Whatever happened to the moments
we lived for
the moments we lived from
electrifying lives
currents of passion
high voltage that knew no resistance

what do I have to do?
to feel the surge
to feel the spark
to feel alive again?

Is it in the tomes?
Is it in the songs?
Do the muses hold it in the walls?
Is it inside of me?

Searching for the switch
to send me back to passion
To make me feel charged again
to make me feel in charge again

In the absence of everything,
I felt a sheer yet painful bliss.
I longed for stimulation.
A soft breeze from a drafty window,
the whizzing of a broken furnace,
the shriek of the floor as it was pranced upon.
But all of these things would not be enough.
I am lonely because the hour is lonely.
But maybe we're not so lonely, because we're both here together.
The hour and I are not alone
because we both are lonely.

I was pushed into a cold pool
with all of my warmest clothes on.
I chose cold and heavy over nakedness.
How long will I shiver and stumble?

Thousands of electric pulses
scattered in confusing patterns.
Imagination convulses,
tattered, mind under matter.

Enveloped by space and time,
pardoned by neither,
eloped by both.
Pacing.

Shooting from the hip,
mind's eye is blind fire,
pawing through the labyrinth,
waiting for the shift.

Hopeless.
Blunder.
Shocks.
Over.

Holding long to longing,
longing, holed to holding,

I ode my tale for bold forboding.

Swiftly shores sung,
ripping, reaping, revealing

I stopped just short of saint-like stealing.

Madly minutes mumbled,
syllables stuck, syrup

My thoughts no longer mine to stir up.

she was a whirling merry-go-round
  shooting through outer space like an
  intergalactic firework

he was a grey pond where
  no life could be sustained

she floated when she walked like a
  snowflake in a gentle breeze

he called her tinkerbell

she turned all she touched to love
  setting fire to fear and
  sprouting hope through the
    salt-and-pepper piles of ash

he needed her like a
  flower needs a bee

she brought goldfish to his grey pond
  and lily pads
  and cat tails
  and shades of color
    warm and cold
  planting and painting a plentiful
    landscape

he now had this
  entire ecosystem
  inside of him
    living and breathing
    growing

she stole his heart
  to replace it with a
  habitat for love and art

i never drop my bread crumbs
when i sink this far below the skin
how can hell be humid
when naked of its kin?
i'm pawing for the walls
and grasping barely air
never bracing for the fall
i cannot seem to care

this cornerless void i alone exhale
- whatever i heir -
i resonate in the broken bricks,
this cobweb crypt to where
i drudgingly drag all my demons:
my bones - a cage, a lair

you'd reckon i'd learn
this thousandth time
that the undead
be they buried
never will they die

and never do they leave this crypt
- their home was once called mine -
how could they take residence
in all of my goodbyes?

I told you to run while you could,
get out before it's too late.
because I was the friendliest to strangers
and the strangest to friends.
My heart had never been open to dividends.
But your strangeness was similar to my strangeness: pushing out of fear - or had I made you that way?
You despised Mr. Hyde more than I did, but you loved Dr. Jekyl fervently with more compassion than I could ever give him...

I told you how it sometimes felt like I was living another's life... and looking at it now it's like I was sitting on a perpetual swing: x distance forward and x distance back.

We lucked out for so long because I would pull when you would push, and when I pushed you would pull me back. And for a while we both pulled. And then forever onward we pushed. Or forever wayward. Sometimes pulling in doesn't keep people from going away. And when you push someone, you can't expect them to pull you back. Because not everyone is sitting on the same swingset.

Comfort in silence
No air to be filled
They said.
Comfortable around
The other.
Dead air or
Dead connection?
Starting fires just
To know we were
Both going to
Get burned.
At least we were
"Both" something.
Silence never slept so peacefully.

water the plants
first the dying
then the healthy
but you've forgotten
which one is which
or just haven't paid attention
so the dying
wilts away
leaves turn to a frown
as green turns to brown
you smile away
at your green succulent
as the other fades to mold

curdling in the scarcely defined corners of the world
praying for change
falling into martyrdom for something you'd never believe in

I'll wither away
curl into a cane
from a sword that once was so gallantly played

leaking tye-dye
which colors are my true colors?

some people bleed false colors
some people bleed all colors.
and some people just bleed.

paint me a picture
paint me a pick, sure.
paint me a sad, sad lullaby
where tears fall like feathers
instead of lightning strikes

I'll lie here on the floor in wait
crying til you hear my call
But I'll whisper wisdom while I whimper.

I pray you'll stay away
I pray I'll trip into martyrdom
I pray you'll paint something
and you'll pray for me to pray.

I won't pray at all.
or you'll pray you never prayed for me.

I want to run
feel the sunshine on my back
as I sprint down the western highway
footfall upon footfall
the sun will not fall
instead it leads me onward perpetually
like a guiding hand
Letting me know
it's okay to run
and never look back

people write poems comparing
smiles to sunsets and rain
and stars and meteor showers

eclipsing entirely that sunsets give way to the charcoal wraith of night
rain riddles the most novel of metals
supernovas sink entire galaxies
and meteors are just meteorites with less ambition

but what about earthquakes
and black holes
and wildfires

rib rattling
song swallowing
too close for comfort

what once warmed us to our core now leaves us in embers

and still we burn for more

Speak your mind and burn ephemeral,
peace in time, a gem, an emerald,
Speak no more, your words desert you,
deep you bore, perched, they hurt you.

Words are birds, they're always fleeting.
Away they fly, at ev'ry meeting.
They cost no pay, they're often freeing.
Away they fray, from you they're fleeing.

The branches broke, they gave to nothing,
beaked by blokes, you must be bluffing,
With broken wings, you hobbled home;
withholding brings forgotten woes.

You dared to fly, you reaped the ceilings,
at dusk, "Goodbye!" - a tale of telling,
You sold none short, you bought your longing,
no silver tongue - you earned their thrashings.

In shadows, taunted, your aura lingered,
its presence blossomed, incessant it spurred,
Forever haunting, a black crow in turn,
in droves of white doves, "At last!" - you were heard.

I took your
Favorite food
Favorite artist
Favorite ev'rything

And buried it deep.

I took your
Haunting holdings
Haunting thrashings
Haunting ev'rything

And buried it deep.

I took your
Lasting laughter
Lasting impact
Lasting ev'rything

And buried it deep.

With such depth I dug
With hopes to never repeat
I'm reminded nightly
In dreams and restless sleep.

Like telling words I choke on
A secret, seething, breathes
I gathered all your mem'ries
And
I
buried
you
deep.

Words can move mountains
Weathering away every grain of dirt
and every gram of rock.
Time is their ally.

Building mountains elsewhere,
creating a whole new paradise.
New valleys and new peaks
awash with possibility.

Debris blanketed the plains.
The same mountain lay diluted.
Except now it was anyone's to venture.
My mountain lay in ruins.

Rubble could be rummaged.
From it, castles were built.

Silence did not sanction.

I just want to be moved.

When you mourn
are your tears in vain?

Upon the scorn
you felt such shame.

Disadorn
emotion plain.

End the war
without refrain.

Ten years have passed
I feel the same
just more worn
more tired

In retrospect
has it been worthwhile?

Ten years
that may never have been.
They call it selfish.
Because the nods are one-to everyone-I-know.

I just want
to want.

Ten years
of lessons I wish I could peel back.
so many songs
I'll never unlearn.

Call me the bard
of self-loathing.

Ten years
of crawling on the gravel.
Can you help me pick
the glass from my elbows?

I'll focus on that small,
sinister lantern for ten more.

they give
their blessing
ask if
you're alright
not really
wanting to
know the
answer
because the
answer
might be
just what
they fear
and what
they fear
is that
they don't have the time
to hear
your cries
and not
be sunken
by them
they don't have the time
to lend
their compass
and not
lose their
own way
they don't have the time
to heal
a friend
a lover
a flesh-and-blood
who might
just feel
the same
as them
but
more gray
they have the time
to attend
a funeral

I am just as evil as you are.
That damming claws at my ev'ry choice,
but steadily I will hold the bar
and 'member my inner sound, my voice.

The call rings. I answer with virtue,
recalling reasons not to hurt you.
You spout your hate and project your pain;
pain - that chorus I will not refrain.

Sometimes I wince and curse the earth
and others I rinse and find rebirth.
Sometimes I lie the dead night awake
to try to burn before daylight breaks.

The saga lives, I'm tired of its tail.
I'm using all my strength to prevail.
The serpent slowly slithers around,
but again I bring the giant down.

I can't fathom the depth required to indulge in trust.
The possibility escapes me at critical moments.
At moments of possibility,
At moments of change,
At moments of new life.

A larva.

Here is my word, hold it sacred to you. It is my life, hold it as
though, if dropped, the ground will swallow it whole.
Here is my shield, you may glance, gawk, or gaze, but
this I hold sacred for when the ground swallows my word whole and reincarnates it as everyone's air to breathe freely and wholly.

A butterfly.

You may have my word.
-----------------------------------------------------------­------
Hands stretched exposing their webs, and then
flexed into white-specked fists; and then again. And then the hands stretched. The ground unbuttoned as the word descended clawing at draped silk.

A butterfly, wings tattered.

Capture. Torture. Exploit.
--------------------------------------------------------­---------
The atmosphere was encompassed with dread and longing -
a smog of guilt, anger, and repression. Diamonds lied on their sides and bled tales that stung the ears of all in the vicinity.

A caterpillar, hope helms.

Bleed. Infect. Repeat.
---------------------------------------------------------­-------
Passerby after passerby shuffled along with wide eyes and hushed whispers. Faint feathers were pressed outward, hitting people like bricks and leaving craters behind.

A moth, lights negligent.

Judge. Sabotage. Forget.
---------------------------------------------------------­--------
Dignity lost and feeling next to naked. Covering myself with my token. My word builds; my walls build.

A larva.

Heal. Scar. Fear.
-----------------------------------------------------------­------
I can't fathom the depth required to indulge in trust.
The possibility escapes me at critical moments.
At moments of possibility,
At moments of change,
At moments of new life.

Solemn, somber,
do you ever wonder?
What dreams we've lost
what was the cost?
We gave up all we had.
to our hearts we played faithful
to our hearts that were frail.
I'm smiling but I'm sunken
seldom slumber, awakened
these nightmares, we will shake them.

This haunting will fade,
this everlasting, forbade
from the grand sleep
a phantom, a shade
Whispering, a wick
burning slowly in the dark

Minutes mumbled
seconds slurred
time was timid and blurred
furlongs faded
miles masqueraded
and light years - what's the word?

I would have loved
to know
you searched the way
I did
That you dug for
every bit
there was to know
about me
That you scoured pages
upon pages
to see if there
was anything
you were missing from
my biography
That you hammered out
my name
in every search engine
known to
man That you wanted
to know
who I was connected
to and
how we were connected
That you
refreshed my social media
pages several
times per day just
to see
if there was anything
I forgot
to tell you. That
you calculated
the likelihood of my
emotions based
on the time and
what I
had been posting That
you thought
about my motives for
every post
every article every store
every movie
every question every curse
every call
every text every word
That you
spent at least some
of your
days completely cocooned in
the possibility
that I may be
someone entirely
different than who you
know just
for the sake of
wanting to
think about me further.
That you
might get so lost
in me
that you forget to
get lost
in you

Two roads diverged in a wood
so I sat down on a bench nearby.
I watched as wanderers walked,
ambling or ambitious,
choosing their own fate.
Some stood a while.
Some sat next to me, twiddling their thumbs in ways no longer lonely,
outstretching their physical means to find a mentor or guide.
Some prevailed.
Others plopped down next to the bench, cross-legged with their heads in the hands or meditating with their fingers in the air.
I stared off for sometime.
Travelers came and went, boarding trains to near and far. Others didn't need the tracks but longed for them anyway.
I sat there for years, wearing the same old hat and coat, wearing thin elsewhere. Who do I want to be? Where am I going? What is my purpose? The only answer ever arriving in the form of some weary-eyed traveler.
We would lock eyes, expose our souls, mutter remorse for it, and they would move on.
And then I would watch the wanderers walk some more.

How do i fill this void?
Habits die hard, good or bad;
i haven't decided which of those descriptions best fits the habit i held,
the habit we held
together.

It's surprising at best how i've managed
to hold myself together without the adhesive quality that your love provided me.
You were the glue to my broken heart.
Was i the glue to your anything?

Ev'ry time I feel your breath
I sink further from sanity.

And when you burn, I patch you up
I complement your vanity.

The gifts you bring and songs you sing,
From clouds they lightning down.

And when you show your other face,
Enlightened, I can't frown.

The stairs I walked, the voices that talked,
Again will lead to heaven.

Cherries, treasure, it's been forever,
Again will land a seven.

Can you capture my pain
with your photographic heart?

Can you whisper my name
through a telegraph or card?

The pictures I cut, I kept.
The pocket I thumb, you left.

Your voice is like a train whistle
Coercing me towards delusive home
A siren by the aisle
Whose lulling call is deafening to my ache.

In dreams I hear nothing
In dreams I hear only your name.

Won't you bide the waves?

I write the words.
You decide their meaning.
The music is mine,
The lyrics are yours.

I'm sorry we didn't meet like love is supposed to.

I was sitting in my stale kitchen in a t-shirt that was two sizes too small,
and you were covered in horse manure in a stable in the cold - or so I imagine.

I'm sorry we didn't meet like love is supposed to.

I gave you my best pick up line,
and you read it.
A twitch in my leg told me you had come up with a verdict.

I'm sorry we didn't meet like love is supposed to.

I searched for the right words
because I had plenty of time.
I was just one of the nerds,
and well, you were a "dime".

I'm sorry we didn't meet like love is supposed to.

Three dimensions told the whole story.
I couldn't look away from your beauty.
You looked at me with the same red fervor.
And I knew you could see right through me.

I'm sorry we didn't meet like love is supposed to.

We were two out of thousands,
the city was ours.
But my lips were going nowhere.
And neither were yours.

I'm sorry we didn't meet like love is supposed to.

I sent the right letters,
and you sent the right digits.
Now I would write letters,
if only you would lend pigeons.

I'm sorry we didn't meet like love is supposed to.

I sat there wilting with your heart in my hands,
And it was symbolic at best the way my tears fell and mixed with the blood, a tye-dye of pain and exasperation.
Each tear fell heavier than the last as if the pain grew both inside and out.
Crying was supposed to help.
I thought it was supposed to be shedding
the pain of failure, loss, and rejection.
Instead, each drop just weaved its way into the pool of mysteries unsolved, sinking deeper and deeper until it was no longer clear exactly why I was leaking.

Sometimes I wondered if my heart
fell asleep
the way
my limbs would
when I would put
too much pressure
on them,
its awakening spurring spurns
that punished its daring ascent
Until the pressure had passed and so had time.

It's been a while since I've slept
A tranquil slumber, my escape escapes me.
mind running like a river, loud like rapids
holding my breath as it pulls me under.
choke on water, death is lurking, the irony is beautiful.
It's been a while since I've written
a painful thunder, my escape escapes me.

Some say
"Math is hard."
I grin
Hiding
Thinking
What I
Would give
To be
Able
To love
The way
Love ought
To be.

Sometimes when my pencil does scurry
Inside me stirs a worry
Is this mine or not? It is, surely.
Finished is the flurry.

he writes limericks.
and happy poems.
and even jokes.

i don't think I like him.

so I tracked him down.
used his username
to find his real name
and found his address

i walked up to his front door
on a dreary, Tuesday evening
knocked thrice
just to ask him why.

i asked him why he wrote
limericks, bright poems, and jokes.

"to pretend I'm not sad."

The smoke caught fire
   and burned the ashes,
   and like a wildfire -
   something beautiful
   came after.
Sprouting from
   the debris was a
   metanoia; one cannot
   help but think...
The way a serpent
   leaves behind its
   former walls.

the prettiest picture i paint
is biting cold, cobalt steel
counting down to
my great relief,
wondering if my teeth
will shatter
before eight pounds of pressure
turns all my thoughts, desires, and memories
into
the prettiest picture i paint.

Friday freedom
Monday malice
Drain tomorrow's
Sacred chalice

Yester-yearning
Today is bleak
Suppose I'll wait
Another week.

Huddled beneath the desk
The files found were less
The script I scribed not
Of false fellowship

Murmured were the verses
Pawing for the curses
My hands I lended
Gave all I could spend

Battling my vices
Tampered herbs and spices
My wrist I twisted
Shy 'way from the shiv

Hands spinning lazily
Tracks run, a maze in me
The map I crumpled
To bridges I shan't pass.

How dare you ever talk about
These phantoms 'neath your skin
You whispered all their whereabouts
And beckoned me within.

I told you not to search the scene
But listen you did not
Your temperament was so serene
You gave it all you got

The walls they swallowed all your words
Denied your basic rights
Unified in ecstacy, ver
Batim I yelled, "Lies!"

In masks they came to welcome you
Identities a plight
Weapons wept their caustic tears
Tearing up your pride.

Oceans owned our heart and soul
Together we shall smite
Who forgave the parable
And turned off all the lights

You didn't know me before the loss.
You didn't see the red eyes, the toss
As I daily flipped a penny
To choose passion or apathy
So your hardened smile
Waived my gaze that was dry in the rain

You saw a lesser fellow,
Broken was his ego
But only it was his wrist that did complain.

You knew the vessel that sailed
Had left his harbor empty
Not seeing what in his harbor did remain.

Would you listen closer?
put your ear to the glass of my riddled compass.
And search a little longer?
behind the not-so-old photos on the iris' mantelpiece.
And hold a little tighter?
White knuckles on a steering wheel after a close call on the freeway.
What ills me is not so plain.

No more my heart is molten,
A drifting wind is ridding,
The company of stillness -
It will grow grey again.

I fought from fear
fought for it as well.
Quarreled with love,
in hatred I dwelled.
Hiding in smiles,
always laughing last.
One can never
shove too soon; steadfast.

I spilled
my coffee
while it was hot.
I was
cold
and the contrast
was staggering.
It warmed
my
hands and not
my heart. My nerves
were jarred
sparse
they parted.
No one
knew my familiar brew.
No one ever told
me such
genius
came with such
loneliness.

Tell me my wounds are beautiful
And that the pain I feel is justified
Prove the pen is not my only friend
Sew me up and sit a while, be my time
The voice in my head won't fill full
We'll cry until we're numb as iced

To store
your pain
to savor
it near.
to cradle
it close
to nurture
your fears.
to harbor
the worst
and label
"For later"
To welcome
the sorrow
to be
someone's savior.

i opened
the protein
shaker, huffed
it like
one huffs
glue, and
hissed, "this
wreaks like
someone took
all the
trash, stuffed
it in
a sauna,
and collected
the condensation
to soak
the shaker
in!" i
think i'll
use it
tomorrow morning.

Take a puff
it's just once
finish me
lit quickly

Another
I'll smother
Open lips
closed eyelids
Burning fast
this won't last

Put me out
before you're burnt
put me out
before I turn

His head was caving in
  the way an aluminum can does
  when stomped with your heel.

The crunch cackled through his crumbling cranium.

The irony mocked him like
  a self-deprecating comedian
  who was all too sensitive.

He laughed at himself
(and cried inside)
His smile was a shelf
(on which he held his lies)

If he keeps holding
                                    he
                                          will
                                                  break.

games are played, activities
to pass the time

games are played with hands
and often the mind

games are played, your band
shouldn't knock the rhythm of mine

games were played, your sands
are lost in the depths of time