The Real in Us Is Silent: Last night in first person

Axl Rose and JD Salinger

An orange red horse
and familiar mustard font
bled all over my shirt

"Is that Catcher in the Rye"

I nodded yes
He shifted his legs
Trying not to sink into the couch

He asked where I got it
I told him
And what was once admiration
was now condemnation

He sat up and preached at me
like fiery John the Baptist
"How many times have you even read it?" he accused

I lied but only a little
And he, like Caulfield, thought his gray hair fooled me

But I know I'm not a phony
He likes Axl Rose and I like JD Salinger

I would never ask him
how many times
he'd been to Paradise City


The Angel of Redlands

I sat in a too deep dining room chair
drinking a warm Corona
and asking myself
why bother?
I don't even like beer cold

Katy Perry was dancing
Like a fool
In front of what seemed to be
A heavily sedated crowd

Why don't they just broadcast the Ball Drop
and spare the "live" performances
of whoever was on the iTunes top 10
in September when they planned this debacle

"Hey guys, what-is-up?"
A not so eager voice
From a not so familiar face

I felt sorry she was dragged into this gathering of life long friends
"The plan is to get wasted and crash here"

My pity eased a bit

She is from Redlands right?
She works as a vet technician
I jokingly mistake it as a veterans technician

She casts the comment aside and makes a smart remark
like the joke was on me

I found it funnier now
than had she detected my sarcasm

She went on explaining her life

Uh huh, Uh huh, Uh huh
Uh huh, Uh huh, Uh huh...

Roughly translated
that was "I don't care"
six times in succession

She left us alone
and me to my cynical observation

Back to the brown couch where she made out like drunk people do
Unabashedly open and embarrassingly unaware
It looked to me like two sucker fish
With mouths agape smashing into one another


Before I left home

It was near 930
I lay in bed by the light of my desk lamp
Reading my new Bukowski book
and debating with myself what I should do for New Years

I think that was the most enjoyable part of the night.

We are the ants on New Year's Eve

New Years Eve is a cliche'
Nothing more than the passing of a second
An artificial rebirth upon which lofty expectations are placed

Watching the ball drop along with last years resolutions
The frantic search for a New Years embrace
Like ants scurrying to pick up the pieces of colony
Carelessly crushed in a pithy brawl
Grab what you can, because things will be different next year

Next Year
Counting down the 365 day clock
*tic toc*
to all zeros
The hang over from last year doesn't feel like a fresh start
But dammit if there isn't a feeble promise in the heart to change

It is as brief and meaningless as the golden sparkle in your drink
But I still love it
For who can say what the future holds?

Life once again is an uncorked bottle of champagne
So let us reveal our stemware and drink to uncertainty

You said so go

This was a previously unpublished draft. I'm still undecided whether it was worth resurrecting.

Why do I fall so easily
When this girl wears hip clothes
Or that girl likes great bands
Or she cut her hair just so

Just so I would get tangled in it

They're like good dreams and I wake up constantly
It's not even about placing them on pedestals
When I just want somebody to dream about me

Which sounds selfish
And is selfish
But asking no more than I already give

I want to look at her eyes and see that I was already in her mind
Or gaze at her lips and know my name was on her tongue
I want to know when I touch her hand my fingerprints were already there
But most of all, I want the certainty in knowing
If it never happens at least I had a chance

I'm not sad, just tired
Exhausted from being alone too long without a break

Hell hath no fury

The stone tables at In-n-out below the ten freeway are a fractured mess of polished brown corrugated granite
With my forearms sprawled across it's surface I could feel loose salt granules sticking to my skin
The air was thick and warm
That December was nothing like this one

We sat round the stone table as friends who'd spent some time apart
Like former lovers trying to find that old spark
For once, their eyes fixated on me as I embellished the story of my lost summer
I think it fooled all but her

Of course the one I wanted most to pick up where we'd left off was she who seemed to barely notice I'd come back
(I wonder if I ever really did)
Her neck struggled to turn a complete 180 as she seemed compelled to look anywhere than at my face
At this point all I wanted was a smile
Something to break the monotony of her distracted demeanor

But she wouldn't lend it to me
I'll never know why it happened that way
But we were always closer on paper
There was something safe about that ink and bleached pulp barrier

Even now the dirty tables outside of In-n-out are a terrible reminder
And no amount of damp rags or rainy nights could cleanse them

Because I still feel the loose salt pitting my arms when I think of her ignoring me

A kiss on the hand at a holiday party (and the ensuing lamentations of brokenhearted freeway driving)

God we're all junkies
Aimless addicts to a thing we called love
The way it compels you to feel
Like absolute trash
That my worth would be lowered if you were to leave
That me before you is a person who died
Because he ceased to exist the moment we crossed paths

And so we lament the past
But ignore the time gone by
Forcing meaning on meaningless times
She wasn't that great
No human could possibly be as flawless as this fictional sprite conjured by misfiring synapses in the folds of our mind

But we need it and we repeat to ourselves ad infinitum
"I don't know" "I don't know"
like its a mantra for relationship recovery

We were all knocked out cold by a swift sucker punch
But we praise the assailant?

Where is the logic in that?
To hell with it all.
We were better off never having known the pleasure of a four letter word that starts with L
and ends in morose monologue

Passing on the Throroughbred Lights

We could be so close to gain warmth
In this frigid winter night
And my mind is intoxicated
With the thought of being intertwined
So I lose control

And distance myself from heat
from your trembling body
And I wish to God that this night were over

Sometimes you win and sometimes you choose not to

Before Finals

I don't usually post like this but this is my favorite scene from one of my favorite movies. This is the last scene in Before Sunset. Without context it might not seem important but it means pretty much everything to this movie and the preceding one Before Sunrise.
Plus this song is great.

Pulling the plug on Christmas tree lights

Christmas bulbs kiss the darkness
with a glow like pursed lips
A subtle tug on the heart
Being willed out of complacency

Good memories are sometimes more painful than bad
And I miss it all so much

Just like Old Times

Innocence is a thing best forgotten
A line crossed uncrossable
The screwy warmth of limerence
The joyful ignorance of unwarranted sanguinity

Love used to be a healthy feeling
A catalyst for action
The be all to end all

But too many nights sitting up in the dark
Too many days waiting by the window
Wear thin on thin hopes
And turn pilots into poets

The only real pain is not in unrequited love
but unfulfilled potential

What might have been said
But wasn't
What should have been left alone
And was dwelt on

It's just like old times
Cloudy winter eves
To bounce thoughts off paper
Like headlights reflecting in the puddles

The beautiful blurry version of reality
an impressionist painting of the ordinary

There are times at night when looking up at the sky
No longer inspires much more than a cold
Though the evening feels spectacular
Immediate and vast
Don't be fooled into believing the moment
For the stars are only the memories of lost luminescence
Falling in love with the emptiness of space

It is no more divine than lemmings scurrying off a cliff
And forcing love is the same way
Like blindly committing suicide,
The romance is lost somewhere between soaring dive
And bloody impact.

Rough Draft of The Next Chapter: The Drive Home Was A Supernova

I met Adelle at a party George took me to on my winter break. I didn't know anybody there and imagined I would spend the night in a corner slowly drinking whatever concoction they were handing out.

But I reluctantly agreed to go. I was stir crazy at home.

George always went to parties. He was always invited. The ladies flocked to him. He knew how to stand out in a crowd. I could blend in.

George was confident near the point of cocky, but most girls ate it up. I both admired and abhorred that side of him.

I couldn't talk to girls. We spoke different dialects of the same language and they had no patience for my vernacular. Still, I naively thought that someday a girl would want to try and she would be the one worth really knowing. George would say that beggars can't be choosers.

The party was in a sizable house in the foothill suburbs. It was typical of the area; three car garage, perfectly manicured lawn and a white stucco finish. If the coldesac was a mouth these homes were all molars.

Inside was a similar story; wood floor entryway, white rounded walls. Subtly furnished and garnered with random nostalgia free items. If felt like a model home. A magazine version of the nuclear family dream. I had a hard time believing the pictures on the table didn't come with the frames.

When we arrived the party was mostly outside. The smokers were relegated to the outdoors, even on an extremely cold January night. We approached the smoggy huddle like Indians to a wagon train.

I scanned for the nearest wall to plant my back and disappear. I questioned why I would put myself through this.

In my mind the the group criticized our every move. I could taste the tension. I felt like the obvious tourist at Disneyland. The guy who photographs his family up at every ride to commemorate each joyous occasion. The guy with a Goofy meets The Gap denim baseball jacket.

"George, you made it!"

A girl rushed toward George with a Corona in one hand and cigarette in the other delicately placing her occupied appendages around his body.

George smiled and exchanged greetings with her. Then he introduced us.

"Hi, I'm Evan."

She shook my hand with like an overenthusiastic used car salesman.

"Hi, I'm Odd!"

She laughed at herself like it was the funniest thing in the world. And it wasn't pathetic. It was cute. Not because of the corny joke but because she treated me like we were already friends.

She was electric; like the glowing ember of her cigarette. She took a long drag and grinned at me.

"I used to smoke a lot more, it's a filthy habit."

She reached in her bag and offered one to me. I waved my hand, slightly embarrassed.

"I didn't think you'd take one, I could tell you were one of the good ones."

I never wanted to smoke more than in that moment. It reminded me of one of my favorite songs.

"And I could taste your lipstick on the filter..."

She buttoned up her bag and turned back to me, pointing a sarcastic finger.

"You know you'll outlive us all though."

"I hope not," I said. "Whats the point if all the best people are dead anyway?"

She was lighting another cigarette, delicately teasing the edge with her lighter.

"Yeah, you'd miss me too much."

She laughed and put her free hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, you probably think I'm the weirdest person in the world right now, you're like 'I only just met this crazy chick', right?"

You're right, I can't believe I only just met you.

"You got me, I'm totally inching away as we speak."

We both cracked up at that one and I thought of the song again.

"Your advantage left me helplessly into you..."

Everybody at the party was Adelle's friend. A random blend of different lives, captivated by one person. Meeting her was like waking up from a coma.

On the ride home, George asked me what I thought of the party.

I thought Adelle was great.

"I had fun, it was better than doing nothing all night."

He agreed vigorously.

"What did you think of Adelle, she's cool right?"

Yes.

"Was she the one you had a thumb war with?"

I acted like I didn't recognize the name. Like her's wasn't the only one on my mind.

He chuckled to himself like drunk people do.

"Yeah, shes super friendly man," he said twisting his arm out the window tracing the blurry traffic. "You should talk to her sometime, I'll give you her screen name."

I smiled a bit, betraying the nervous hope coursing my veins.

In the black of early morning, I thought only of Adelle. Every car that passed me, whispered her name. The city lights flickered like her eyes when she took a shot.

But as so often happened on nights like this my thoughts shifted bleaker than midnight shadows. The empty freeway was a tunnel without exits. I feared my right foot would jam the gas pedal sending my car careening into the center divider. A beautiful fireball of burning gasoline and charred cloth.

And as I let the flames engulf me, my heart would be a supernova. An all consuming flash of splitting atoms and quarks approaching critical mass.

I feared expectation. I feared George's offer. Adelle loved everyone. But she just couldn't like me. I wasn't fun like her. I wasn't cool like her. I was just me. An astronomical mess of doubts and expectations mixing inside me like domestic beer and cheap vodka. The thought made me dizzy and I nearly threw up.

This is so stupid. I don't even know her. This is hopeless. I wish I never met her.

I was in love.

Mayflower November Shower

I'm so suddenly aware of myself
I can see how a fire I started was burning me
I built it for warmth
but didn't move when the flames cooked my skin

I laugh at myself
I thought I saw your soul
But it was just me in a foggy mirror

The emotions were calculated and robotic
Like dreams, I controlled every aspect
and was still surprised by outcome

A slave of my own free will
A captive of cages I built from the inside

On the outside
I see the bars were fashioned of paper
and the whole world was just a mache globe
I painted with pity

My life's creation like a 3rd grade science fair project
Proudly displaying my participation ribbon on a bloated chest

Thanksgiving Day +1 hour
And only now do I see what the pilgrims could not
Desire for a better life is not manifest destiny

My Future In Puddles

I feel like this storm
Billions of particles of my being
Accelerating to oblivion as the earth draws near
An oddly soothing sound for those in a gentle sleep

But I am not like the calming drone of water droplets
I am the chaotic randomness of tiny explosions
Crashing and combining before being ripped apart again at ground zero
Wondering where I might end up

After struggling to stay in the clouds
Life finally slips from my grasp
Tumbling downward to certain demise
Rain is my tears as much as it is my heart

My future in puddles
And your puddle below me
While I take aim and let go

Any pool of water will do at this point
But I want you to know my drops were meant for yours

Getting over myself

Honesty
A seven letter word like a lost letter
forwarded to me after years of return to sender

You have only you to blame
-Truth

Its a foreboding message.
At first outrage, then fear
I panic
I read the address

Steven M.
Your House Your St.
Your City, Your State, Your Zip Code

It's mine alright
Well maybe truth is broader than that
Certainly life's difficulties could share responsibility

You have only You to blame
-Truth

Its so simple, no room for negotiation
I can feel my throat start to close
The very air itself is against me
Nobody wants me to succeed
They can't understand how my mind works
But why do I still fail

You have only You to blame
- Truth

Alright I get it, but I'll show you someday
I can beat this thing
Years after my death they'll tout what I did
But even I know there isn't much certainty in resolute gesturing
Despair

I've ruined myself, my life, my future
Destined to be an also ran
I need hope now
But I'm having a hard time getting past the truth

You have only you to blame
-Truth

P.S

You are not alone in this, accept it and move forward
-Humility

Mall Break Up, The (short) Story of Eleanor

If it wasn’t California it might have snowed…


Mid December, just days before the pinnacle of an ever growing season.

The lobby of the local mall was decorated to the very tip of every fake plant and guard rail with reds and greens and sticky faux snow. The bustling crowds swirled around us like a pool on the bank of a river.

I can’t help looking around at the different people, if it weren’t for that fake tree in the center plaza I’d have a perfect birds eye view to this holiday mess.

“Excuse me sir, did you say you wanted blue cheese dressing on your salad?” said my waiter.

He was a short clean cut fellow. I would have placed him at 17 or so, a lot younger than I thought would work at a place like this. Old enough to grow some facial hair though, as he proudly displayed his 5 o’clock shadow that no doubt took weeks to trim just right.

“Yes,” I said while nodding, as if either affirmation wouldn’t have been enough on its own.

He smiled and walked off to another table. My guess would be future store manager, or assistant manager. He had all the makings of a guy with low level management suck up skills. I bet when he is off work, he wears a blue tooth headset connected to a Blackberry on his belt.

“You need to stop judging people, Evan” said the girl sitting directly across from me.

Her name was Eleanor. She was cute, short, dark-skinned, and, at the moment, a little annoyed with me. We used to date, we might even still be going out, I don’t know. I don’t really know why I’m here.

“How could you tell?” I asked, half admitting she was right.

“You have a look about you when you stare at certain people,” she said, softening up a bit. “It’s normally followed by some joke about them, but ...”

My mind wandered, she spoke but I didn’t listen. The candle on the table was lit, but the restaurant was still too bright. The little flame couldn’t beat back the white glow of a cloudy afternoon.

“What’s wrong Evan?” she finally asked.

Her face was genuinely perplexed, but also worried, like she already knew the answer but hoped to God she might be wrong.

I could hear O Holy Night being played by a quintet of horns. I think I read somewhere that when the Titanic sunk, the band continued to play. My ship was about to capsize.

And there it was.

Eleanor represented so much for me. She was, for all intents and purposes, the first and only girlfriend I have ever had. She was Genesis, day one, my Eve. The culmination of so many things I had longed for. How many Christmas’s were filled with a happy fulfillment of my desires yet, for the first time, I got exactly what I wanted and was handing it back.

I can remember the first time I asked her out in a round about way that could only be described as mine. I was afraid she might say no, but in the back of my head I knew better. I had her; from before day one I had her in the palm of my hand. I knew she would say yes. There was no real risk. It was written in her eyes. But I guess it wasn’t in mine.

“Evan stop daydreaming and tell me what’s wrong,” she demanded. “I think I deserve that much.”

She was right. I could hear her now. Clear as day, my mind came into focus. I am here to break up with Eleanor.

Its funny, break-up’s happen on regular basis yet there is still no right way to end something as substantial as a romance.

I guess it isn’t really that funny. Now that I think about it, I’ve never done this before. Another first for Eleanor. I wasn’t nervous though, for once in our relationship I was confident.

“I just think we should…”

As the words finally hit Eleanor’s ears, her demeanor changed. She wasn’t sad, in fact, she seemed prepared. I mean, I think she might have been sad, but she wasn’t surprised.

Instead of crying or fighting she just nodded. It was more like that sweet release, pulling the plug on a patient that had been on life support too long.

The vent above released warm air into the chilling atmosphere. On our table, the candle between us flickered and finally gave into the breeze. All we were left with was a softly weaving thread of smoke and the check.

How you were inexplicably in my dreams

In the deep sleep of a warm Saturday afternoon
I had a dream and you were there

You referenced things we seemed to know
like they were the shared experiences of past dreams
But you weren't in them
How could you know?

In the dream we sat on a couch with no cushions
and I felt uncomfortable
maybe because of the seats
Or maybe it was because you were there
Out of place because I never dreamed of you before

However you were nothing like you at all
And you started to entrance my friends
With the sort of mindless sensuality of intoxicating sirens
running ships aground with your song
I watched it all unfold as you serenaded your way to intimate closeness
nearer, nearer still
But farther, farther from me

In my dream I started burning up
You kissing gently the lips I did not own
And it felt so wrong
And you seemed not to care
As he brushed the hair from your eyes and held you like I could not

I ached with jealousy I've never known
With each moment of my silence I cried out in my mind
Until the thoughts played the air like invisible instruments
and they rang audibly in desperate plea
"Why are you doing this?"

In the dream I ran outside into the dream world night
The sky was purple and glowing with energy
I still felt too warm
Wondering why on a cold November evening I found no relief
Why the rocks and trees around me were caged up
When they possessed no ability to move anyway
And neither could I

Paralyzed, puzzled and hurt
I wished my dreams were dreams at all
Heavenly impossibilities we wake up from
With no memory except of the good feelings

But I remember you vividly

I remember you in my dream
And how it felt more like a nightmare

A little something i've been working on

The static sound of crashing waves...

Soothed the soul for an entire community of lonely hearts.

The sun set hours ago on the quiet beaches of Balboa island. The burning ball left a brilliant flash of light before sinking below the silky smooth waters and blanketing the sky in a quilt of darkness. Yet, through the pitch black of night, a glow of lights illuminated the shore.

Tiny seaside shops and tightly packed bars lined the sands like a row of Christmas bulbs on the edge of a lawn. The rectangle shaped buildings were staggered in height and placed without regard to their neighbor. It was as if each house was an island unto itself.

To the west was the dim outer space of the Pacific ocean, sparsely speckled with late night sailboat cruises and 24 hour oil rigs.

To the east were the denizens of a late night bar scene, hopping from one watering hole to the next like nomads in a moonlit desert, searching for a place to quench their thirst.

Thursday night was the new Friday night and all the college kids were dressed to impress. They were a termagant sea of skin, cloth, and hair, flowing in and out of one another before evaporating into the quiet streets.

Tired and alone sat a tiny oasis called the Fair Spanish Lady. There were no lines stretching around her structure and onto the roads, but she was by nobody's estimation means a sleepy old pub.

The right people knew about her and she stood like a shimmering jewel on a gilded crown. The other bars were flashier but the Lady had real worth.

The waters pounded the shoreline, but what sounded like thunder up close was reduced to white noise in the Lady. She had that effect on people. Absolute calm and serenity, the kinda of place to unwind and relax.

A stunning brunette and her blond partner laughed loudly as they ordered their drinks. The ice in their cups softly melted as it was met with the powerful tonic. The brunette was devastating. Her long legs were accented by her dark denim skinny jeans and bright red flats. She was stylish and hip, a hypnotic blend becoming a trap for wandering stares. Her skin was a lightly dimpled brown that invited gazes like a pet shop window. Her eyes were a dull gray with a hint of green that shone like unpolished emeralds in the low candle light, a treasure offset by her wry, knowing smile. I could not take my eyes off of her.

Everything was a blur. It was like the whole world around this girl was tuned out and unimportant. Maybe it was the booze or the onset of late night exhaustion but in that moment she seemed to slow time to a standstill. Nobody aged a second in those few minutes. She began to move back and forth and up and down to the steady beat like a single buoy in a briny stew of captivated drunks, all the while weaving herself in the meandering guitar lines of some hipster My Bloody Valentine knock off.

Her billowy top delayed her movements, clashing with the jingling costume jewelery and silky smooth hair. One foot, then another, eyes closed, glass in hand, she was a work of art. Something to behold, someone to be held.

Her blond friend turned toward me, briefly making eye contact. A smirk materialized on her porcelain lips and vanished behind her twiggy digits. She whispered something into the burning brunette's ear. For a moment it appeared her entrancing dance might be interrupted. Her eyes opened and she stared right at me, still moving. The crowd held it's collective breath, hoping, praying that the last note of the song would be the end of her display and not this sudden interruption.

My heart dropped like on the back side of a roller coaster apex. They caught me looking. Sitting with my friend at my table, they caught me looking. I thought about slowly loosing my gaze, but it was too late. So I just smiled; a sheepish, slightly embarrassed grin, hoping for the same.

It seemed I might be in the clear. The brunette sipped her drink ever so delicately, the alcohol thinning in color as it kissed her lips at such a precise angle. She set the glass down, and threw back her head with eyes closed. Again I was stunned.

"So Evan, I heard you broke up with Eleanor."
My eyes snapped back to attention, back on the cool, wiry figure in front of me. His name was Josh Minster, we had been friends since high school.

"Yeah, things just weren't right or something," I said lifting my glass for another drink. "I don't know, I think it was the right thing to do but ..."

I closed my eyes quietly and sighed to myself.

"It's over now though."

Josh shook his head up and down vigorously in affirmation, with all the confidence typical of a near drunk person.

"You gotta do what is right for you,man," he said slurring his speech slightly.
I looked away, unsure of the sanctity of my inebriated friend's advice.

"To a brighter tomorrow," declared Josh with his mug raised.
Reluctantly, I met his glass with mine.

"I hope so."

I literally dove into the drink, immersing myself in the faded bliss. Cold alcohol poured down my throat, killing brain cells and memories. The liquid seeped into every fold of my mind, nearly drowning me in drunken stupor. When I finally came up for air I had just enough presence of mind to notice the brunette was making her way toward me.

A wave of fear replaced the alcohol induced euphoria. It was that sunken feeling one gets when they know something bad is on the cusp of occurrence.

She approached the table with an unsteady wobble. Her eyes were half closed and there was a stain on her sleeve from a spilled drink. Party Foul!

I felt myself getting smaller and smaller as slumped in my chair. Despite seeing pink elephants, she was still beautiful, she was still somewhat aware, and yet she seemed to be approaching me directly. Even in my wildest dreams I would not have imagined a possibility of mutual attraction with this bombshell. Something had to go wrong.

My skin flushed with bright colors, like a broken chameleon. She stalked her way towards me still, parting the crowds with machete like resolve in an inebriated jungle.

Then it happened.

The moment. A rush of anxiety, what would I say? What should I say? My stomach turned and twisted inside of me.

Then, in a move that would make Michael Schumacher proud, her blond friend, who had been drafting behind secretively, pulled ahead at the last second and got right in my face.

"Why were you staring at my best friend Stacy?" she blurted out.

She was piss drunk, that much was certain. Her eyes were lifeless and unfocused, her tone was blunt and I think one of her shoes was missing.

I cautiously looked around to see if anyone else was watching this confrontation. They were.
What was there for me to do? It was bad enough to be caught, but to then be called out on it, my mind was in no condition to be dealing with this.

"I um, I didn't mean anything by it."
The blond scowled at me, and in a fit of righteous indignation began to tell to me why I wasn't nearly good enough for her friend.

I just sat there while her vodka tinged breath rained down on me. There was a hint of lime.
It was so typical. A completely innocent stare was met with unbridled anger when it would have been welcomed or sought after from a more handsome guy.

Still, sitting in a chair face to face with this intoxicated banshee was the most intimate I had been with a girl in a while.

The brunette dancer pulled on her friends left arm urging her to stop making a scene. She mouthed the word "sorry" to me before finally subduing the beast and exiting.

I missed Eleanor.

Hmmm... Random lyric in early morning

I, I, I, it's always me
But I'd rather talk about somebody else
Like you, or him, or her
I'd rather let you know how great I think you are
Than how sad it makes me feel
Or that they said something wonderful
and she wrote something I could never
Something so heartfelt and real
It needs no metaphor to cover up
I would like to write something positive
About how someday I would find a muse
that wasn't based in the incapacitating feeling of not being able to tell her...
But was genuine praise
Shall I compare thee to a fabrication
because none of it was ever true
I present these lies as fact in my own head
So as to distract my thoughts from the epiphany
That I can't stand another year of this
but it looks I must
Keep writing your own sad songs and I'll make things up for mine

The Infirmary

There are things nobody wants to understand

Why pain is fast fading
But sorrow lingers

Why at 3 O'clock in the morning
we fidget our feet
and writhe like an arthritic hand
Thinking about things
that were so long ago
It became fiction

Why when we drink
Liquor drudges up the dirt
instead of cleansing it

Why a part of us is missing
but only we can feel the void

It's like we are bandaged casualties
wounded in wars already decided
still bleeding out

Members of an infirmary without doctors
Self medicating in the mean time
And silently praying for a cure

A New Canvas

Poised and confident we extended a new hand
As the old ways step aside for new directions
Tired smiles and heavy tears
Emotion welled up from the depths of our being
A new nation was born on this night
Out of a tenured and difficult struggle
Pregnant with division
The world as a stage
together we walked to the podium
And a people painted their hopes on blank canvas
Like a country of artists and this is our masterpiece
We declared this night, as many with one voice
It's time for a change
And this is the first stroke of our brush

The will to be a lightning rod

I think she was the kin of lightning
bright and brilliant and startling
A piercing pure light
then calming quiet

It's the soothing silence that intrigues me
the time between slicing blade
and trickling blood
the crackling, shattering thunder

The air is vibrating with her vibrant glow
and I'm just a child waiting by the window
watching the rain
counting the seconds as she gets further away

Because lightning never considers the boy in awe
She merely strikes the highest points and moves on