The Sun at 8 PM

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Reaching, outpouring
Wanting to forget about never knowing
Falling or sleeping
Or dreaming of being awake
I can’t find someone to give back
All this regret I continue to take
Wake me up
Before I go under
I want to remember the way
You looked up at me in wonder
There’s silence in the trees
And a lack of air at night
And no matter what medication i take
Nothing I stick inside me feels right
All the depressive
Without a manic to be found
I reach for your hand
But i’m not safe
when you’re around
And across my eyes
There’s a forest burning
They all cry for help
Because the earth keeps on turning
I don’t think they get the monopoly
Humans have on hate
Because even with loss
They just want to get away
So the sun melts
And you walk out the door
And at long last I remember
That you weren’t there anymore
There’s been years since your touch
And the trees are now ash
And when I get a little better
I’m just close to another crash
But in the cinders and dust
From that old wood
Life will rise again as it should
Yet only in a dream
Will you come to me
And my life is always fleeting
Just as it should be

Circular Anxiety

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Sitting idly
No silence in the air
So I’m left in my head
Thoughts in rotation
Every word I’ve said
Autonomously moving
Like the changing of the clock
Tick tock
Tick tock
Why did I?
Why did I not?
If there’s reason for the Viewmaster in my head
Constantly changing between the scenes
Of fixated regret
I can’t make it out or try to get it to change to a different reel
There’s no choice or chance or change to American monuments or creatures of the rainforest
Just monumental fuck ups
And the list of people I’ve made dislike me
I wish I could stop the flash
The fleeting thoughts
But they come and go and tick away
Tick tock
Click of the reel
Constantly in motion and when it stops it begins again
Circular anxiety

Glaring Omission

Standard

(red curtain)

don’t forget
we all fall
and there’s nothing left
at the final call
to leave behind
or store away
because we can apologize
some other day
i won’t please you
you can’t speak to me
we don’t understand
the language of being
softer words
than the touch of your tongue
and my mouth writes monologues
that your lips haven’t sung
yet despite the lack
of oxygen
between you and me
i still find far too many allusions

to our own soliloquy

Under the Skin

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(no more)

Under my skin
You fell so deep
Lips like honey
Against my skin your kisses seep
Dripping like rain
On tear soaked diary pages
Leave it all to me
Running off as the storm rages
Left to find solace in empty memories
Recalling what you’ve remember a thousand times before
It’s time you realized that what you picture
Isn’t there anymore
You make your way under my skin
And I yearn for those sugar soaked eyes
And warm embraces made of gin
I want to remember
What I want you to think of me
But what’s in my head – the dreams that I see
There’s nothing there that is based in reality
Nothing that we can reach to, from under the skin
Anything that we can make flesh
Anything we can begin

Seasonal Ineffective

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(sun sickness)

 

Caught up in a tangle of ninety-three individual days
Circadian cycles passing in some heatstroke haze
Catch up just to fall behind
And see the water fall beneath
In our heads – the only images lies
In some dusty, dried creek
Ripples of forgetful
You take what you can get
See what you still remember
Crowded pathways of those
Just waiting for December
And we sit and wait because
The global warming feels so nice today
The ice caps can melt
But we all take swimming lessons anyway
And why look over the rim of the bomb shelter
To see what the observers have to say
Oh well
We all have to die some day

 

Ninety-three days pass
And I still don’t know when we begun
I’m just waiting for the world the end
Because I’m getting just a little sick of the sun

Here We Go Again

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Here we go again
No pencil to paper
But flesh to screen
Letting out streams of unbroken consciousness
In no new way then what was done before
But the writing gives no way to myself
My scrawl of ink scratching across some old notepad, no –
Instead across tepid electronic keyboard
And cold glass screen
Is there any of me
In what I do not touch?
Is there any emotion
In the places I do not reach?
Here we go again
Attempting to find
To feel
But it feels so empty and cold
And gives away none of emphasis I’d want to show
And so it’s all for show
Here we go again
Attempting to find
Trying to begin.

Reception in the Middle of Nowhere

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(watchtower)

Is she always there
Standing over me
Watching as the seasons change
Over some sleepy, wondering sea
Across her face and beneath her eyes
Is always the same wistful gaze
Reflections floating like young waves
Crashing just to show their size
The air gets dry
As the music grows dreamy
Synth sounds and electric emotions
As my head gets heavy beneath me
Roads pass by
And signs grow far out of distance
The radio changes with the reception –
Before we hit the chorus
And I sit looking out the rearview mirror
The radio tower lights blinking at me
Like a watch tower searching for a signal
And I wonder
If I might’ve left it on the interstate
And that’s why the music sounds so abysmal
And the static that crackles is its own accusatory finger
Blaming me for not trying harder
To get it back

Tomorrow to Come

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(summer soliloquy)

Who could tell
Who could wonder why
When summer passes through me
Like tears on hazy honey eyes
When it floats away, like those dreams on the big open sea
And life is simply another
Lonely menagerie
Things will never be the same
As they were before
Quiet songs on the record player
Spinning old songs of anti-war
Kissing in the driveway
Before you head back home
Silent cravings felt
Sitting in our separate rooms
But one of these days
Everything will finally stop moving slow
And finally it will feel like
Time has a flow
And tomorrow will come
‘At long last’ we’ll cry
And I’ll sleep next you
As the world goes by.

What’s Left of What Was Said

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I sit beside the crowds of people I see everyday
Yet cannot bring myself to recognize
I don’t understand a single word they say
But Lord, how I try
Perching in the rafters above the rumble of empty words
Faces that don’t mean a thing to me
I look over the scape and I don’t understand what I’ve heard
Stuck like a piece of twine between two adjacent trees
Across it all
What matters at all
Is the fading permanence of it all
Imprints in the sand just meant to fade
Collide and walk away
Fiercely in love
With the concept of numbered days
And trying to walk back down roads already once tread
Picking up the pieces of what’s left in the dust
Picking up what’s left of what was said

 

Sitting in the back seats as the cameras roll
And the seasons shift
Everyone knows how to brace for the cold
But I still can’t manage to patch this rift
Sitting between us from across the vine
I can’t tell what we’re trying to repair
Where I am, I can only try to find the time
To try to see where the next blow is going to hit
To stand alone and wait for the world to forget
A world full of cotton stuffed people
Around me sits a sea of ingenue
Perching in the shadow of some forgotten steeple
How can flesh and blood relate to felt and sinew?
They know better than I what they’re trying to get
Desperately in love with what they can introspect
And what they’ll be able to forget
They all think we’re all just left for dead
Left holding the broken strings of their marionette
Left with what’s left of what was said

You and I – there isn’t any time
Before the buttons get stitched over our eyes
And we sit up in the middle of the night, alone from our separate beds –
Dreaming about what’s left of what was said

Shattered Glass

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The wind howls louder still
Reaching for the empty heart
Of someone who never got their fill
Of a life that has yet to start
All of those hopeful flames
Dancing in such a cold, dark room
Ever so reluctant to respond to the change
We forget that we aren’t the same
Despite our matching tombs

So open your lungs
And breathe in
All these shards of shattered glass
Left in the future
From the pieces of our broken past
Breath out
All these shards of shattered glass
When we all stand alone
Who will be left to last?

Soak in the left over memories
And face the mirror
See the man you built
Out of the anger of all that you couldn’t achieve
Did you hear that it all comes crashing down?
Like the missed notes
Of your favorite love song
It’s going to come back around –
Despite the coughing and blood in your breath
We know the lost will eventually be found

So open your lungs
And breath in that shattered glass
No falling water can cleanse
What moves so fast
Breath out all that shattered glass
The pain will lose its edge
Though the scars always last
And while you lie sleeping
And I’m lost in my head
I’ll gather up all that shattered glass
Left behind on all those roads I’ve yet to tread