Sacre Bleu

Between curtains the sun shines like your eyes the night before I fell asleep. Right now the lights are out and so is ambition... while these lethargic wrinkles in the sheets keep me company. Thinking of the sunset from the suns point of view. I can not (sh)allow myself to do this anymore.

During the day all of the suns rays point to the art of keeping up disappearances... and autumn is a season full of scents and spells that keep us coming together. I really just want to spin every negative thing from this year around and make it spit out confetti for you. A parade for your encouragement. Love is forever, so get out while you can.

My eyes are a full moon and you are the wolf, making my pulse stream in reverse. I know you only loaned me your heart for the winter, but would you mind if I borrowed against it?

Nostos

In the middle of the night, when we've all become clocks with too much time on our hands my conscience is clean and in control. Taking deep breaths just to exhale looks and whispers. I feel like Isis, welcoming history back to life.

Lately I've been impressed with the way that a single voice can make a deafening sound. I have witnessed hearts that forget their place in their own chest. Beating without a purpose is just as bad as forgetting to. Breathing at the bottom of the lake beats screaming at the top of your lungs. I am your sick day.

First class before the take off and I swear I'm coming down alive. Let's skip town with nothing but this investment in ourselves. God bless rewind, not repeat... because I only want the best part. There are no connecting flights through Casablanca but it'll have to do. Take me back to any street car you desire. I still love you with eyes closed.

De(spite) All Efforts

The side of his house was painted gold with all of the promises that he had made to himself... and was peeling with the ones that he broke to others.

Her parents named her Hallelujah, but she made everyone call her Holly. Her blackened eyelashes were clogged with stories that her wrists were too torn to tell.

Atop the tragic drone of his words and the piano that he struggles with, she claims that this is not love. Frustrated, he stops long enough to remind her that this love is a dangerous habit, and that they should do their best to enjoy the challenge. Whether they choose to believe it or not, they are their own fix. Their bodies remain paused in their struggle to find love, while the world below moves on.

Days have passed as she wakes first with blurry morning eyes that just want somebody there. The dirt on the window seems to signify the way that the sun will never shine on their skin the same way again. You never really see the picture clearly until you're out of it. Life in the form of a Georges-Pierre Seurat masterpiece.

The vertical split in the curtains makes up for the lack of spine on his back. The stories he can't tell reveal themselves in the way he slurs and stutters excuses into the pillow. Whispers against ears that know better but perk up anyway. Her heart ticks like a makeshift time bomb. A quivering cache on the wavering justice scales. Is it enough, is it enough?

Manifest Destiny

Another show plays on the radio. Reminding me of the days that I felt so far away. When I was young and had no one to play the part of me, but I learned the hard way how to find myself. So what if it's why I'm here alone. I still heart me. Even if you think you're better off. Sad is the way that it's been so long... since I've been home, and lost a part of me.

Another show plays on... reminding me that those days are behind. Nobody knows. My stomach shrinks for their dollar signs. Insure me not. Pardon me. I guess my wealth will cover these sores. The mirror hates me now. I know you do to. Financial burden am I. That's all I ever was.

This world can spin like the truth. Hang a left and please turn right towards me. 30 years of age and 30 pounds less. Maybe we all grew up on a street that we never really lived on. I'm just the lonely boy that loves you and would love to share it all.

I've spent all of this time saying your names like a prayer, and still haven't been saved. Make it loud and make it count this time when you yell "I'm sorry."

Going Out The Hemingway

This is me putting it down on paper. Please pull the sheets over my head and tell the world I'm sleeping in. Mr Sandman can recite today's lesson in his sleep.

There is an opposite to deja vu. They call it jamais vu. It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time it feels like it's the first time. Everybody is a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.... except this definition.

This isn't learning from my mistakes anymore so much as it is damage control. There is no success quite like failure. Trust me. I can be a character witness. Tears could make canyons out of these cheeks.

I've been in a shy world lately, though there have been thoughts picking at my mind like it was a lock. Down but not found out.

Your smile is the only place that I feel completely normal in, and I swear at times I can see the big picture in the small of your back. Tattooed behind your ear, 2 stars... directions to foreverland.

Nelson Algren And The Stolen Typewriter

Her name was devastation, and when she was around it was always better to speak low if you were speaking of love. All of her old friends bled to death from the holes in there stories. And while their blood may have dried faster than the ink, the latter will always make a deeper impression.

Never regret your best intentions. Write them down late at night and sleepwalk through history with me. We are a story, slowly unfolding. When everything is a little out of line we'll make our move to escape. It's now or forever.

Lightening on thunder. Sleepless. Sometimes when the lights go out, so do the feelings that matter the most. I'm pretty sure that the night light was just invented to keep the conscience awake. I only want to exi(s)t.

Dear Charlotte, it's just not working out.

John Berryman Saved Mine And Took His Own

From the steps at St. Patrick's. Do you want me to tell it like boy meets girl, or do you want it like a murder mystery? I think I'm going to tell it like a comeback story.

The night that we connected I was expecting a classical arrangement, but her kisses were just white noise. She was the type that gathered gospel from gossip magazines and bar talk. Salvaging sermons from message boards and scene reports, she was always trying out new testaments on the guys sitting next to her in bars... with bars in their windows. I don't think she was ever aware that her grievances still showed when her soap box unfolded.

Lost in all of the lights, she connected with the clever kids. Knowing that it's too hard to feel holy when you can't even come clean... she came to in a confession booth.

With nobody around, she climbed the cross and found that she liked the view. So she put her mouth around a difficult question and asked the Lord what he recommended to a real sweet girl who has made some not so sweet friends.

I'm not sure what He told this soft girl in hard times, but I know that I'll always forgive her for forgetting how to sing the high notes. She speaks so much better in chorus anyway.

My Wonder Years Ring Like Thunder

Cutting ti(m)es. But not like wrists... more like the tension in the room. Keep falling asleep on everyone. This is where it all begins. The scars and the stories of it all. A firing squad of the nervous system.

Stay awake all night so your eyes blacken around like your insides feel. Not alive or dead.

My mind is(a sun)set. Allow me/these final words, to be your stepping stone.

Do You Suppose There's More To Life Out There?

Sweet fluorescent evenings fight the spaces between your arms and mine. We're on the edge of something new. You're laying with wide eyes closed tight tonight while I'm watching the mist rise from the lake underneath a patchwork sky. I'd like to say this is all new to me but the truth is that it's repetition. Cycle me something better than us.

I believe in your finger tips when they're spider webbing my shoulder. I'd love to show you Manhattan rooftops and water towers. The truth is, I don't even recognize the bloodshot eyes that stare back at me in the mirror lately. There is true contempt in these once broken eyes.

(l)earning your trust.

The Deep End Vs. Shallow Hearts

What if you peaked early? What if the clock was counting down towards who we all really are? The market place just might have failed. Now hang on to the truth as the rest of this brings us all back to zero. Cheat. Lie. Keep a calendar. "Oh darling I know what you're going through."

I've got a heart shaped like the United States. Dominican love around my wrist from NYC. Midwest shimmer from kindergarten finger paints.

Happy (pret)ending. There is more than life left in these lungs. Watch this...

Suite Heart

She goes to parties just to hook up with intimacy. She swears that love and accidents are the same after the sun goes down. Someone is under the blanket, and you can't remember their name.

Pull my heart over. Speed limit signs for ambition. Just hit the (heart)brake and call it even. You had me figured out from the first time we crashed. Because I think of you on the tip of my finger, and you twirl your hair with yours.

In her dreams God gives out second chances. So she stands at his front door like it's Halloween. Still angry at forever, yet grateful to the hitchhikers. To the people we stopped for. We'll use the stars as a blanket one last time tonight.

It's All A Pill From Here

The curse of Carolina... the world will tell you, I'm better with a ticket in hand.

Been wasting my time standing in corners of kitchens at every party wondering what the hell I was ever thinking.

We're all a gallery of broken hearts, so come on in and see us on display. A museum for the lonely. Hope the lights hit us just right so they can criticize, and form the correct opinion of what the artist was thinking when He created us.

They close their blinds to people dying. Imagine that.... these bullets I'm swallowing are you.

Buffalo... This Country Was Built On Their Backs

She has a nicotine palette and I'm more than sure that she has broken the rules playing Russian roulette a time or two. She is subtle happiness for the down and out generation. I think I'm her blood type and I'm currently trying to convince her to swap veins.

My hands live on the outskirts. There is something about her in all black, and the way her skin sleeps under it. Lightning in my head for the world to see. I'm chasing the greatest story (n)ever told. Watching moments flicker behind my eyelids, as I twitch throughout the evening.

Each glimpse of you vanishes in mid-air... right in front of me as I struggle to wake. I will forever be love... after the fact. I can't wait to be epic with you.