But feeling just right.

Surprised Hands

When the devil visits you in your sleep,
Your dreams are flooded with
The love you needed before you left off,
Trailing your sentences until they were lost.
I am on this bed for operation,
Misplaced faces and miscommunication.
The ghost that we keep
Made the whines in the pipes
And the creaks of the sink.
The walls there breathe as calm as death
My lungs stay stiff and out of breath,
I am breathless in this scene
As less and less becomes in between,
But I cannot stay.
I only come closer to get further away.

For the Standards of Emotional Inertia

The diffusion of clouds amuses the eye
As the moon speaks through trees
And puts whispers in the sky.
It is a sea of static from audible wool,
Like the torrential buzz,
Deep golden sun and muddy pools.
I am the high-reaching harmonies
Fading somewhere in the background,
I am the lighting winding up
And the warm thunder breaking down.

Frankness

This is critical hopelessness,
Belting out every frequency
Burning up every colored flame
M'aidée! M'aidée!
A May's day is too far away...
I'm throwing up cartridges
Hoping that they'd stay as satellites,
But this world is constant to the ground
And these stringless kites fall back down
Directionless and hollow,
So all that is left is the echoing sound
Of the optimist's tomb.

There is no flash, just the ghost of a boom
As the diary pages scatter about the room
And the dates on the entries cave in
And he looks in the mirror,
How he could have saved him.
Dressed up pretty by himself
With watery eyes and a water mouth.

Can you hear me?
Can you be dear to me as I've been dear to you
For I have feared for you in myself?
Home.
Your name is a bitter untamed melody
Of irony and iron fillings
From the bittersweet company of this life
In which I both lead and am led on.

No more sunlight today.
No more open door,
No more room to say
Nothing new that needs to be said.
Nothing grew that isn't now dead
Nothing flew that hasn't yet fled.
No one knew that this world could breathe
And take away yours with nothing in return.
And you bleed for what you need
While your lungs begin to burn,
Then it starts all over with a new approach to learn.

So if practice makes perfect,
Perfection I do not want to know
As much as I don't want to care,
And these words lose their weight
Because nobody's there to be cared for.
I did not ask for these sorrows on my chest
But at best, I've been given more.

This loss is non-conservative
And my greatest concern is that this is the truth.
This is the mistake that takes up all my youth
And if so, may I be saved from what I don't know.
God, let it be known, before I've grown too much more
And these cycling Fields grow as rank as before.

People and Persons

I am lost in perspective: me, movement, and time
Depicted in shaky lines repeated,
Traced over to be treated with more lead.
It's hope to hold for solidification that
Blackens the cracks of unstable communication.
But to straighten these fingers already slipping
Would be to find the heart that I put all my courage in,
That was pulled apart while I stared at the point of origin.
Because sometimes you go blind
When the brightness in your eyes sets in,
And sometimes this life ends
While you are waiting for it to begin.

Dreams Without Television

I fell victim to the cataclysmic rhythm of whine,
Retelling to sell it just one more time
All fermented from being vented,
Renting out what was not mine.
They borrowed heavy sips,
But could not grip the empty bottle
For its fullness was forgotten
And rotted with the vines.
Excommunicated by the sheer momentum of time,
This empire declines from no variety, just sin.
And sobriety suffers the buffer from within
With a story, save glory, in which the bad guys win.

Srunk

Je cherche la première fois que je sentais
Que je ne pourrais voir en arrière,
Mais je déteste discours prétentieux
Donc je passe comme si déjà entendu.
Phase shifts will be the death of me...
Moments later, when it all comes rushing in
And flushing out this conscious session,
As I spent the night hiding colors in pockets
And spitting them out when it all came to an end.

Moving Towards Twilit Stars

At the most motivated, loneliest times,
It's under there.
It's hiding with the colliding dreams,
Pressed up close against reality
And getting tangled in her heavy hair.
Both solid walls and clouds are white
So I climb these flights of stairs,
And comb through flightless stares,
So that it may be made better.
And it may be put together
With a collar and real leather,
With almost nothing in between
The greatest element and me,
Under all those twilit stars,
Over all that moonlit sea.

XX-Dependent

A stutter on the time line is a shudder on the fine line of
After a collapse, just where do we stand?
Where is the placement of the face of your hand?
But I demand no explanation,
The end of one's path is another's initiation.
In a friendly reminder, my mind's voice mentioned
That every word is a progression that has its intent.
There are implicit indications behind music and doors
There are whispers of wishes in which starlight is stored
There is a beauty within, in and out of my sight,
And in the many little breaths that caress a lesser night.

Asymmetric Expression (Wind Down)

In a tailored tux,
Putting on my worst fit gloves
And ironically enough,
Crying over someone else's love,
Champagne bubbles make me troubled
And the chandeliers shake above as
I make my way to my seat.
There no sense of plot so
It's where it all should be.
Overdeveloped,
Underachieved,
Played on the third stage,
So separate and complete.
Different actors play the same
Different players in one game
Different games describe a name,
It's all the same with no repeat.

Good for you.

Your voice drowns out theirs and mine,
Your wet dreams dampen the night
Turned from sluggish to a halt
When you were just getting started,
Parted lips and clasping hands.
I dragged my feet through cold sand
I spun the moon until it burned
And twirled the ocean, steady churns.
I am waiting for my turn.
I am seeing, but will learn
So that I can do this better,
So that I can do this right.

In Passing

Who am I kidding? Who has the time?
These missteps are mine, stagger-stepped on the line.
Divine or design, this year's trade-off,
Has become less of a trade and a little more off.
So this water stands still, stagnant and unthrilled.
The shore is a race in which I'm always behind,
Or pushing too hard against its will.
But lethargic, lapping waves won't get you any wetter
And in a year's overlap, and it's not getting any better.
So do me the favor if no other savior comes forth,
Just don't break my silent heart here on Killian Court.

Silverstein Physics

A blind dog has to learn more than tricks,
Looking at reflections of
Open doors through closed windows,
And digging for unthrown bones
Buried in fate's backyard,
Only to find skeletons.
Even if he could, he wouldn't see too far.
There are moves with no movements
There are signs with no meaning
There are counters with no point
To cut through any feeling, adjoining
Two different beings with nothing at all.
I stand here too close with support like a wall,
And the whispers in your inner ear
Keep your life balanced and make me disappear.
I'm so conscious, almost nauseous
As the gravity comes in fast,
Bombing through the sky behind impressionable glass.
The city lights streak, while I dream upside down
So it looks like a while until I'll ever hit the ground.

Aftershock Aftermath

Empty cans clatter as the wind blows them around,
I sit here on the roof with feet barely off the ground.
It is the familiar sound, some auxiliary,
Capillary thump-thumping noun
And silence, violence against the city.
The morning shines a different light
From gritty to pretty,
Peaceful to pretty picture portraits
That you frame in your minds cemetery.
Sedimentary layers of dreams and dead things,
In which life is death seen in circumspect retrospective.
And this perspective is elected from the zombies
In the stench of the tension that condensed on the floor.
A folding chair props open the door
Up here on the roof where it had happened before.
It bends like a page,
My spine breaks like a book
Full of prayers for the given,
Taken away from those they took.

Disaspora

Feeling like saints at the gates,
We manage the flood running in,
Rushing hard with the hopes contained
By construction cones and yellow rope.
And once through the door,
They head towards the roof
With mind out the window,
Only breathing when the wind blows
All their dreams teeming with sin.
And the waves come crashing in
Through the masses, through the stars...
This time I will wake up and head out to the car.

Waiting in the Front Door

Tell me this will be something else, or
Tell me I'd be better off
Digging up wells for the incoming swell,
Saving up sandy water for
When I'm feeling too well.
This water isn't clean
This water is what I need.
It is a variation of a common theme
That I am only an extra in this party scene.

On Holiday

The uniformed calmness of a long streak,
Embedded in the ground
Between the solid slabs of steady concrete,
Is disrupted by the kind talk and holding hands
Of couples in flocks, talking kissing demands.
Heavy lids keep out the dull light of what I did
While this tongue takes flight
And my jaw starts caving in.
So now I'm outweighed and jaded by the simple fact
That dreams must come true before they can come back.

Silly Veins

Who ever believed it would get so far?
The distance between the lungs and the heart,
The breath and the beat,
Have never been
Farther
Apart.
I start to reach,
But the word lingers on my tongue.
So the world grabs my fingers,
Stilled curled,
And pulls them back.
And by then I had known just what I had begun,
My tongue made a slip as it slid into "summer sun."

Anniversary

Today I was trying to see how well I have forgotten,
But all I could see was how well you could forget.
I keep taking bites into fruits that have gone rotten,
You are the hollow skin in which I place all my regret.

Harvard-Weeks Loop

We get tired of ourselves in the consciousness we keep,
Wide awake and snoring, open eyes and fast asleep.
Looking straight and counting bridges,
Steady breaths while the river rests
As I sew them on like stitches,
Weaving steps into a nest.
If this world has made nothing for us,
Then how did it all get so damned and gorgeous?
Looking backwards and forwards,
Looking right towards us, we look back at the sun.
A peep through soft clouds, hiding strings on which it hung.
Insane by definition, but we are doing alright.
We're just running in circles until everything is right.

Peripheral Refractions

From far away it almost looks like home.
On this breakwater, I broke the surface
Of glassy meniscus to dive down,
The closest I would ever get to know.
So we crane our heads counterclockwise
Just one more time with sun in our eyes.
Now it's back to the clouds,
It's back to the lights,
It's back to the sleepy and slow jazz nights.

Effectively Nowhere

With woods and a jacket, I am most alive
Like the names in iron graves: Gloucester, 1945.
Dozens flood in after many hundreds had before,
The waves keep crashing in from foamy crest to ocean floor.
Forevermore, the sailor's horn is for guiding ships to harbor
And friends are close as families are closer than no other.
Something I hadn't learned to love came above never too soon,
As from the vastness of the ocean had emerged an orange moon.

Dragon Light Rotary

The most cautious signs
Lie beside the most rumbling roads
To the most humbling homes,
Low enough to skim the filmy water
Like the eyes of the son of a father,
Washed up on the beach;
A house by the cemetery
Means you'll see each other soon.
I spin in endless circles
From ethanol and dancer twirls,
So hold me closer to the moon,
This night both ends, too late, too soon.

A Fork Splitting Embers

I place bets on a table set with
The silverware that compliments
These avant-garde accomplishments
As one goes dull for another's light
To slip enough to strike a match
Now uncontested, unattached.
And I burned down so hard, so fast,
But the shards of glass just fractured light
From the flames through smoke that rose so high.

Two Today, Plus One If You Count The Two Tomorrow

Unforgotten private beauty
Every other day,
Not including weekends.
We bent at our weakest points to sit,
To tell each other what's of it
That is our every day,
Connecting in every way
Until I can say that I know you well,
A hope that fills this crystal shell
That fell gracious in your light.

Ms. Bossa Nova

Hello there, dearest.
I know that you see clearest between
The two of us,
But is it true of us that truth enough is
Personalized eyes
Vocalized through a speed dial smile?
Direct connection to you from me,
To the one held equal among social authorities
That rain down from here to hell
And opened umbrellas that shared no faces,
That tie tight nooses with their laces.
You burned their gallows
When I earned your good graces,
Here's an indirect thank you
As I ad lib through dry spaces.

Hurting Game

Another round for the young woman while
This metal dancer twirls to the ground.
It's not that shocking from the cockpit
To land in a soft pit, to break the fall
Or break it all up in a series of
Selective.
Radio.
Channels.
A lonely whistle on this jacket is blown,
Hot Cross Buns in a monotone
For that church child now lost
In the roar of the choir's chorus undeniable.
Release and then think, no.
Release and believe, undesirable.
With all things considered but the other side,
In these arms, you will inevitably reside.

Figure it out!

I don't need lighted maps,
I've been more lost than this.
This is sleep paralysis
And I'm being constantly buried
Under cool dirt that feels heavy on my chest
Pushing out the words, digging myself out.
I'm alone on this one at best,
Besides the gravestones strumming
Some ungodly mess.
Direction and worth are still yet to be found
In the marrow of bones carelessly strewn about.
I'd shout "murder!" but courtesy cuts my voice short,
Emotional reinvestment pressed straight to court.

The Resurrection

I stand on this holy hill once more,
One last time before mine is up again
Explaining to an angel why this light has to bend:
It cannot break.
It takes to the winds and into the sky,
My own wings dampened, so I could not fly
But I could lie here with a lighter soul,
Tracing the mountain faces
And embracing a goal achieved.
These eyes have been opened
And they drank in a sea of sequins,
A dream sequence complete,
An intervention divine.
I'll learn backwards in time,
Walk forwards in step,
And dream now of what's mine.

Gerunning

Talking horror with murderers
Is talking too soon,
Walking the moon across a true sky
Until you're the one who turns blue
Holding your breath,
But running a mouth so dry.
I am every plane that flies
Over the horizon
And in it, it dies.
Predetermined like barcodes,
It is generic, all the same.
They scan the bars like prison guards
And place numbers for your name.
You counted me out,
The lions are caged and whipped and they shout.
You are nothing but skin, beneath and above,
Blind to the touch wearing fake leather gloves.
You gave me your lions, but you were the beast,
A confirmation as sure as this ticket back east.

See Sun

We hop the gate before 2a.m.
Pushing ourselves over
Pushing against the clock,
With the perfect getaway
In a white Astrovan, flying stellar.
You're young and impulsive,
Never say never.
We youth write songs about forgetting,
So that we would later remember it all.
The night's too dramatic,
But everything's magic
Before the sun's second call.

Hamilton Victory, Defeated at Gwynn

The drummer boy taps his drum
As hollow as the shells that
Run down this hill we protect
With only the hair on the backs of our necks
Singed by the bombs I set off with our flares.
Ironic, once again,
Congruent to what was made pretend.
Will appearances to fear the worst
Adjust before the bubbles burst?
Tell the drummer boy to keep the roll soft,
Either the ether calmed our meager troops
Or the Dealer has come to revoke our youth.

For A Day In Traffic (Transit[ion])

Here we go, the greatest rewrite.
Windows down so that he might
Catch something he would otherwise
Miss. What are you excited about,
Looking for?
You know these freeways like
The maps on your hand, the creases
And veins that stain a bland blue.
Still, you look at these signs and not know
What to do at the overpass. Exit.
A hair tie on my wrist checks my pulse
And pulls the wheel in the right direction,
A reflection without you, I left it.

For A Day To Go Right

I steal moments
Because they are all that can fit in my pockets,
So sock it to me.
This block once knew me as king,
But now I'm a thief being brief with my impact
And compact with my contact.
The getaway scene,
My hands hold car keys to dreams
And receipts that sing in case I forgot
The reasons why I wish I had stayed,
A life that is best lived in retrograde.

The View Is Always Better From Jesus Hill

This pretty, smog-filled city is mine:
The stopping past the limit line,
The steep green hills and power lines
Buzzing with the current that is now,
That is driving with the windows down,
Thriving on familiar sounds
That kept my feet on the ground
Until the ground left with me,
Ascending several thousand feet
So that New Years was a distant sound.
And somewhere in that smoggy sky,
The fireworks burned out of sight,
The muted booms stayed in their rooms
While I drove home through a quiet night.

Quiet Running Reflections

Braced legs pace in different directions
With their perfect imperfections
From a sober drunk in a serious situation
Who was intoxicated from being lost and jaded,
As he faded faster than written words could have saved.
Proper nouns are erased, the braces come off,
There's a spring in my run, I'm breaking this off.

LED Flight Board

The stars stop by for a drink
Light from the moon, the river and sink.
The lapping water is close to us
With thousands of waves,
It knows it’s us.
This picturesque investment
Manifested itself on an A320 commercial plane.
I’m going home now, but it won’t be the same.
I’m too young to grow this way,
But this runway is a Lite Brite,
And these bright lights dance and glow.

Kite Flyers

To define abbreviations would be rather unrefined
But IHTFP would have to mean the brighter side,
The lighter sky, the clouds lose grip and softly slide
Until the palette of today, are the colors in our faces
T-shirts, shorts, frisbees, and good graces.
They all trace back to when this all started
Youth in my heart and dreams in my head,
We’re renewed and rounding the bend again
Lending out luck and holding out hands
If you lucky enough you’ll hold her hand.
But for now, we’ll feel the warmth through our hair
The sweetness in life, sprinkles thrown in the air.

The Car Crash Dream

A neon orange violation violently rocks my head
That bangs like the rusted windshield pulled up and let go
To see what measly dollars would be pulled from my pockets
Well at least this time I didn’t forget to lock it.
There is a crowed across the street
The loudest ones are those who saw it
Or who couldn’t stomach spacious metal
Now crushed like a coke can,
One that you’d find up against the divide
Of the subway stairs in which it had pried.
A thousand cranes couldn’t be made
So a metal beast of one had to do.
And as it was removed
The crowd did crowd as gasps and murmurs ensued
Bloody metal and chipped paint,
Mauled, a man who stained the sidewalk and stairs.
I turned around because I couldn’t stare
So instead I prayed to every saint.
God bless, wake me up from this mess.

The Clearing

I've been reacquainted with the blue luminescence,
True to the memories of my cloudy adolescence.
Brighter streaks were from the ones that we made
With our own hands attached to arms that made wings.
I'll let go of these roses, as they should be left to grow.
That is the sound of spring, boy, welcome it on home.

Reduced To Chitin

The heavens rained bullets
So we took praying for a shot.
We got on our knees in our hydrated clothes,
Our morale bled like ink
From our no-postage hopes
That forever lived in our flak jackets.

Our family lines were brackets
On a tree being broken, branch by branch
To make the arrows that went
Straight through our hearts,
While the rest were used for the monotone letters
Sent to our loved ones to tear them apart.

We whispered heavy hymns
That condensed at the top,
Through our mouths, dry as chalk.
Drip,
Drop,
Rain
Stops.
The clots in the sky are hushed for the night
So we rush to the source to find out who is alright.
And the T.V. spoke of some special kind of war,
It said, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

Rain into the Ground: A Disappearing Act

A concluding sigh tied in silent thunder,
The ghost ship finally goes under.
These youthful times all spent
We wonder where it went;
It slips without a sound.
A disappearing act,
The rain into the
ground.

Head Cocked, Lovely Bangs

There's an absolute balance that throws us all off:
When two veins intertwine, another heart stops
Trying to save us. The vena cava seems unstable
And the aorta contorts and ties into knots
Becoming a complex web, incessantly vexed,
Of flight plans and ambitious dreams woven.
But here are some chords with no strings attached
Finally, a song with no one to match.
It rings peacefully with no one to disturb it,
But it wouldn't hurt to have someone to deserve it.

In The Spin of Every Wheel

Here is your support,
Under the pressure and holding the frame.
Anomalies I cannot explain
Contain the syringe that takes
This place in vain.
And the situation replays in my head
With some nameless face and me instead,
A broken smile and broken speech,
A broken voice, I cannot speak
What I heard being spoken.
All the soft S's and shaky O's
Foil this memory in the purest gold.
But with no sleep in my eyes, I get out of bed,
But I'm glad to see you so happy again.

Preveiling Winds

Lovely, just what might this be?
Street lights, bare trees, dead leaves,
This is the reason why I left.
I'm a crusader trading colors
To the East from the West.
It's been six months,
Two weeks and five days
Swelled my chest and sung
Hoping these lungs wouldn't fade away.
Lovely, above me, the feathers flow
And for once I'm okay with just being alone.

My First Words After Breakfast In Bed

I'm reminded of some
Beautiful memory that I never had.
A high contrast morning,
And I'm glad you're here to provide some clarity
For the disparity between last night and now,
The sincerity of a breath you let out
As you exhale through smiling teeth.
We burn our hands pulling these ropes
For the strokes of pleasure when it's cut.
I pulled up the sheets and you fell underneath,
I combed the whispers through your hair,
Now light as air, you fall asleep,
Just a couple more minutes
With our souls in a heap,
In tangles, so tender and mine.
It's been a while since December,
I just forget to remember
That forever is a very long time.

The Second Flyover

Your bravado is too grand to grant you permission to land.
The ignorant gavel in your belligerent hand
Is enough weight for me not to stand for this injustice.
It slams down to mask the sound of your smirk presented,
A blade brandished and serrated.
Whether false alarm or your call to arms,
I'd rather mine dropped so I will not pick up.
Today was simply beautiful.
There was no cloud spelling out rain,
But these words as clear as the sky
Are exactly why I shot down your plane.

Two-Tone Video Heart

I dodged a bullet and felt good about it,
The surly roundabouts
Were teeming with wet fuses,
But I would not be the useful fire
Only used to let it dry,
I would let the ringing linger for a while
Until enough was a enough
And false sparks were snuffed,
Confronted by smiling gun,
I would politely step aside.
And once in the clear I would fear nothing more.
She and I would Scream
From our own respective shorelines.
Having changed for the better,
Having changed for the fun,
We curled our fingers and straightened our thumbs,
Having sung in a way we had not in some time.

Lens Flare

For months it rained,
For months it snowed,
But not once did this river cease to flow.
I was always kept reassured
Of the assertive undercurrent,
Concurrent with little drops of souls
Trying not to get lost on their way back to sea.
Trying to find your way back into me.
They trickle with the roar of lions
And glimmer as a river of intangible diamonds,
Once underexposed due to lack of warm light,
And were cut and forgotten under heavy red light.
But lens flares in your hair are the sign of night's end;
Look up and look good, kid, the sun's up again!

Melted Sugar Wasp

In a spatial agreement
Between weekdays and ends,
There are no breaths to be held
Nor a need to pretend.
Breathing softly
Hands on the back,
But not behind the head.
Instead directions are reflections
From rivers, windows, all untold
To be tucked away in the folds of my brain.
The thought is a stain that I won't clean up
I missed the elevator twice,
But angels find their way up
Because I always new this life was heaven-sent.
It is nothing substantial,
But of substance nonetheless.

The Table of Rounds

An overlapping night
Rapping in second English,
Royalty abound in every suit.
Witches cast their spell
So we're possessed by their brew,
In possession of their brew.
It drips on our lapels,
But we're compelled to expel
The demon's blues,
Brought on by no-bed reds
And cloudy-day grays.
The condition for transition
Is intoxication or exhaustion,
It is picking your poison to flush out your toxins.

Changing Frames In Solid States

I heard it coming from a southern belle,
Her spring face suddenly turned so pale.
The temporary unique felt free in her hands
Touching the past with overcast jazz.
Your conscious responses are all out of sync
You're flushed in your cheeks
From the leaks in your head.
These fluid thoughts
Are cooled and stopped,
Solidified in state.
The weekend comes a little early
And in its cradling arms, you're safe.

Lights Out And Then On Again

Incessant dents beat through the night
And take the long way finding light.
Just one day? Sure, it's okay.
Just one more? Yeah, that's alright.
Another night?...Do I have a choice?
Each night I pull, pulls at my voice
Until I'm in silent disbelief.
After all I've been taught,
I've forgotten sleep.
These rings will keep me up tonight
As I hope the bell curve serves me right
Because nocturnal hell starts very soon
And I'll be spinning madly with the moon,
Crashing like the waves induced,
Like flashing hours of no use.
I'll write my wrongs from black to blue
As the color dissolves like visible moon.
The light of day has just begun...
I'll say good morning to the sun.
I'll pay my dues in money, time,
And reach for the stars, but then fall back in line.

Foothill and Volta

My yellow hoodie looks so good,
Shining brighter than the sun,
My wayfarer shades look hipster-hood
Keeping me hot like smoking guns.
But there's one shot I'll take
And it's sporting home attire,
The freshness coming out
Just as the temperature gets higher.
I felt a liar with my coats
To hold my warm thoughts close,
Draping all my sun-soaked summer dreams
In cold New England ghosts....
But here comes the sun!
Na-na-na-now,
Here comes that proud Los Angeles one,
Always looking west
When he's looking for some fun:
The beach,
The view,
When he comes home soon,
Oh, and masochistic runs!
He's found stability in the east
And has solved and resolved things,
He's noticed blossoms in friends' lives;
It's the coming wave of spring!

Mismatched Flight Plans

While this empire was built out of guilt and desire,
My brittle bones in a tepee were stolen, broken down,
A stick for a brick from shattered past
To shatter glass as a plane roars over
And I'm drowned by the intimidation's call,
Echoing off of invisible walls.
Pattered inhale and shaky lines,
Lying on a set struck under red curtain fire.
I'll just walk off the stage, I'm late for the flight.
(The conclusion trails off and fades into the night,
The name has been shortened and by now loses sight.)
So now it's time to count the reasons to come home:
One is to family that I can call my own...
And everyone else will pull back like rubber bands,
Trapped under wine corks and fermented bottle caps.
I'll just get on my knees, pray to God, and dig deep
Because I won't find a savior after thirty thousand feet.

Apex

I've been crumpling notes
Now their ghosts are fulfilled,
Their hauntings slid off of the cold window sill.
They now float with the flakes;
We can't correct mistakes once they're made,
But we can put bells in our hells
To make the worst words sound great.
Exercise heart and remark on its strength
All shot up with holes, but with no goal to sink.
The cardiac muscle was stretched,
Now relaxed since the past is caught up,
There's no need to look back.

Mr. 500

Whether our blocking is static
Or the facts start to change,
Every day's breath is one more to say:
The show must go on...so turn the page!
What a life so perfectly pitched and staged
With Murphy's law, a perfect storm,
And ending score perfectly played.
These lines aren't lies I'm paid to say
They're alternate spellings to
This name that I've made, comprised of
Christmas music on a cold night
A someone by your side,
A fire in your eyes.
Laying down a sweaty beat
To harmonies we keep,
Making a memory settle in deep.
Digging out courage to dig up the bones,
To make love not alone
To make this heart a home.
Oh, what a delight when these hands are full of light,
And I see it every month when these memories bind.
When picking these stars up from under the door,
And it opens to show me an ethereal shore
Where lapping waves and sandy pages
Make life's unbreakable bonds.
These Fields are real and where I belong,
I'm five-hundred strong, and longing for more.

Architecture in Life

The poor boy is just a score
Foiled over a tinny memory,
A light under the table
Vying for something Clark Gable would pull;
Instead I pull in my chair and sit delightedly.
A memory hindsided me when I looked away,
When I looked around without the grounds
To say anything.
I just sit back, relax, and relish their talk,
And compare their lives' cycles
And the patterns they plot:
The segregated groups with gossip complete,
The drama, the heartbreak, a high school repeat.

Sizzlers at the End of the Week

I was shook by sun,
Awoken from a slumber numbered low,
A solid dream tearing at the seams
With ghosts of what I needed know.
Itchy with integrals stuck in my hair
With genotypes, phenotypes,
See, no one is there to make a capital letter,
A dominance like the prominent annual weather.
And whether or not it was what I was seeking,
The literacy narratives were certainly speaking
Incessantly, restlessly, needless to say,
Working non-stop for this unconscious day.
Disconnected body and brain
That the rain short circuited,
Hot-churning all day.
Ease is that thing that I've almost forgotten,
Open-palmed, soothing balm
And a brain stem unknotted...
It's easy to forget all but what we will have
And you don't even know how I want it so bad.
The freedom to breathe,
The freedom to sleep,
The freedom to keep on the beat,
The freedom to see onwards into my dreams,
The freedom to freely be me.

A Slice of Advice from a Postal Local

"It's not all hookers and rock clubs and surfing!
You California hippie, don't "chill, bro, chill" me!"
It turns out, to churn out the most effective test,
Don't pregame, skip, and then postgame the rest.
We'll get over the humps when we're under the weather,
The results may vary, but we'll all go down together!

Relay: 2 (Purple)

Everything is in slow motion
As the commotion dissolves into a muffled mist,
In which a soothing consumes
To put a kiss in your hand.
Arms spread, your wingspan,
With feet only lightly touching soft grass
That is flush in the presence of elegant spring.
The rush of the air makes your joyous lungs
Sing out! Bring out the the life
That the the clouds tried to hide!
When the world's upside down, your eyes paint the sky
And your hair lays down in silk roots and branches
And rivers expansive...I dare not take a second glance,
Staring at the sun for another chance
To take a gander at a dream,
To break apart the art received.
It's more than life's colors, in which these eyes are caught,
It's dancing with imagining and playing with the thought.

Today, One Year Ago

I made a correction in your name,
It was the best I could do
And it was only for you.
Your little precious in an untidy meter
Summed up by alt. rock
And my short stint in theater.
The heater was on, we both felt a bit cold.
Life's grind against dreams
Had chipped off the gold,
So I said settle for the silver lining.
You can reach for the skies
When you have the right timing.
And I left it for you to put it in line,
Right, left, right,
Baby steps, one at a time.
I erected a vessel to get you out
And it remains in your name,
Even up until now.
So when the constants aren't constant
And the problem is human,
Just grab hold of the wheel,
Because you know what you're doing.

In Boston, Reppin' L.A.

A rush too much of what could go wrong,
I'm feeling skittish for these skits,
But I guess I couldn't quit now;
Just tell these brains to sit down.
So I sit down with a handful of glass bullets
I'm hit now with going through it,
Straight through the heart
And the measurement of time
I could not draw the line
Between finish and start.
Nostalgic, shameless
The stage, spotlight.
Ironic, painless
I'm whisked from the stars...
It was getting late and I was debreathed
For the Far East had found their way
On to the West Campus,
That stamps us the best house around,
I felt an accent coming on,
I felt my feet lose the ground.
Until 3.a.m., it was a Red Cup Social
Where we kicked it like fam,
Like we were supposed to.

Know What You're Missing

I'll make myself a name with a catchy subtitle,
Because up on that shelf
Of the things that just couldn't be helped,
The hooks are overrated,
And the storyline pining has gotten outdated.
Yeah, they're better off kept as ornaments
Since at the moment,
I've got my own pen scribbling,
Nibbling at the mind candy called change
Once I've dusted trusted places
And have these faces all arranged.
I'm surprised these books have kept their spines;
They're colorful, dirty, tattered,
And mine.
Torn and worn in, still all unsorted,
Like the state I was in, but then left in '09.
The mountains bowed and the waves waved goodbye.
At least I could have sworn...
California, I should have warned her,
But I've worn winter jackets and seen eastern shore,
Though I was born in her arms in a t-shirt and shorts.
Nevermore, not to worry, I'll be back in a month
And for the better, without a sweater,
The old me will be gone.
Tummy, tummy, pocket, pocket,
I've found my precious friends, now lock it.
So don't you bring me down,
With your lead heart that I'm dismissing.
Not long from now, I'll be back home,
So that you know just what you're missing.

The Allstate Guy Has Great Hands

It is smell of cigarettes and failed ambition
That puts my condition into perspective.
There is no prescription receptive of
These waters, the hotter they get.
That pass down my throat
Leaving a coat of regret.
Who is the envious one
When you look at the person to your left,
Where getting what they want
Is getting what they get?
Why is the person to your right
Living their dream on only the inside,
But have somehow convinced themselves
That they will die alright
From the satisfying sight of a gratifying end?
What are you doing looking at your shoes
Though comfortably fit,
Uncomfortably you?
If you ever saw anything,
You'd saw off the memory,
You'd dissolve all your enemies
And call out with no cause.
Underline all their flaws
With an underlying scowl
For their pride in the style
Of living on the prowl.
Yes, these bothering waters are a natural light,
It's the scent that we rent for the descent of the night.

The Deep Red Gem That Purifies Light

I'm bringing shovels, but never bricks,
I'm drawing sticks instead of straws,
Breaking my jaw trying to break even
Without ever breaking bread.
But every day I'm getting closer
To breaking my head
On this concrete realism,
The field on which I am played;
The flagrant foul was that I stayed.

Silly-Invented Turned Misdirected

As I was told, this is when it starts,
The pink-slippered twirl, tender tearing apart.
Putting sheets over dusty bones come to rest
To be ruffled, hear the muffles of
The other life coming next.
She makes spirals in wrinkles,
Her ankles, the axis spins out of control.
Twisted revealed
Shortly after he healed,
The same crooked mirrors
Just a slightly difference face.
The same crooked stories
To run circles in a race
Where you erase the tracks you left before,
And the lactic acid, you ask for more.
Abhor the cycle, but stay in line
You're a ticking bomb, going off every time.
Because you were never really on it
And it was never really known,
So with that same dusty sheet
You gather up your bones.
It's condescension up a hill
And renown around the bend,
With abstract thoughts in concrete boxes
And the foxes smoked out of the den.
You've got to blur the details
To clearly see the circle's end:
So long to the best one,
It's on to the next one
To happen all over again.

Recursive Mechanics

Calm your steps, pace your breath-
I c-an't, I ca-n't, I can-'t, I c-an't.
Give me space, but I need air
So that your kryptonite kite
Can take flight with my breath,
Wishing you the best
While cursing under my breath.
Pulled back into orbit,
Fooled me, you did!
Playing to weaknesses,
Snapping to grid.
So, quantizing hope in the direction of sun,
I am counting these squares in reverse,
Back to one.

Are You a Friend of Pavlov's?

It's all a performance,
Steady your chest.
Your ribs are shaking out of tune
Pattering lungs, you're turning blue,
Itching with twisting of adopted mannerisms,
I scratch at them like fleas.
I plead that you won't kill me
With my own name, please.
Nonetheless, I asses the losses:
Shitty paint with shiny gloss,
And hardly enough time to let the coat dry.
It's a reservoir played pretend,
At least by then, who would choose this?
She said, "You must be a friend,
And you can, call me clueless!"

Baby Face

Remember that dream you had
When this time, for once, you weren’t so mad,
Where you met her again
To make the same mistakes again?
Let’s be vague together
As we share this stage together,
Since it’s so hard to silence the beast
And despite these cracking guns,
We are so far from peace.
The iron of your barrel,
My bayonet's teeth,
The irony in your idol that would soon set you free,
That would not let me be,
That pulled us apart when we were just getting there,
Because we are too old to dream and too young to care.

In the Theme of Belligerence

I wish I could rhyme
As if I were drawing nines,
But I'm sawing off any recollection
Of the collection of thoughts for memory.
And this lying wouldn't mean anything
As I let them lay down the beat
Before the blackened crystal sea,
And rather meet them festive after.
Let the smiles mix with the laughter,
The pool room and the chapter,
A good friend and the older ones,
More fun with less disaster!

Magnitude

Take this one in slowly...
Now let it out the same.
The LCD is tame,
You remember your own name!
Now stop, close your eyes;
See the color on the inside.
Greater than the orange
The red,
The pink,
The veins that drain.
Your heart, once a sink
In which the love poured.
Looking back or looking forward
Frankly, I don't know
The sun is setting
The sun is rising,
My mind's horizon glows.

An Independent, Crooked Smile

Without demand, an explanation
And soft vibrations throughout your hand.
You don't need to read your laces
With nervous spaces in shaky shouts.
You can leave your compensation
The sensation will come about eventually.
So wandering words can come to rest,
You can brush them off your heavy chest.
Words more sensitive than the dust in your eyes;
Breathe, my friend, there's one more in your life.

Dreamscape '08

In the traffic-lit 2 a.m.
A good winter in heart with the other in hand
Denotes tenacity, audacity from many moments past,
Scotch tape intoxicated, feeling intact.
The taste of the waste blinds with echoing walls,
I trace with this touch the crossfades on your palm,
The scent of my thoughts draws from two years back,
And thus, tea tree leaves preserve footsteps in sand.

Anticipation, Here I Come!

Drawing conclusions with thoughts full of lead,
Heavy thoughts in my head,
Creates the hazardous dread of falling down hard
So they are carefully decorated with my guard.
An ode too early to earlier on,
A friendly unforgiven, just given the arms.
The harm in this armistice
Is betting an incomplete table setting,
Washington, lost in a gray bedding.
Tentative bets set in summer's June,
Because you cannot see a brand new moon.

Social Lubricant

I had been digging my own grave,
Adjusting my bow tie,
Telling myself I'd been brave,
But a spark was enough
So I stood up.
A thousand emails cleared and a shaved beard,
Some sort of inherent power.
I'll shower myself with delusions for a while
Top-shelf-picking in an endless, nameless aisle.
Sticky situations won't make joints looser,
But a goop, goop, goober,
Something really super
Will sooner amount to something more
Than a poem and a picture door.

Response

Retracing days,
Facing forward
In a backwards train.
The slush of steel wheels on track
Addressed with your name,
Pushing air through pursed lips
Rushing life with nothing to grip.

Poor Satellite Talk

Gentle streaks of orange

On indigo lavender,

I circle the date as I sit on my calendar

Trying to make sure

Despite a design made by nature

That these days won't float away.

The process is cold,

But it won't snow today.

Let's peel off these sheets like bandages

And try to find the advantages

Of getting out of bed,

Full of bed bugs, hugs,

And retrospect lead.

Who knows how I will deal,

But it's time I've fully healed.

Little All-Stars

I am listening to
Two,
I am listening too
To,
The silent hum of golden lights
Looking backwards,
Sleeping alright
All tight in a bundle
Fighting the cold with an undersized throw.
Huddled, I muddle some words I don't know,
Trying not to show the softest spots
That I could never get rid of.
Black and red with a cigar
A younger dead when you're born
From the stars.
In darkness, discussing life's value in motion,
Taking the absolute value of emotion.

A Sense of Propriety

The magic triangle in the bottom left corner,
Structurally sound as it stands,
It grants you entrance to an escape.
Intoxicated peace,
Cards, cups and pockets
Electricity without sockets.
Los Angeles is an ocean of soft fire
And I lightly pinch the spark
That dances on this one wire.
A single tingle ascends my arm
A little more startle,
A little less harm,
A little less charm,
That now dangles from your phone.
Smoke dances on the drapes
Names are thrown,
Some stick like tape.
Others slip like ice
And swirl back like the deepest eyes
Dressed up or buttoned down,
This is a joyous, boisterous sound.

The Components of Us

And this phrase overused
Fades into a spacious blue,
Sky-cracking harmonies
Outdated words fall harmlessly,
Bouncing off strings with a dinky little ring.
Oh God, I'm singing so loud with a smile on my face!
Filled with warm shaking, things I can't replace.
The direct object has been subjected to this:
It's time to close this chapter, kid.

Transition-Free

It's funny how things are always different once you get there,
Different in how you felt or,
Different in what you expected.
You ask yourself, "Who's protected?"
But some things must go
Unpreventable,
Unpredictable,
Unprecedented.
A sudden jump into sullen waters,
A wooden thought knocked
Before fading into fodder.
Good luck, you masochistic hopeless romantic,
It's time to do the maths and the sciences,
Don't panic!

Saigon Guido Cash

The smoke of cigars sets on your tux.
The sucks and blows in an elegant drag
Form the tag line for "class" and we are enough.
We are the trust in the bonds that we make
We are too much with wine glasses that break,
Raspy voices, hasty choices,
We're all out of tune,
And we won't be leaving too soon.
Swooned for like a sex fiend
Swaying, sipping like a sailor,
Savor this fraternal love,
A gentleman's true gentleman's club.

Twilight

A sign perched against the dawn-graced window:
Dead end, fall asleep...this is all pretend.
Bend the wire, press repeat with pistons on fire.
My body is weak from holding my own
You've stood stubborn ground
Meanwhile, I have grown.
Forgotten like shots, forgiven if not,
Kindly, no room for many other thoughts.