3/9/2011

ran out of words. Lust for language has left me dry. Used to write like a wizard. Taking words and holding down each line. Wonder when rhyme scheme defined me. When I spoke in verse instead of words. Nothing seems to be complete. Unless the last syllables agree. Poured these words from glasses. Bought drinks when I didn’t want drinks at all. Just needed a reason for being so bitter. Sour drinks on an already embittered tongue. Spitting this vision of a disease ridden world. Blaming my disgust on everyone but myself. Here’s a lesson I was bound to learn in time. Wrote for too long and I used up my mind. Bound to burn out bone dry. Sought a sentence worth the mention. A collection of bombastic letters and lessons. Filling walls with words because paper can only hold so much. Decorate these rooms with misuse. Bad evenings I’m leaving in files and on pages. Who wants to document the good times. Collecting dejection and hating this essence. This soundness of mind that I just can’t define. I can’t find. I can’t seem to see anything. Salt in my mouth because the language dried out. Salt in my mouth because the language dried out. I won’t talk. I won’t ever be heard. No use in discussing the words no one ever learned. No use in sharing this disinterested mind. So ask how I am? I am fine. I am fine I am fine I am fine.

3/2/2011

Age is finally getting to me
my chest is sore from lack of sleep
or maybe from the visceral need
to find somewhere else to be
or my heart is bursting this skin
fractured sternum
and I’m having trouble breathing
my arms and my legs will whither and wait
for a day when they can get back their strength
my mind will reside in my stomach’s pit
and I’ll do my darnedest to get
a semblance of my self
an understanding of who am I and where I’ve been
and why I was there and am still here
what’s coming and going
what’s flowing upstream
which mornings are worth mentioning
and which are worth nothing
these nights these nights
these nights on the road
it’s the only place
I have left to go
taking the detour
I’m not lost anymore
I’m just bending each turn ‘til I recognize the signs
street names are old friends and this time
I’m not happy to see them
I wish that these evenings
didn’t feel the same
age is attacking me
and dammit
I could use a change.

12/30/2010

Touch the tip
of this index
finger
and stagger down to the palm
let these arms be dragged across
the walls
then let them fall
cause the strength isn’t in these wrists
I’m just not feeling it tonight
I’ve tried
damn near died
to hold you
but I just might
tonight
not want the touch
I don’t want to talk
I want to walk
until I can’t recall
what pushed me to the evening streets
and why I stare at the sky
utterly disgusted
with every body
that passes me
by
--
where’s the logic in longing
the desire to retire to bed

where are you in the evening
when I need to see your face
at the break of day

there’s never anything other than
this shallow skin I dress in
filling these sheets
with the stagnant air I breathe

shallow
fucking hollow
and ill at ease
yeah that’s me
shallow
fucking hollow
and ill at ease.