sweaty hands

my life is
well, chaotic is one way to describe it
the feel of your hair on the bridge of my nose
right before
well, you know.
so this is what it's like to be punched.

only, not.

all my punchy phrases and pithy cries
pleas and please say goodbye
i could be dealing in bones, ladies
watch out
(i would, if i were you.
one day i might use my knowledge of pain to
well, sever my fear of it)

but i'm not.

the moon was the size of your eyes, tonight.
like hers, only she's fiction and
perfect for some guy who's not me because
let's face it,
i'm just not into that.
i could call it sudden clarity but that,
that is a word reserved for sober drunks
i need teeth to describe this.

i don't have them,
if you were wondering.

i see ten thousand roads
and robert frost can go to hell for all i care
because none of them are less for wear,
and this isn't a fork it's a goddamn porcupine
and hey,
i'm stepping on it.

i have a confession:

i hear everything. your words are like candy,
guilty, guilty, guilty
and i hear every word and hell, i know you're right.
but i wait for two hundred eyes to realize it's true.

normandy

dead waters
thirty-thousand sighs
you took me up and strung me
down.

and if i had to ask
i'd ask you why
why would anyone ask for this
oh, dover's cliffs
they sit forever
pulsing sounds of saline cries
you gathered flowers
lilies
why?

my eyes are sloping
two sockets full of love
they cry for water, oceans
wouldn't cure this lust
and somewhere, somewhere in this
cosmic coincidence

i drew the short stick

frozen

i felt like ice long before
you touched my skin
silent words
wrecked our tears, turned them
green with envy two octaves
down, the undertone
saying
"we can never be"

and we can't
but i will remember you,
even if you forget
dreams of ice and candles
lit for goodbyes and hello
dulcet piano
playing softly farewell

december 3

too late
to the party
(one month, to be
exact)
your irish body
strewn about
like
well,
a corpse.

you rogue
i always knew you weren't quite
gone.

season 2

i'd always dreamed
that when my heart broke
we'd cry our way out
home
believe this war is worth love
eternal damnation and hey,
you don't know what it's like to know
flickering dreams, what's stored
inside (this isn't apocalypse,
this isn't what matters)
i'm bad i'm bad i'm-
so, so sorry.
you always could break my heart with a look.

just keep walking.
it only gets worse from here.

(i hate the smell of your fear)

piano key

tonight, the rain has whispers.
smoke curls curtly up my side,
silt drips from my eyes,
tears from yesterday's lullaby.

they said we were a cut above
but i harmonized anyways,
cut a chord out of
broken men who hadn't learned to fly
to walk off the edge and forget to die.

addendum

(and sis,
you were right
it wasn't me
taking flight.)

karaoke kid

your wilting smile fell
on the floor next to all this laundry
signs of disuse (abandon portraits
and all)
it wasn't a lie when i said
i wanted you
but it wasn't the truth
i just wanted my ship to come back to
shore

and i put you on because
well, you matched
and the rest of it was dirty and
old, and sadder
and you wore me out
because
i wasn't who i am.

the truth is that
i wanted you to need me
(to lean on me, even when you
were strong)
and i wanted your smile to be
just for me

i guess that's twisted.

i'd always dreamed of picket fence
lining lives we've led
hero dreams or whatever
strewn about like these clothes,
cast off because
this life is good enough

but i guess i was wrong.
(i fall short
and your smile's too long).

the price

the sky was what i got
for saying
yes

ten steps out and
i meet the apocalypse,
steadily marching army
and beneath it
the moon, silken sky
darker than anywhere i could
possibly run.
(you know, i'd die for fun).

so i'll retreat (or run)
from cycles
and wisdom
and world war two.
but one day i'll fight it
and that one's just for you.

tall grass

a hero dream would be nice,
craggy cliffs and
that moment about the hair
and resolution and
the sparkle on your cornea
that too
while rambling freaks
soliloquize about how much
they loved us
(i mean, me. you never let
anyone love you. you don't exist)
circus redemption and hey
you could run away, if you wanted
but i don't think you do.

thanks, blake

that time i awakened me
you stared ahead so vacantly
i had to scream
but nothing would come out
so i picked up my cliche
and stuffed it in a suitcase,
vowed that i would leave this stupid town.
but i'm back, i guess
and you, you know the rest
it's history like
coal burnt in my lungs.