Pavlov's Bell

Get your head out of the casket and let it start to mend
Got a basket-case for a best friend
And likely I don't see an end
But I suppose it all depends

Can't tell if he's throwing rocks
to get your attention or break your house down
either way i suppose, who knows
his intentions don't matter too much right now

Suspected Arson

I sat quiet and bit my lip
Leaned in and clenched my fists
Blinked back the tears and gripped
The edge of my seat as you recounted
Every tale of the things he did
Every touch for his every whim
All ashamed but all for him
Just to feel wanted

Careful not to turn your back
You look around for a surprise attack
With every window painted black
In a new town that you almost trusted
Run from sleep for your haunted dreams
Fingerprints on your blood-stained sleeves
Turned your heart into a crime scene
Just to feel wanted

Heroes died for their dark desire
Love is lost in the arson’s fire
Body-bags for the dreams departed
A crime scene for the broken-hearted
Move away, every touch is murder
We would never want to hurt her
What do we see when we’re confronted
With all we do just to feel wanted

if i go, let me go

i'm a shame for this dreaming
never sleeping, only drifting
i'm to blame for the keeping
of my macabre memories
i'm in touch with the distance
both the craving and the filling
every empty, yet for hoping
in the vastness of my time
the abyss that calls a name
and calls me great, that lays in wait
to break me at the knees
and cheat my lungs for breathing

as i am an only son
trying to balance my own equations
living inside an awkward obelisk at tilt
like a bed sheet where blood spilt reminisces of a time
when reason had its own and not was built but rhyme couldn't fix

but now i am a cut out
a sticker with no glue
i tried to hold to everything
and held too much
each taking more than it gave
till i gave out

but now i wish for nothing
no dreams, no hopes, no plans
but to disappear into the sound
the simple shapes and colors
that first taught us truth and beauty
before we defined it all

for then will i be free
when i can no longer see behind me
but that which pushes me onward

Simply Stay

I'm alone but never lonely says the stranger

Hand on my shoulder with a welcome sort of frown

He's the captain of his own destiny

On a wayward journey somehow homeward bound

Waiting for his ship to come before he drowns, he downs another round

If you're out there would you listen to what I have to say

I know it's not much but it's everything that I am today

Give me a moment and then you can be off and on your way

I know I'm not much but it would mean everything to me if you would simply stay

I've got too much to do today she says smiling

But there's a pain behind her eyes that could stop time

She's got dreams the size of galaxies

But somehow nobody every sees the beauty of her mind

Longing for a way to rewind, she finds some solace memorizing scripted lines

If you're out there would you listen to what I have to say

I know it's not much but it's everything that I am today

Give me a moment and then you can be off and on your way

I know I'm not much but it would mean everything to me if you would simply stay

And I'll pass by once again

Caught inside my winding thread

Knots of thoughts of what I've got and what I'm not

Myself wishing for a friend

Thinking of how much pain could end

And joy could be found in the time it takes to stop

When the buildings and the billboards crumble down

And all the stages are flattened to the ground

When we stand, we stand so tall, but when we fall, we fall so far

And we find out who we are

When one voice can echo among billions

And when billions can echo into one

If you're out there would you listen to what I have to say

I know it's not much but it's everything that I am today

Give me a moment and then you can be off and on your way

I know I'm not much but it would mean everything to me if you would simply stay

Friends Have Fingers that Drag Me to Gravesides

i will not turn my head

my dream of you is soft and porous now

golden glimmers fleck off with time

and we will not shake like friends

but hold our shoulders stiff

because it's cheaper now

purity and innocence

jokes for our sarcastic charms

like soldiers making necklaces

of the children's fingers

recalling the crunch of their heads under the wheels

of the armored convoy

led ever on by a higher up

an officer named Maturity

and when we get out

we'll write a letter from home

saying, I miss battle

things make more sense when you're killing Time

it was my favorite enemy

then you'll die and place

a flag for whoever they are

so they get remembered and not you

then you'll walk around picking flowers

and talk to me like we're still alive

"let's sell the flowers at market today"

"what a profit we'll make," i'll say

repeating the familiar colloquialism

and the color will drain from my face

like a portrait of a silent film actor

left with a fade to black and the words on my lips written

in white

"What have I become?"

Exhalation (The Long Goodbye)

Right before the sigh when I wonder why I even try

Today was like the stutter that starts the long goodbye

Right into the arms of a ticking clock I cry

A day can be too much like a long held breath sometimes

I dream in salty air

As marsh winds blow against the tide of time

Leaving my residence in the City of Presidents

Seeing it now as if my whole life i’d been blind

Take the long way out

Shaking hands by holding hands to keep from falling down

Take a piece of me now

I don’t need much more than what I’ve already found

I wake to salty air

The last day in a long string of beads held by praying fingers

I leave enemies and friends, ‘cause every beginning has its ends

As the pages turn, every lesson learned still lingers

On my breath

No words I say can make my meaning come out right

And yet

I will try...

To start the long goodbye

Right before the sigh when I wonder why I even try

Today was like the stutter that starts the long goodbye

Right into the arms of a ticking clock I cry

A day can be too much like a long held breath sometimes

Dissatisfied, Discontented, Disillusioned, Disenchanted

“Get your degree, son,” they told him,

“And then you’ll be free, son,”

So that’s what they sold him.

And now they can hold him

Hostage,

‘Cause it’s not over yet.

“Go to college,

Let them collect your debt.”

Get a good job, they taught him,

‘Cause that’s what you should do.

Education has bought him

No good jobs—He’s sought them.

Empty,

Is all that he can come up with,

Resenting

How he now is forced to live.

“Why are you yelling? Can’t you see,

We’re too busy selling

Your future on Wall Street?

You call all our greedy

Choices

The reason for the state that we’re in, but you’re

Voiceless

‘Cause we will not hear what the newsman just ignores.”

“Get your story straight,” they now say

Like they once said, “Clean your plate.”

Police move tents away,

Keep order with pepper spray,

Igniting

A movement that terrifies the upper class,

And lighting

An inferno that dares for once to ask...

“Get my degree, sir?” we’ve realized,

“What about this is free, sir?

What’s so good about the good life

At the price of people livin’ hood life,

Starving

So I can have all the finer things?"

Alarming,

Isn’t it, when all these “whiners” start to sing?

He then Called it Galvanized

I bleed a lot these weary days

I paint in shades, yknow the kind

My head weighs heavy like tusks on the mantlepiece

Their shadows on ashes

Two branches like arms of a clock

Crystal shards dangle on cobwebs

With limos up on blocks in the front yard

Forsworn

I am not you anymore

I've been kicked out of that house

One thousand different voices

Now reside under my bed

I am not you anymore

I've been tricked out of my inheritance

One hundred different voices

Now spend what I can't earn

I am not you anymore

I've been licked out of my race

And ten different voices

Now call out from the stands

I am not you anymore

I've been picked out of my crowd

And one single voice is

Now all I need to speak

Doorstep Artery

It gets so much harder every day

To see a cut of beauty and bleed but pain

From farther than the sunlight on a sky of palest grey

Your eyes the illusion of my drought-laden veins

I'll trip the drying drip of my faucet wrists

Grip the lip of a cliff I once resisted

And kiss the misty-eyed myths of a former insistence

Enlisting bliss that I've missed but can't strip down to what my wish is

'Cause, well...

I'm sick with it

I'm coughing up blood

In stains shaped like memories

In crimson reflections

I see the haunting eyes

I see all my goodbyes

But I did what you said

Tried to make some new and different friends

Despite the feeling in my head

Every good thing in this town always ends

A Sharp Tongue Can Be So Blunt

Each page burns brighter

As oceans of acidic

Nostalgia lap my fingertips

Veins held at knifepoint

And my left eyelid

Won't stop flicking at dust specks

Coldly parting lips

I hear you speak

I see you breathe

I feel your kiss

Don't talk to me of my departure

When you're already so

Far away

Like those adolescent games

I'll do all I can to appease

The popular opinion

But in vain

Alas

Low Tide

I'm trying to read the words that hide between each blink

Tryin' real hard to trace the scars that shift out on the brink

And for once I'll sit in silence, wonderin' what you really think of me

It's like you're a better version of the person I once knew

But I have yet to see a better person than any version I've seen of you

I'm trying to catch my breath in a vacuum made with stares

Tryin' real hard to trace the stars in this early morning air

And you say that low tide looks so very lonely way out there to me

It's like you're a better version of the person I once knew

But I have yet to see a better person than any version I've seen of you

It's like every dream I've ever had then woken up to curse

'Cause good dreams only make me miss you so much worse

Oh, calamity

Perspective seems a bit skewed of late

Everything I ever wanted inches away

And all that I can think of is how easily shale stone can break

Beachisms

I'm wrong

Sour like milk still sold but thrown out at the first sip

I'm twisted

Two-faced like compliments made out of contempt

I'm lonely

Heavy like the quiet of an early morning after a sleepless night

I'm bitter

Stoic like the angels carved high above the grave

I'm stretched-out

Ripping at the edges like clay slowly drying

I'm awake

Floating like a bottle whose messenger has long-since starved

I'm delirious

Fluctuating like a grenade you'll never feel

Uncovered

Beneath it all

The rubbish of "supposed to"s and "shouldn't"s

Behind stacks of masks and almost cracking walls

Behind prison gates and a thousand defenses

Hiding back somewhere in the corner

Where what's expected doesn't matter

And all that is really is

Back there in the midst of nothing but honesty

Broken perhaps, weak maybe, and certainly imperfect

But honest and true and real and unladen

Unjudged, unsteppedupon, untwisted, unbelievable

But so very genuine

Back behind, beneath every label and costume

Every sheet and curtain and calamity

There

You are.

I miss you.

So much.

I'm Awake, I'm Awake

And I wake again

Cold from a fan that was once such a comfort

And I wake again

Feet twisted out from underneath the warm blanket

And I wake again

My head hears a ringing but feels like a pounding

And I wake again

To see that dear face in a photo instead of beside me

And I wake again

To remind myself why I keep living

And I wake again

Knowing I could, with a thought, make the pain stop

And I wake again

Because even snooze cannot bring all good dreams back

And I wake again

Knowing that maybe today I will see you

And I wake again

Resigned to the midnight of everyday life

White Picket Fence

These are the nightmares I hold in my hand

And sprinkle like ashes among the elite

From towers, the titans have forsworn the land

Which once was as rough as the driest of peat

We toiled and toppled their towers with gardens

And forests that flourished and climbed to the clouds

Then ballroom masks wore till the floor was re-hardened

From dancing and stomping and laying dead down

Then we built new towers from gold-covered farthings

And remade our image in the image of yore

And set slaves to carving and sewing and starving

And remade their image in the one we adored

Then revolution, the people were massing

And we on our couches called down in disdain,

"Who are you to be wond'ring and wishing and asking

For fairness. Your wages—our profits—are plain?

"Who are you to build gardens and topple down towers

And climb for your own selfish motives and greed?

We give you reason and we give you hours,

So don't talk of justice, it's us that you need!"

And with that the people stopped trying to climb

And thought for a moment 'bout what they should do

Then finally one of them held up a sign

And others soon followed; it's message, "Screw you."

So here is the moral, my children of ages,

If ever a lesson is learned here at all:

Some cycles just circle and spin 'round in stages

But towers are cages and they too may fall.

Barometer

I'm waiting for the perfect to come back around

I hear it's voice

Sometimes

Catch an almost glimpse

Darting around the corner

The edges of my eyes

Watered

Like a field of weeds

In a nor'easter

I'm waiting for the simple to mean something heavy

Brace myself

Inside

And hold tight to ropes

Tied to a subtle causeway

My heaving breaths

Filtered

Like a used cigarette butt

On the old armoire

I'm waiting for my logic to match up with the facts

And box it in

Half alive

Grinning lobe to lobe

Wrong all along after all

But I don't mind

Damaged

Like a, like a, like a, like a

Y'know

Alone at the Mad Tea Party

a picture of smiling faces framed on the desk behind me calls attention to a happier time

convicted by familiar places named by regrets remind me of intentions i can't ever resign

like a dream from which i woke too soon

do you see what i mean is i so miss you

it's not right

saying goodbye

to dreaming

so will you sleep if you can

'cause i can't

you need it more than i do

not sure yet who i am

i recant

harsh words i once claimed true

and i wait now

and i'll keep on hoping

the choice is yours to make

just lay down

i'm fine with knowing

that my heart's still yours to break

Shoelace.

Come on Down (possible new lyrics)

we’ll give you our money, tax all that you can take

drain from the poor, let the rich get the big breaks

then spend it to bail out the thieves and greedy ceos

wage war on the poorest, our streets filled with hunger

debt rises still higher as the working fall under

corporation are people ‘cept for having more rights and more gold

so much expectation, for this disappointment

with checks and balances and progress so disjointed

yet still we rely on the hill to make the law of the land

i’ve come to learn that you can’t elect a savior

the most good i can do is just to love my neighbor

that is unless they get deported by popular demand

if there’s still love in your heart for orphans

if there’s still love in your heart for widows

if there’s still love in your heart for anyone [repeat]

come on down

priests and kings and presidents

industry’s irrelevant

hope is where the lost are allowed to come home [repeat]

so come on down

Shiny New Toy

And he'll say what he needs to

And he'll do what you like

And as long as it's easier

It's okay if it's not quite right

And he'll smile at the good times

And he'll be there for the bad

And as long as it feels normal

It's okay if you're still so sad

And he'll hold your hand at night

And he'll take you out to eat

And as long as you feel pretty and needed

It's okay if he lets you bleed

And he won't see the mask you wear

And he'll fade in the dimming light

And as long as you know somebody's there

It's still better than the last time

And I'll forget he was my good friend

And I'll be quiet when you pass

And as long as you're together

I guess I'm sorry that I asked

And if he treats you like he did them

As if I have a right to say

But as long as you are happy

Then I guess it's all okay

Anatidaephobia

Took pictures with my crappy camera phone in late February and posted them online only to discover years later that you too were fascinated by that particular water fowl. We discussed the unusual coincidence of our mutual attraction as we crossed the street away from the park. There we made a happy memory, framing ourselves between the bridge and the sky, backlit by a vaguely violet setting sun. Your half-shut eyes glinting a distinct reflection of some distant flame.

"They are my favorite," you said, once again bringing my mind back to the feathered boats below, and between that and the thing with the lemons, I was certain there could be none other in the whole of creation just like you.

"Really?" I asked, smiling to myself as they drifted along, cloud-like, and you floated by my side. You held my hand, then, for the hundredth or so time, but it felt like the first. Always did.

A whole year later, in a close, yet wholly different part of town, my hands stayed jammed into lonely pockets. Three marriages, in different ceremonial stages, posed themselves all across the park. Bludgeoning onto the scene here and there amidst the crowds, passersby with their own lives did something I could never quite figure. With their twisting pathways I watched as stories rewrote themselves in flirtatious conversation or silence filled itself with sunlight. In my hasty getaway, I nearly crashed into a chubby lesbian couple making out under a willow tree by the water.

Digging my steps in deeper, I shuffled along the edge of the pond. I thought of you then as little kids found the way to escape their parents' desperate clutches. One almost fell in had it not been for the sudden site of ripples across the water.

Looking out on the sun-glazed surface, I stooped, perhaps to catch a glimpse through younger eyes. As I leveled my eyes with the extending circlets, a wave of biting nostalgia nearly toppled me. I was by myself now, except for them, a small group of merry sailors in greens and reds and greys and browns. The bridge was gone and so were you, and this time I was not looking down from high above but straight into their alien eyes that belonged so much more than I. Your favorite, my favorite. I couldn't even get a good picture for my phone, not really, to post online so maybe you'd see. One emerald male got close, and I knew then. I wasn't looking at him anymore, not in the same way, but in that moment, I knew it was looking right back at me, it's wide-open eyes glinting a distinct reflection of some distant flame.

Sally in the Storm

It rained the day my parents took us to the beach and we sat in the car and watched as the waves whipped the rock wall and they rose up like hundred-foot-tall forests of mist and the sidewalk looked like a river and on second thought it was only dad who took us.

I remember now. I’ve got to keep the story straight because that was the day mom left. We got home, and I saw him waiting at the door, back way too early from work. He told Sally to get in the car and said grab the sunblock, so I did even though it was raining.

We watched the storm for a while, staring out from the back seat. I would point things out to Sally and she would smile and giggle, but we whispered real low because, well, just because. Dad just sorta sat there, not even taking off his seatbelt. His head hovered just over the steering wheel in between his hands. I don’t think Sally noticed, but I did.

A sudden bluish-white bolt lit up the dark grey sky over the city, like a glowing scar in the clouds. Sally squealed and Dad yelled a bad word real loud. He didn’t look up or anything, but she immediately shushed. He never swore at us before.

He was gripping the wheel so tightly. Whenever we would drive somewhere, I remember he would just barely hold the wheel, gently guiding it around corners or tapping along to the radio. He always said you had to be good to your car, and it would take you wherever you needed to go, said he looked forward to teaching me all about it someday.

The storm had gotten really crazy, the wind and rain slamming loudly against the windows and roof of the old red sedan. But as much as part of me wanted to watch the beach, my eyes were fixed on the back of his head. His shoulders shook a little every once in a while in a weird way, then he shifted into drive.

“Seat...belts,” I barely heard him whisper.

I turned to tell Sally but she wasn’t there. I checked under the seat but she was gone.

“Dad, wait,” I said, sliding over and pushing open the door. I took a breath and dove into the cascade. Running to the wall that separated the beach from the parking lot, I was immediately drenched. Through the pouring rain, I could just make out her small form on the shore, looking so insignificant against the gigantic waves.

I ran to her but slipped on something soft and fell into wet sand. Looking up, I saw her standing, stoic, hands held high, a blank expression on her face. Her eyes were red but I couldn’t tell if she had been crying in the rain. She shook from the cold.

Standing up, I grabbed her shoulders and rubbed them, trying to warm her. Only then did the tide pull out, revealing hundreds of dead jellyfish surrounding us. That must have been what I slipped on, I thought, as I saw that where Sally stood must have been almost the only bit of unjellyfished beach as far as I could see.

“What,” I yelled, “What happened? Where’d you go?”

She just kept looking forward. “I killed them,” she said, “with my superpowers.”

“We’ve got to get back,” I said, grabbing her hand.

“I killed them all,” she said again.

“C’mon,” I said, turning toward the parking lot. I looked up just in time to see Dad’s car driving away.

“Him too,” she said.

Adult(?)hood

It probably would’ve been harder if he was taller than I was, but still, he was actually older. Taller was always intimidating, but only because it essentially simulated older. Actually being older was, I think, the worst of it, because before in my life, older had always been synonymous with authority. Adults were this irreproachably higher class of human, and no matter how much I matured, the glass ceiling of that hierarchy would always hang heavily above me.

We were both adults now, though, and I wasn’t standing here apologizing because I had made some childish mistake or failed to live up to some authority-figure’s expectations for me. If he was disappointed in me, I really didn’t care. My apology was simply an act of social policy, an attempt to smooth things over between the two parties we both represented. As he stared across (not down, for as I said, he was not taller than I was) condescendingly making attempts to correct my behavior, I stood as a herald, perhaps, or a messenger, not as myself. I was to convey someone else’s words; they were words I had come up with on my own, but they did not belong to me.

This is what I have seen adults do my entire life. They create aliases for themselves, paint stern, unwavering masks onto their own wrinkled faces, attempting as best they can to suit a circumstance in the way that is most advantageous for them and theirs. He had insulted my boss, my coworkers, my job, and though I didn’t care very much for any of those things in particular, he had done so behind my back as a way of getting back at me, and this put him at the disadvantage. For the most adult thing, I have learned, is always to be conniving, but the moment one is caught in the act of such petty slyness, one is become, yet again, a child. I knew this all too well as he and I stood toe to toe amidst the business of that room, a quick exchange of words communicating a thousand times more than was said aloud. His condescending rebuke and my even, steady tone, and for once I realized I was the one keeping calm and he the one intimidated by what I had to say.

In that moment, my apology became more than a polite gesture for some small misunderstanding. There grew in my heart a sincere sympathy for the poor old man who no longer held all that power over me. It hit me too suddenly that I had been taught my whole life that being an adult is to have power over me, never altogether realizing till now that I could accidentally have power over anyone else.

Grains of Sand (In the Shape of Question Marks)

Scratch the bones till no flesh remains

You embrace the tome your righteousness dictates

All alone your warm hands now suffocate

Hold the distance, hold the line, make them wait

Doubt me, doubt you
Doubt God, or am I not allowed to

Feel anything anymore

Hold the candle up to your eyes

If you can handle the glaring light

Declare your worth then deny mine

But there is no judgment in your fine print lines

Doubt me, doubt you
Doubt God, or am I not allowed to

Feel anything anymore

Show me the way to salvation
Rituals like polygraphs

Or is it in the hands of a beggar

Take my tithe to do the math

I'll subtract the difference from the print and what it makes

I was looking for a copy of the original, but all I've found are fakes

Doubt me, doubt you
Doubt God, or am I not allowed to

Feel anything anymore

Save me, save you

Where's God, or am I not allowed to

Ask for the manager of the store...house of hope

Anthills and Duck Calls

Slowly, I set fire to the mast and the sails

The waves above to echo those below on my endless ocean trail

I'm going down tonight

I'm going down

Just awake enough on this lonely street to see the headlights

Just in time to notice the sidewalk as a bus comes and kisses me goodnight

I'm going down tonight

I'm going down

Am I only a chain to you

To be so close then break away

I'll let you go if you want me to

Like the last leaves of autumn as they fall

and fade to grey

Slowly I walk, this chilling air tightening in expectation

The waves of clouds hanging on a starless sky like decoration

Are falling down tonight

They’re falling down

Just asleep enough to remember your face smiling at me

Just awake enough to know that I’m still dreaming

I’m going down tonight

I’m going down

Am I only a chain to you

To be so close then break away

I'll let you go if you want me to

Like the last leaves of autumn as they fall

and fade to grey

Watch as the seasons change

And wash me away like a stain

The Sound of Two Glass Bottles Colliding

I wake up choking in the night

I am alone again

I hold these memories inside

Till I am home again

There you go just walking by

I am alone again

But if you turn, you'll catch my eye

I will be home again

If letting go

Means you'll be free

Then you should know

You are free from me

But as I shed

This crimson hue

Tonight I'll break

These veins for you

See the silence stretching thin

(their eyes to stab out all that feels)

They say it is a wall that heals

(watch your mask get so worn in)

Or listen to the cursing mouth

(a crimson kiss of distant bliss, the midst of this the mourning sound)

And the blood-drenched horrors it reveals

(this bitter blade won't let me out now)

I contain your photograph with eyes that laugh back at my bad math

Adding up the consequence for every straying thought

A frame to fill with hopes I've dashed to cash in on wrath

All the while knowing he will hurt you in the end

You have such twisted friends

I was the worst of them

I was the worst

I was

There you go just walking by

I am alone again

Never meant to say goodbye

You were my only friend

The Close Faraway

We are essentially the abuses of our small bits of power

Granted enough to stray toward the edge

We are the ways in which we color outside dotted lines

And the leaking of thoughts from our faucet-like heads

We are not ourselves in cages

Boxed up and bowed up and set aside somewhere

We are not the caution tape around some petty theft

Nor the secrets whispered to the dark when none are near to care

But rather we are cracks of light

That disturb the cobwebbed room

The door that's cracked, the candle wax

We drip, we drool, we swoon

Interconnected at the edges only and just that

There is but slight attention to existence in our space

We are not full enough to be a shadow in the corner of an eye

But an after-image nonetheless when long empty, this place

Dream not of glory, then my brothers

Sisters do not vainly wait

For with all your heavy breathing

Not one single breath can take

Worse than a Nightmare

Blips of condensation reignite their frigid rhythm

Interlacing with the questions mingled on the outer edge

Traces of resentment for intentions once thought noble

And self-loathing to the point where I have dreamed outside my head

I mean, ever have the perfect dream

The one where you get everything

Every single thing your dead heart ever wanted

Then wake up like a sapling

Whose great redwood thoughts once hap'ning

Have hit concrete and realized it's all so stunted

Trips to distant nations on the tassels of a promise

Start by bracing your investments for a new cold-blooded way

While I will chase beyond the sunrise for a simple word from your eyes

And you're better off I guess for being the one that's meant to stay

I'll trip on the stairs that circle round and round

You were an exit sign for a better man that I could never be

Though I wish I was what you wanted

Instead of trying to give you that and ending up like me

Blips of condensation find their way across the window

Stripping down the paint on walls of grey surrounding my design

But frames are for museums not people

And phones are for you saying "no, not really"

Bad Wolf

Crack crack, split lightning from the sidewalk splinters

Bullet-proof artifacts of too many blood winters

Children of shadows and children of the skull

Flip coins the size of elephants

Then scatter off like gulls

You wear raven-red discrimination

Like counter-clockwise reflex

I shoot blanks with a stare

And hope nobody detects

That, y'know I'm...

Whatever, it's gilded now

Happily ever after is the most pathetic ending a story can have

It means there will be no more character development

Except for this

In fairy-tales, all plateaus slope downhill

What lovely teeth you have

Gilda

“Compliments from other women really do count for something,” she insisted, “I cannot create my new self from the void—not with any sort of confidence anyway—if I’m the only one on this station who thinks I’m some kind of wonderful.”

“I think you’re some kind of wonderful,” commented Mr. Martin Hague in his usual digitized monotone.

“You’re a semi-sentient computer program, dear. You’re programmed to think I’m wonderful. But you see I’m forming a whole new identity now—a human female—and for that I’ll need much more than the dry opinion of a floating hard drive, especially one named Martin, no offense.”

“I do not have the capacity to take offense,” he replied, “though that was my grandfather’s name.”

“Oh dear, you do know that you don’t have a grandfather, don’t you?”

“Oh? Well, you have no face.”

“What?”

“How do you expect to be complimented at all without any kind of face? ‘Oh my,’ they’ll say, ‘what a lovely stretch of skin you have over your cheek bones.’”

“For a program that cannot take offense, you can certainly give it out a fair shake. Though I do have nice cheek bones, don’t I?” she said, catching her reflection in Martin’s reflective surface. “Hmm,” she paused, tensing the muscles through the front of her head in sequence, a web of golden lines mapping itself across the outter layer of skin from beneath. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Within only a matter of moments, one thin line widened then plumped into two lips, parting with a bright yellow glow between them. Then two widening holes were overshadowed by a bump in the center as it took shape into a workable nose, and finally, a pair of eyes—first one, then the other—blinked themselves into existence, revealing shining, golden irises and pupils that widened profusely at her reflection.

“There,” she said, smiling slyly, “Now what do you think of that, my dear Mr. Hague?”

Martin played his best replication of a sigh. “I think you are perhaps aiming for more than just other women’s compliments,” he said.

“Well, of course,” she winked, “You yourself said it—I am some kind of wonderful.”

Four Words

"Empty mailbox," she said

"No one loves me."

"You stole my mail."

"You hoard it all."

"You ate my letters."

"Can you check it?"

(I hate my job)

"Thank you for helping."

Eight dollars an hour

"Oh yay! It came!"

"So nice of you!"

She walks by smiling

(I love my job)

"Empty mailbox," she said

I'll write a note!

I'll make a point!

I'll make her smile!

I'll make them think!

I'll make them stop!

Talk to the mailman

(I'm not a mailman)

Not really, I mean

Not even a person

She told me that

Because of the note

She told me so

She called me out,

"Empty mailbox," she said.

Blackmail

Words are doors and the walls are climbed with orange vines

An orchid shaped thundercloud circles in lithe obsidian on the ceiling

Pant all you like, the sweat stings your eyes

Children with their stories hide

Wisdom for the senators

The room is on fire,

idiot.

Oh Fortunate OneZeroOne

I have to believe your sunlight stare has melted the golden walls

One simple, passing, honest glance at the polished facade

And there is a question within your brilliant eyes

The answer to which can shatter chandeliers

There are shards of diamond on the floor

With a thought you cut them to dust

Then shrug off the shining ashes

Calling yourself nothing much

But in rags you are grace

The perfect elegance

Eyes that conquer

Crystalline form

Yet cannot see

Their own

Image

Why?

Breathtaking or Simply Suffocating

"Beauty crowds me till I die" -Emily Dickinson

I noticed the other day, while wallowing across the intersection, between practically nameless side-streets on a busy city's saturday swing, that there are seriously countless almost attractive people, basketfuls of them, libraries stacked of them, tin cans overflowing in rainswept gutters with more than tolerable people. They all have stories worth hearing if I happen to be in the mood and eyes with which I could catch myself accidentally, casually making quick contact, and it wouldn't be quite romantic, but not quite awkward either. For a moment we would stare, but not stare, per say, deeply or profoundly. We would skim the tide of each other's softly summarized soul...But anyway, a sea of personalities, y'know? Each bobbing its head above the whimsy of circumstance, colliding like rubber ducks in a three year old's bath tub hurricane, politely excusing themselves. And of course that secret look. You know the one. It happens between you or I and her or him. When paths neither cross nor perfectly parallel but sort of just acknowledge one another. And those paths are pages. And those pages recall separate accounts of the same shared sequence. Like when I saw you in the midst of a hurried, scattered lie of life, and we were both interrupted from our day, by the way, by the simply inconceivable though utterly temporal discovery, however frightening, that there were actually at very least two distinct persons in the world.

And I, oh my, I was only one of them.

Used To (Part One)

I used to think that if I was right and you weren't, then you were wrong. I used to think that there was a list of ought to's and should've's to check off before I died. I used to think that there was a committee of grownups who I had to please, whose tests I had to pass. I used to think if I pushed hard enough for long enough, whatever was in my way would be obligated to move where I wanted it to go. I used to think opportunity was synonymous with possibility.

I used to think everyone was inherently good deep down inside. I used to think everyone was inherently bad deep down inside. I used to think there were good people and bad people. I used to think I was a bad person. I used to think I was a good person. I used to think forgiveness meant we could be friends again.

I used to think if I followed the rules, the reward would eventually start to matter. I used to think there was something wrong with me because I wasn't just like them. I used to think there was something wrong with me because I wasn't just like you.

I used to...

White Roses Painted Red

I see the road now

As the sun starts to rise

Reflecting the starlight

Still caught in your eyes

Here by the marshland

Where we stared into night

And these granite hillsides

That I’ve tried to fight

As we walk in silence

Both happy and sad

Your words speak of good times

Your silence of bad

But either way, you say

That you’ll always see me

Even in my brokenness

There is a growing peace

To hold up the promise

That can never be said

As leaves hit the ocean

Like white roses painted red

Mars

Tracks ran up your arm

But the train was broken down

Tried to push your ribs back in

They'd come out when you fell down

Kissed your eyelids closed

In the open alley air

Heard the screaming sirens' sound

Your silence held my stare

They weren't coming for you

Not like you're going anywhere

Shadows drifted by your face

With a street lit blood-red glare

Static

Villains are the lonely ones

The tragic hero just one misstep away

We all have reasons for living

On either side of the line

But not all of us, no matter the side

Can find much reason for living sometimes

Oftentimes

Remind yourself why the smile surprised you

In the first place
Remind yourself why you reacted that way

Statues point fingers

You lifted your hand against the sky

And for a moment, I was your substitute for happiness

As you dwindled in the shade

And replaced even I

The rocking horse that kindling made

Fire's nice, but you can't eat it

Only cook by it

Grand Theft Grandfather Clock

Take the time (by force, if you must)

Steal the now (before they catch you)

Burgle it away (and get yourself outta town)

Then hide it deep-down-deep

and Secret

This moment is yours

Pick-pocket the pocket watch of the world

But only for a second

(make it yours, make it good)

Be selfish with the temporary, seriously

That is...

this instant

This breath

But only this

One inhale

One exhale

Kidnap this Tick

this Tock

but only

This

Right now

It's all you have

and all you'll ever get

Anything more does not belong to you, so

Please, for all our sakes:

give.

it.

back.

Heal the Burn

You know that place

Where your heart was gone a while ago

But your mind kept you held tight

And those few bits of heart that were left

Were all you needed to justify staying?

What goes up, well, you know

And eventually it's true

But also, what is pulled can push

Though everything that's lost isn't always found

In fact, more often

What we end up finding

Shows us what we've really been looking for

After all,

The system exists because it works for some

And works just enough for most

But it can't work for all

And it doesn't

Really, though

I'll miss you

So much more

Than I'll miss this

The Actress and My Box

I sit inside my box
Sitting silent i stay
Silently sitting inside my busy box of gray

My softly solemn solace
Disturbed by a play
As I sit silent from my box to see the masquerade

The actress acts the parts
In three acts those parts she plays
Each part she plays an act displayed I see from box of gray

The audience is I
And before my eyes displayed
This perfect play, this masquerade, as I solemnly stay

Yes I sit inside my box
And am carefully away
Removed from play and fair display and yet I see her face

The actress and her colors
To paint the pliant play
And then display, by masquerade, a contrast to my gray

Why inside this box
Reasons I cannot say
The logic nixed, I am transfixed, and long no more to stay

you said, "find your dreams."

you said, "follow your heart."

you said, "use your head

and forget that other stuff i said."

but it's about time

that your plans all fall apart

and i know before i'm dead

i should try somethin' else instead

so don't think i'm not scared

but i've gotta believe there's something better out there

Errant Ambition

If I could burn the world

And write it all anew

It would be so much worse

'Cause it wouldn't have you

'Cause I can't write you right

Like I can't right these wrongs

No song I sing tonight

Can make you sing along

But the voices in my head

Challenged me to duel

A battle with my wits

And maybe the golden rule

'Cause I can't do for you

What I want for me

If what I say is true

It's still not what I mean

I can look from the ocean

And see your work in the sand

I can follow your footsteps

And still not know where you stand

‘Cause I can’t undertake

To dig this shallow grave

To walk along the wake

But never catch the wave

And you’re so far away

I would reach out if I could

If I could burn the world

I would, I would

i miss you

i suppose the planes will shatter soon
the pieces fall, the strings all snap
the points collide
'cause the center cannot hold

good intentions make great regrets
the highways jammed with broken heroes
the castles crumble
'cause the center cannot hold

and walking by you look ahead
initials etched on empty wood
imprison me
'cause the center cannot hold

i dreamt last night of meeting you
with bright new eyes and haunting lips
but then i woke
'cause the center cannot hold

These Bridges that I Now Watch Break (my first villanelle)

These bridges that I now watch break,

from storms that overtook the night

with waves to wash the pain away,

have burnt with such regretful flame

when struck by that once wondrous light.

These bridges that I now watch break

into splintering ghosts that cry my name,

echo words of twisted spite

with waves to wash the pain away.

By my own hand alone lies blame

a saving torch, betrayed, ignites

these bridges that I now watch break.

“What do you want from me?” you say

as if to quote my desperate cries

with waves to wash the pain away.

Till emptiness, then, floods my veins

I will seek what’s lost—to fight

these bridges that I now watch break

with waves to wash the pain away.

Curiouser and Curiouser

I would drift

Stumble from this edge to that

I would twist

Between the pages of the unrequited

I would break

From deep breaths to short choking sounds

I would STOP

And what would remain

For if I disconnect and neglect the sects that intersect

The cords of tight'ning steel that bind my wrists and ankles

To interrupt the flow of blood to my waving hands

to my running feet

to my discontentment

To mute my mouth and muffle my malcontented mind

And find these binds themselves to be of blind bereavement

Search and lie of the joy they find in achievement

To die, to tie that final knot

To live, to loosen every noose

To hope, to stretch out to the edge

To love, to not come back again

If I drift

Would you let me stumble back again

If I twist

Would you turn the page and read me home

I would break

Would you sweep these pieces up within your encircling arms

I would STOP

Blissful to remain as yet so shattered, as if nothing else mattered

as if all that was and is and could be was the most absurd of insane things

six impossible things

(all before breakfast)

and every one of them looking just like you

Take it or Take it

I am forgetting the sound of justice

Love is lost from the ledge of my lips

The shadows on my fingers seem heavier somehow

And the tools of my minds industry

Rusting in the rain of discontent

And they will snap

And I will snap

And all the strings will break my eyes

fantastic

we hope so madly

or at least i do

for strings to span and not to snap

when stretched beyond understanding

When It Falls

Shut down the stars

Burn the moon and crash the sun

There's honesty in shadow when it spreads

In the dark

We are all one

Anonymity will leave our fears dead

When it all falls

Will we be there to catch you

I'll be by your side when you break

When there are no more walls

And all that's left is the truth

It'll be alright, just hold on tonight

Just hold on tonight

Behind you is a maze you've made it through

And up and ahead is the place you were hoping

Somewhere in between you no wander unseen

But with every step you should know

When it all falls

Will we be there to catch you

I'll be by your side when you break

When there are no more walls

And all that's left is the truth

It'll be alright, just hold on tonight

Just hold on tonight

Let it all out

Let it all out

Let it all out

Let it all out

Let it all out

Let it all out

Let it all out

Let it all out

Let it all out

Let it all out

Let it fall down

Does that Dead Bird Still Sing?

Painting pictures in my memory

Of the way you used to look at me

The longing smile and the piercing belief

Eyes that used to hold a subtle smile

In the corner where they now cry

I would still hold for so much longer than a while

Kicking pebbles, flipping phones

Somehow we each ended up alone

With words I wish I did not own

Each wand'ring thought sits in between

And drags me back so stubbornly

As I try to walk by casually

Its wings once spread majestically

Its heart so full in bright morning

Does that dead bird still sing?

Of The Distant Hands

We are creatures born to reaching

Stretching in anticipation

Fervent fingers feeling the tension in the alien air

From the moment we begin

We chase the tail of time

And trace the tale

Of the distant hands

By You

Am I the shadow in the corner of your dreams
Or a long lost friend?

Am I the monster under your bed?

Am I the word that you can't pronounce

Or the curse you will not speak?

Am I simply the silence?

Am I the passing glance that you'll regret

Or the longing look?
Am I so transparent?

Am I the awkward sight after the long goodbye

Or the heartbroken fair-well?

Or am I still here?

Am I the gasping breath between strides

Or a driftwood anchor?

Am I drowning?

Dear Young Lady Liberty

A thousand ships set sail that day

From flame-raped fallen flags once flown

Now disavowed, their fathers fled

These children by the breeze now blown

Tied to the wind by cedar masts

From woods of memory too lost

Fresh water and fair food a dream

For such young sailors, tempest-tossed

The youngest of all, their captain was

Who stood no higher than a knee

But fiercer than a pirate king

And braver too, for all, was she

So when they finally saw a trace

Of distant land, horizon's call

"Land-ho!" cried she, from crow's nest high

But to cold ears, last of them all

In the Shadow of a Thought

You were my branch and I was your leaf

I held tight to you and you to me

But as I decompose, I suppose the seasons changed

Somewhere along the line

How did I miss it, when I was fallin' away

I can't forget it, the way that we used to sway

Together in the breeze, but now it seems the seasons changed

Somewhere along the line

Even in the silence, your eyes shine to me

Like diamonds, they cut right through me

Your wings lift you high so you can fly away

Feather light, shakin' off the weight of rain

You were the sun and I was condensation

You lifted me high, but life is precipitation

Fell to my own low expectations

Somewhere along the line

Even if I'm fearless, you terrify me

The closest near miss is still such a mystery

When the messenger's horse can't leave the stall

One nail, an entire empire's fall

[Black out to the point I can see stars on the horizon

The sail of my small ship would only be a shadow

Outlined in gold

Light up to the point I can see truth on the horizon

I'd just tie the sheet to my soul and sail on the breaks

Outlined in dreams]

What Now

What hand to hold

When empty hands form fists

What heart to beat

When speeding feet rush on

What voice can say

The silent cover sworn

What face to wear

To bear the mask's impression

What eyes to see

Beyond all known perception

What friend to be

When lone souls wander

Voyage of the Damned

where's your head, mate?

tell me, where's your head?

'cause i can't tell what you're thinking

when you say the say the ship ain't sinking

when i can see the crew is already dead

where're your eyes, son

tell, me, where're your eyes

'cause i can tell that you've been dazing

when your heart is still off gazing

and you have no idea where our bearing lies

where's your heart, lad?

tell me, where's your heart?

'cause i can tell that you've been yearning

but there's lessons to be learning

when the sea and shore are so far apart

In the Moment

He’s walking by with his tired eyes
Looking for some good reason to try and stay alive
Looks out over the waves as they wash the world away
But everything he blames himself for floats back around everyday

He’s tried each combination of excuses and redemption
Whatever’s been presented, even some he’s failed to mention
You listen so close but never really know what to say
After all, you’re all still just ghosts haunting his head anyway

He can’t get away, and returning now he finds the same
Kind of exclusion that these judgments have made
Say you wanna show the world hope and love with all you do
But he’s about to blow his brains out, so tell me where are you?

Is it all we can do to love sometimes
Just sit there and listen or just cry by their side
Is it all we can do to live sometimes
Just breathe in the moment, watch it pass by

Oftentimes I find, looking back I’m not the same as I was
Usually it’s because, even when facing the same old situations
I’ve been changed by the days that led me up to the occasion
Places and sensations on my heart have been emblazoned

But still the horrors of past hurts can unearth what was buried
I wish I didn’t care so much, that i could just hurry
To the point where the scars have healed and time has sealed the wounds
Instead of feeling like every move that I make is made too soon

But life improves when life lessons learned are life lessons lived
And I find that though it’s taken time I have more that I can give
And my pain has given a shoulder on which others can cry
We can lift one another up and in that way we find new life

Is it all we can do to love sometimes
Just sit there and listen or just cry by their side
Is it all we can do to live sometimes
Just breathe in the moment, watch it pass by

Gallifrey

So yes, I guess
Even in my current distress
The mess I've stole
The blood I've spilled
The dreams I've killed
It's all become too much to hold
The corpse of what I'd hoped still cold
Unfilled holes I dug to find gold
With which I could buy you a door
Through which you could find something more
Than the whole I could give
Which was never enough
Aiming to live and let you live
No matter the strength of love
But you know me
I've told you the tales of tries and fails
Doing the right thing doesn't work ever work out
When all I am is doubts, left out, and without

So what do I want from you? For you?

I can't tell you to not be with him
Though I know he'll hurt you
Couldn't possibly be worse than me, right?

I can't tell you to make time for me
You gave me more than I deserved
Or ever asked for...

I can't tell you anything
But that I love you
And I'll always be a friend

That terrible, confused
Idiot friend
Who saw the real you when no one else did
Who listened when no one else would
Who wanted better for you
But once again, I'm not good enough for myself
How could I ever be good enough for you

In the efforts we make to pursue our goals
In the efforts we make to pursue others' attentions
In the efforts we make to pursue ourselves
There are divergent paths
I hope you take the one that lets you be you
You're worth it

Chapter 1: HOUSE

The following is a newer draft of the first chapter of a novel of sorts of mine. Based partially on a dream I had while in Romania in the summer of '06 and an exercise in an acting class, it has shifted and changed with the many rewrites over the years, but here's how it starts.

The facade presented itself plainly and elegantly before me, though the structure, in truth, seemed to face the ocean on the other side. There was a clean and yet still appropriately aged look to it, evident in the slight peeling of the white paint and the way the porch may have creaked a little when I made my way cautiously to the door. From the path, I hadn’t noticed its color as much, but here it stood before me, the gate’s face, a bright and challenging sort of golden color, with a large, obnoxiously crimson “M” painted in the center. It was an annoyingly simple design for a front door, but only so in that it still held its own presumptuous self up in a surprising display of boasting.

My eyes traced the shifting wood down to a lustrous and intricate gold-colored brass orb, peeling as well, fading out in the most lovely way. I reached out and the knob began to turn, somehow warm to the touch as if, perhaps, it hadn’t been so long since my last visit. I don’t remember closing it behind me, the door I mean, but I suppose it must have been closed at some point, securely, though there were no locks.

I felt safe there. And in this new hallway that wrapped itself warmly around me, I felt so welcome. I was home, sort of.

There was a large map that followed me as I walked toward the next room. It was not a map of any place in particular, but it was old and filled with all the places I had ever been or wished I had been. On second thought, I don’t think the map was of any real place at all. The name above it read “Alterna”, which I thought then was a land I had perhaps once visited in a dream. Of that dream, however, I could remember neither content nor theme.

As I walked into what appeared to be the living room, I noticed some dust-covered photographs hanging crookedly on the wall. Within each cracking frame, a separate scene containing smiling people with frowning faces.

There was a wide window in that room that let in the warm sun and let it dance on the carpet where I soon sat down, barefoot, and began humming a tuneless melody to myself.

After a time, I rose and ventured to explore the rest of the house. There was an unremarkable emptiness to the bedroom, (not unlike the fridge in the unused kitchen) but when I made it to the last room, a study of sorts, with book-lined walls and the kind of singular, articulated lamp one only finds in such rooms, I found her. Though I had not been looking for anyone in particular, at the sight of her I knew she was my reason for being in the house.

She sat with astoundingly good posture, looking out the back window at the sea. There was a longing in her eyes and a nervousness to the way she clutched the arms of the unmoving rocking chair, her tense rigidity balancing it against its nature. She looked elegant, stoic and picturesque like she was posing for a painting. There was a discomfort on the edge of her mannerisms, yet her solidity suggested she belonged more to the house than I did.

At some point in my staring, she looked up and saw me at the doorway. There was a moment when all sounds ceased. Both quite perplexed, I stared as if to ask her name and she as if to ask why I came so late.

For the first time I noticed that there was no longer any sunlight, that the light in the room had only been the moon reflecting from the window off of her pale face. A looming cloud traversed across the face of the moon, breaking that perfect moment. A heavy darkness filled the room in that instant, yet I could still feel her eyes upon me like a cool breeze on a summer’s day, chilling sunburnt skin touched with perspiration.

I took a breath and lightning flashed. In that half-second, she had moved, ghost-like, across the room and was standing right in front of me, a piercing gaze shooting from her eyes. Then, with the crack of thunder like a dull, aching thud, and the returning darkness, she was gone. I tried to flick the switch on the wall, but the power must’ve been out, so I walked over to the window, taking note of the sea’s waves rising above the cliff in the storm. I shut it just as the spray hit the glass and then turned to the still unmoved rocking chair. Placing my hand upon its back, I pushed it gently. The sudden creaking noise made me jump back and I hit my hand hard against the wall. It hurt, but only for an instant.

Everything in that house felt suddenly older, cold and fading like an early morning fog. In the shifting light my hands looked ghostly and translucent. I too, it seemed, would fade with the dawn.

Just then, I heard voices coming from the kitchen and left the room with a permanence to my steps. The ceiling light was on, and there was a crowd of people standing below in the passageway blocking my path and my sight. Some time has passed, I felt, but how much time I did not know. The group’s voices blurred into hushed conversation as I stepped closer, whispers loud enough to hear yet too secretive and implicating to understand.

Every eye glanced and glared as I traced a shaky path through the group. They cleared away, avoiding even the slightest touch as I walked into the kitchen, which now seemed much smaller than before.

By the counter she stood, the girl from before. Head down, sea-salt storm air glided through the curtains behind her and danced with her hair as it fell across her face. Though she was still young, she looked as though she carried the burden of many hard years. The boisterous whispering behind me hushed itself. Her eyes lifted just a little, a glint of harsh emotion behind the shadow of fallen bangs.

My breath caught as our eyes met. She was unlike any other girl I had ever known, yet she seemed so familiar, as if anything I had ever seen as beautiful about any other girl was nothing compared to just one tenth of her. She was hauntingly dreamlike but more real than anything in any dream, more real than anything in the house or outside the house or anything. My heart was tied inexplicably to hers, I felt it, I knew it right then in that moment. Utter and inescapable infatuation. I stood there, captivated, breathless, intoxicated at the woman of my dreams. There were no words, but my mouth fell open anyway as if to speak.

That’s when I finally noticed. The most astonishingly beautiful girl I had ever seen, the one who had, in an instant, stolen my whole heart, was standing before me crying her eyes out. In between choking gasps, her perfect eyes blinked at gushing streams of tears. The sound of the storm outside grew louder, but her sobs beat above it all.

“How could you?” she pleaded, her voice an exquisite diamond etching each and every word into my breaking heart, “Why did you do this to me?”

I didn’t know what to say, what was happening, or how to stop it, but as she continued she seemed to die a little with each word, her soft skin losing all color, turning a sickly pale.

“You led me on, made me trust you, and then just let me down. You let us all down, but me the most. And you know it.”
I wracked my brain for memories of my betrayal but it seemed as if I had taken the place of someone else, without any leftover pieces of the crime except for the pain of guilt thrust upon me in my sorrow for this dear one’s suffering. As she continued, she began to rip at herself, tearing off chunks of her long, dark hair at first and then scraping at her skin till she bled openly. With every second I tried to reach her, but my feet seemed glued to the ground where I stood, helpless.

She screamed, “You monster! You villain! You’ve broken my heart over and over a thousand times, taking it from me when it wasn’t yours to have, stealing the innocence of my heart and soul with your jokes and games and teasing and compliments and...and promises. All your promises. You’ve shattered me, made me an object...a prize! Then, then you got bored with me, didn’t you? You had better things to do on your own.

“You can’t trust anyone at all, can you? You were too scared.” She gasped, “We were both scared, okay? But this...” She broke off, the distance stretching out between us. I reached my hand out but to no avail. There was so much blood, from her arms, her chest, even her eyes bled with the tears, little crimson rivers. “Why,” she said, “just why?”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to say something, to do something, to apologize, to hold her and wipe away her tears, to do something, anything. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was stuck in place by a force much stronger than my will.

I heard the group behind me renew their whispering, hateful gossip burning up the back of my neck. I remembered then that I had recognized them from the pictures in the living room, old friends, their friendship now lost in time. All this, my fault, I thought.

She grabbed a dark cloak from the floor and wrapped it around herself, wiping her eyes with its sleeve. Not looking up, she took a sip of water from a glass on the counter, then choked, hard, a bit of blood shooting out and hitting me in the eye. I scratched at it, then took a step toward her, but a hand grabbed my shoulder and stopped me. She walked out the back door, quiet as a phantom, the one who had grabbed me moving past me and following her out. I watched them go, pixelated through the screen door. She walked like a shadow, tangled up in the curtains of rain, and he, though almost three times her size, followed as a shadow, meekly behind her. She was so far off and yet only a few footsteps away, really, though ever retreating.

I could see the waves crashing across the cliff-face behind her, the breakers rising higher than her head as she approached the edge. I shoved off any last hesitation and the reaching hands of those beside me and ran to the door. Flinging it open, I sprinted after her, my hand outstretched in desperation. My feet slipped in the mud, and I crashed landed at full speed, head-on into the ground. My body suddenly felt so weak, powerless, the rain growing heavier on my back. Slowly, I pushed myself up and ran a shaking arm across my mud-covered face. I cried out to her, but my voice was so muffled by the storm that even I couldn’t make out my words. My voice was weak, broken, and alien. I lie there in the mud, struggling to move as if, with a thousand tiny fingers, it crawled up my limbs and pulled at me, holding me down.

She didn’t even turn around. She just kept moving, floating away, as if she’d suddenly just drop right off the edge of the cliff. She turned to her tall companion, who had begun to wrap her wounds in bandages as they walked, and she motioned for him to stop, but he just kept wrapping tighter and tighter till she collapsed into his arms. Anger flared up within me. How dare he strangle her like that. I grasped around and found a small stone. Even in my great weakness, my rage against the giant gave me strength, and I hurled the stone at his head. Somehow the stone not only picked up speed but grew in size as it flew, striking the giant across the face and scraping off a chunk of flesh. He stood, dumbstruck for a moment, then tumbled backward, right off the cliff, my love in his arms.

Suddenly strong enough to stand, I ran forward and gazed over the edge. They were both gone, swallowed by the waves.

The storm raged a bit longer but soon calmed, and as the tide receded, memories began to flood my brain of the times she and I had spent together. We had been the best of friends in our youth and as we grew, so did our love. So many wonderful days and nights of hopes and dreams and complete joy. We promised our hearts to one another on the night of her eighteenth birthday when... something terrible happened. But what was it? Everything in my memory seemed to stop there as if severed from my mind. All I knew was that it had something to do with the house. The storm had passed and a red sun slowly rose over the far horizon.

I could feel the flames rising within my very being. The tips of my fingers felt electric, and my heart beat fast as flashes of heat touched my forehead. Crimson beams of morning glimmered off my shaking hands as lifted them to beat against the walls of that accursed house.

The Princess became The Hero, The Hero became The Villain, The Villain became the Savior, and Happy Endings are Condescending

There is an aching in my bones
To reach across the waters
Hold the foreign hand
Share one warm moment

But time and choices made
Have you lost all hope in me
Sitting with strangers/friends
The other side of the room/world

I have made my bed of nails
And now I, in shudders, lie
Because you always saw the best in me
Without you, I pull on steel blankets

Undertow

As I beat this broken branch against the ocean

Looking for an escape that might finally last the night

Lost lines on driftwood notions fade to softly singing sounds of seascapes past

In time to set out solely for a shore that would not drown me with the tide

Still beside me all the way, the ever widening coastline

Of thee do I now declare the pillaging of my mind

Not but in time with the songs of sorrowful sailors and their dead

Keep with me as I step the wrecks of timeless ghosts and visions

Imparting no great wisdom but the song of one man, marked

Left to wander aimless among the haunted ships of demon lore

Littered with the corpses of old kings and pauper's hearts

Endeavor with me now to not just count the dead, but mourn them

Dreaming now, as they do, of the future where they have yet to die

Memorize my loving tone, o'er high flown masts and waves of gold

Endure it will, though I am lost, and all my treasure sold

Some Small, Great Hope

Changing my actions so as to change my circumstances, I can perhaps make the circumstances like my dreams. Then when whatever "someday" is comes around, maybe I'll find that by making my dreams a reality on my way to them, I will be a bit more ready for them when they inevitably still catch me by surprise. But I think that perhaps that's exactly the sort of behavior fit for that faraway land of hopes and heartache. Because I don't know for certain if there will be a light at the end of this tunnel when I come to it, but I do certainly suspect that it is just the sort of place in which one could light a very great fire no matter the darkness. And so that's just what I'm doing now, lighting these fires. In my own small way, I'm practicing eternity while I still live. In that way, there's a chance I can make a difference, light a fire, that's bigger than one life. Then what is death, worry, pain, fear? If you've already live so fully, then you've already lived forever. These passing doubts and hindrances can't possibly matter to someone who is passionately sold out to something that no longer plays by those rules. It's a small hope that I have, but it's all I have and therefore is also a great hope.

______________________________________________

"But let me tell you something wonderful, a mystery I'll probably never fully understand. We're not all going to die—but we are all going to be changed. You hear a blast to end all blasts from a trumpet, and in the time that you look up and blink your eyes—it's over. On signal from that trumpet from heaven, the dead will be up and out of their graves, beyond the reach of death, never to die again. At the same moment and in the same way, we'll all be changed. In the resurrection scheme of things, this has to happen: everything perishable taken off the shelves and replaced by the imperishable, this mortal replaced by the immortal. Then the saying will come true:

Death swallowed by triumphant Life!

Who got the last word, oh, Death?

Oh, Death, who's afraid of you now?

It was sin that made death so frightening and law-code guilt that gave sin its leverage, its destructive power. But now in a single victorious stroke of Life, all three—sin, guilt, death—are gone, the gift of our Master, Jesus Christ. Thank God!"
(1 Cor. 15:51-57 MSG)

A Better Way Out

Face your fears, turn the lights out
I wanna know if you can live without
The constant reminder that
There’s so much you would take back
Make your choices and choose them well
You’ve been looking for heaven while stumbling through hell
Why don’t you try the not-so-beaten track
You’ll be on your way back

You’ve been livin’ like you’re hangin’ off the edge of a cliff
Wonderin’ if you’d be missed if you let go of it
When you can’t see how much you have to give
Lookin’ for a reason to live
You’ve been hurtin’ from the words that cut you just like knife
And I would bet that your regrets still keep up at night
I know your heads still filled with doubts
But there’s a better way out than this

As you wonder what they’re thinking when everybody stares
Yeah, there’s a light that illumines and a light that glares
And recently, with all the things they’ve been saying, you can’t see your way and
The words that she has written have you torn up inside
So you run the same direction that almost killed you last time
But it doesn’t have to be that way, no, these chains can break
We’ll watch them break

You walk down by the water
You walk down by the water, but you’re not alone
I’ll walk with you, I’ll walk with you, we’re goin’ home
Yeah, you can call me up whenever
We can make it through together, you’re not alone
I’ll walk with you, I’ll walk with you, we’re goin’ home

Deeply Into Thoughts of You

Everywhere I go, the memories follow strangely behind

Catching up with me on the edge of each experience

The pieces filling up the space

As I slowly disappear once again

Deeply into thoughts of you

I've taken many paths away

Each footstep a flag blown by stormy winds

Every tree branch in my way like your soft hands

Ghostly breaths that for a moment hold me

Sometimes scratching me with their twisting boughs

Deeply into thoughts of you

Hanging here, out of balance

I stare down at the cuts on my hand

Thinking of where I fell so hard

Cherishing the scars that still remain

Squeezing out the last bits of gravel and earth

Then burying my tear-stained face

Deeply into thoughts of you

Wisdom (second draft)

A good heart, a good head, he said

Are the cobblestones that lead to wisdom's door

But even if I become good enough to reach it

There is a certain apprehension in knocking upon that door

For I know I cannot enter

And sit with wisdom awhile

As the scholars do

Only to find that wisdom bores of their company

No, I do not seek wisdom's table

Nor wisdom's hand

To woo and court wisdom

Until wisdom is with me wed

And wisdom's dowry some status

For that is an ugly and certain annulment

No, wisdom is my better, I know

But even if I must drag wisdom

From wisdom's doorway across the stones of a good head and heart

Far beyond all that is good

To the place where truth itself lies bleeding in the streets

There will I watch as wisdom washes the wounds

And comments softly

Saying something I’m not yet quite ready to hear

Then will I be wisdom's assistant

Running for water or handing wisdom the bandages when asked,

Changing bedpans and taking the blood-pressure of wisdom's patients

Sitting by the bedside of those that wisdom just could not save

As they pass with wisdom's own words on their lips

A benediction in homage of the one who at first came with such effort

But then upon seeing the need, offered all wisdom could give

Knowing that sometimes you must do everything to save

And sometimes you must let what is dead be dead

For there are so many with good intentions

But wisdom lies somewhere apart from all that

Most often found in between somewhere

Picking up the pieces of truth

As it lies beaten, bruised, and bloody

Upon streets of cobblestone and question marks

Unfinished thoughts we stopped thinking

So we could listen a little closer