william / to wilt and untie

hard headed believing in a light
behind the smile,
when it turns out the light burnt out in the night
or was it there at all,
you bury pictures deep into my head and I keep the total,
in a list of everything word you said
the words have lost potency in their usage
and come to think,
their failures are endless;

---


I have become a cardboard existentialist,
a repetitive patchwork of broken grids
with no direct correlation,
I sit inside the train station powerless,
pushing the pocket lint into the cracks of my fingers,
shifting in my seat, grinding my teeth,
my brain burning in an echoing siren,
the aching thought that wilts me away,
brings me to a fever when i speak,
I force my hands deeper into my pockets,
and pretend that I'm okay, recheck my relationship to the edge the platform and the city that buries me, if this tunnel collapsed on me and think that everything would be just fine.

made in the wakeless morning being that I've not gone to sleep and my eyes have become red

images blacken like the edges of my eyelids
the tears funnel from tear ducts
making my eyelashes clump up, together,
alone as I do anything ,that's the truth,
silence and a slide show of pictures, I can recall every one,
it's brilliant, how the light flickers to faded,
but in a slow eventual loss of light
until
the sky each morning ignites,
the spark that fills the sky and it carries on expelling all the black,
until it passes each window,
the daily routines, the constant reminders,
the interactions and the actions that show you no one wants you around,
I find this out in leaving,
you fall for the comforting fill of a voice to your silence, the sharing of thoughts, the play of messages, you fall into it.
I fall in love with your bravado, your head strong light that you emanate cures the haze of this grayest of days.
How did this become a love song, when it's written while I'm alone?
Have I finally flipped my cap, imagining making you come back.
A play of pictures, a man hung from an ivory rope,
when he attempted to swing the strand broke.
A stream of consciousness that I keep to myself,
folded up in a fading memory.
your eyes are just as dark as mine,
we reflect one another
infinite eyes, until the opening
collapses.

modestly irrate

Buzzing refrigerator motor that creates the broken ambiance that forces me to acknowledge all my surroundings focus on my thoughts and create more issues, the awkward bulge in the right pocket of these jeans is a mean cigarette meant for a nicotine fiend, fiend dreams accomplish reoccurring schemes but they usually end with the loss of all currency, and when the accounts come down to a modest nothing now no entourage will suffocate you as your tears garble your wretched sound, croon to croon it is the drive that impresses you, the more pain you have the more work comes out these sickly fingers that will crack and stiffen to hold a pen that soaks up these rambling now and again, relax, don't do it, you'll never come to a conclusion, it's the horror of climax to return to prefix, losing sight of the suffix suffice it's purpose which is necessarily meaningless because every completion is private and defeated by inability to "let it out".





I suffocate the silence,
cup my ears to trying hide it..

sunday silence.

the traffic vibrations awoke me through my window
as I lay curled up next to it.
The unsettled feelings that makes me feel like shit
I have to repeatedly get to used to it.

in the morning we ate water

your fingers to floss,
the pluck, the wave, the tingle.
I am at a loss,
for words
I can't fit to a jingle.
little less than a minute to to 10,
little lost
I keep
doing this again,
but no,
I've only done this once...
a constant statement of false pretense,
we'll examine the words in and out of sleep
Your toes poke from the beneath a sheath
a feather
comforter.
You smile in between the epiphanies
you hit
at each point,
silently,
I can't help thinking
did I dream this up,
I pinch my palm
the pain alarms me,
I'm still up,
awake just two hours before the sun hangs in noon time.
In my head
these words are being written
on the back wall of my mind
A poem of the moment
I'll keep inside
because things like these might be
better to hide
Genuinely taken by surprise
the touch of lips, bodies in bed,
an ease into it .
here comes the calm, like a veil over my head
the curtains close, my eyes reopen and I can see you
face to face, cheek to cheek, nose to nose,
eyes wide open.

Timothy traded his life

for a newspaper headline

taxi under a bridge with a driver that seemed nice

but the conversation struck a tone that elevated to a turn off the road home

and the knife on the passenger seat became lodged Timothy's jacket

oh the headlines blazed in a stare 

beaming against the waters retreating outline

Timothy tried to lean forward for the door but he started to see lights

then with an upward thrust he punched the throat the driver

a lucky start to get him out of the car and down to the insterstate where he would have been saved

but sadly timothy could not get away

he was stones throw away from the driver aim

as he reared by the car barreling his way

timothy won't you kiss the stars

timothy we'll put your killer behind bars

timothy sleep well tonight 

because the world is cold under the stars' headlights

I'm sure you talk about me when I'm not home and as you caress your stomach in an endearing tone

the person on the other end  of the phone, it's not me i know, if found your notes

my name is not gregory, so i assume your cheating on me,

this is not the way friends act, guys don't usually keep their hand soldered to the small of your back.

I said to a friend, that my shifty eyes stopped dead when I saw you walking hand in hand

for a block, it was empty so I guess you were tempted, but you were too caught up to check

that red dot the smoke, the cherry of my cigarette, I saw you make out.

I saw you pull close to him and lean into someone's steps.

I heard every part of you as fizzled and those eyes I loved became vacant.

If you really ever loved me, you would know that I have a capacity to understand.

With a persona so bubbly, I could be fooled with the excuse that you just took him by hand.

But truly Julie, you should have looked where you stand, because finally you took a look to distance to check for anything before jumping into his lap.

but alas you never looked back,

alas I'm now part of story in your past.

But I'm gun hoe at times, so I picked up a brick 

chucked it a street sign it broke the lip lock and startled you two, as I walked the side walk away from you.

The house lay empty a testament to defeat, that some man came in front of me.

My tv dinner in the kitchen sink, that I'm too broken up to eat

I left your things in the hall, in a box marked don't open this just go.

I see know point in conversation, because I don't need explanation to comb over the empty words lingering in your head.

Every smile and laugh I have to question each one we had and there validity if this is how this would end.