Sunday, February 28, 2010

For You

What else can I do? I stand in the way of life's harshest pains for you. I look out into the open sea and I witness the pitfalls and the darkest clouds. I lay myself down in the trenches for you to cross, I will climb the highest mount, to oversee your passage in safety. I am tired, my eyes are heavy but I stay awake, to watch you safely sleep. I walk a million miles to fall at your feet, I lift my head to reach your lips. I see the fire, but walk on through, I travel through the thickets of thorns, bearing your cross, and bearing mine, I walk on coals aflame, I will be your strength, our tie that binds. I sacrifice my life for ours, for us together, for us forever. There was never a me without you, and there will never be a you without me, I dedicate each breath each ounce of strength, to your side and ever abide in the shadows or sunshine of your love. Each of these things I do, I will forever do. I do for you.


The song is on repeat, and so are these thoughts. Spinning round like a choice vinyl record, needle catching the grooves and expressing sweet melodies of misery. Each time it starts again, I relive the confusion and pain. No one has the right answers or sweet words to soothe the inner beast, congested thoughts fighting for my attention. Which way do I turn, which way do I look, is there a brighter side. "I, I think I am going to cry, I, I don't want you to see me cry......" These words linger around like adolescent children outside a gas station in rural anywhere, America. I am not sure that this is something I can change. I can think on these things as long as I'd like but what is the outcome, the needles tore through and the damage done, blood rises to the skin, and I bloodlet. There is no relief this way, there is no relief from my mind, anger, confusion, fear, hurt, most of all hurt. Maybe its me, maybe I am not so sure what really happens in these type of situations, maybe I overreact, maybe I am wrong. Maybe I have no idea. I can listen to records all day and they all say the same thing, love is lost and love is gained and no one wants to turn their back on love, but what happens to those who hurt? What happens to those who cannot be strong? Are they doomed to a shaky foundation that slowly crumbles away at simple things like laughter, holding hands, and laying next to each other comfortably? Who can build a house on shifting sands? Too many questions and not enough answers or maybe just not any answers I want to hear.

The Man Who Couldn't Cry

Troubled water, and pain in my eyes. Can't seem to shake these tears from my mind, they won't come to the surface, try as I might. No water has washed away these things I can't understand. How could something so sweet, be so bitter in my own mouth. There is no comfort in this moment, only abrasive thoughts that tear into each memory uninvited, and unwanted. Maybe I need sometime to think, though these thoughts they never help, they are overcast clouds sitting there waiting to pour dismay all over my being. Listening to heartache and sorrow, although none could quite explain how I feel. There is no song that aptly describes where I am. Lost and confused, decisions not only my own, thoughts that have decided to make my mind their home. Smiles turn down at the corners of the mouth and a seriousness I do not welcome settles on my face. Million mile stares that occupy my time, as teary eyes dream of release. Morose inspiration and creative mind goes to work as my heart cries a little more. Tears escape me, by not my spirit, not my mind. Maybe finally I have found the man that couldn't cry.

Thursday, February 25, 2010


My hand meeting yours midway through embrace, beautiful coveting our lips reaching face to face. I am almost there, there is only there, a solitary place. Your heart, your breath, your movement, laying but no rest. I can see you dream, I can see everything, eyes have it all, your mind it calls, I can hear your voice. Angelic tones reach my head, swoon everlasting, mesmerize, my heart capsize, overboard, in the sea, lost in peace with you. Skin so near, skin so delicate, you are the rose, bloom and blush. Lush and heavenly, divine near, divine far, divinity in my heart. I can't hold, out you pour, cup runneth over, ground you touch, ground you bless, perfect for a moment, nothing more, nothing less. Sweet taste on my lips, wait with baited breath for another kiss.

Sunday, February 7, 2010


My body is tired. I can barely sleep these days. When every thought is a painful return to the morose musings that maintain my misery. I remember walking down that road, beautiful in its simplicity. Walking listening to the wind, and hearing each footstep against the hardened dirt path. That ditch where there were so many other footsteps. I wondered if they were just as desperate and lost as I. When eyes meet mine, there is no sense of sanity anymore, my gaze is wild, my stare is infinite. No more soul behind these windows, no more depth. Only shallow visions, only pain. What was it that was lost, who has forsaken me that I must endure this world in solitude?

It wasn't always this way. I can take myself back through the years, through my head. In these recollections I can smile, almost entirely out of madness, I smile. I look back on the day when I sat in my garden weeding through the unwanted foliage and plant material amongst the vegetables and flowers I had sown. The sun rising as I am digging my hands into the earth. I awoke to the taste of fresh air and a promise of a great day. I would make my morning coffee, slowly dripping were grounds soaked with boiling hot water, dropping browned water into the pot of early morning libation. I imbibed each sip with patience and cigarette smoke, right up next to the window pane, looking out into the day and endlessly into the possibilities. I had companions, my books, my pets, my job, my friend. My funny friend, always there, close by. Even if I drew no pleasure from the simple life that I lived, my friend enjoyed each moment of freedom and each new experience.

When the early mornings came too quick my friend and I welcomed each ray of light from the uncovered window. I sat and read a few pages of my favorite book and would start out on my way towards work 8 miles away, a beautiful and peaceful bicycle ride. The return home was always welcomed. I would walk through my old and quirky wooden door, pour myself a glass of cold water and go outside and sit in my favorite spot in the garden. I would watch as bees buzzed around my flower garden and the birds hovered overhead. Such simplicity it could make me cry, but every single second of enjoyment seems to fade away into the dark and desperate night that quickly ensued. These moments were not protected from the harsh realities of life, the pains, and fears that substances and alcohol would bring.

Ecstatic, it was a new place, a new life, a new direction. Nevermind that I had just been released from all my legal responsibilities. No more supervised probation, no more daily tests, no more meetings to attend with the threat of jail looming. All my legal fears slowly moved away. I entered into this new apartment with the excitement of life fresh and running through my veins. I was determined to do well at work and make my way through school with purpose in my life. How quickly walls come crumbling down and foundations are shook to their core. I slowly withdrew from life, light, work, family, and friends. I moved further into my cave, this place used to be so bright with smiles and laughter echoing in the halls and rooms. Now each room with curtains drawn, paranoia hanging thick in the air, along with the stench of stale cigarette smoke and the broken walls, broken mirrors, and broken hearts. House plants withered away as did my mind. I fought back with my soul but the grips of the night and the absence of light held tightly to my spirit and stifled my being. I was being drowned in my own self-loathing. A new hope turned into an ever-present option of self termination. I survived, but what part of me survived? What escaped, because I was not unscathed. I barely remain alive in any sense of the word.

I can recall one day in particular. It was a run of the mill weekday. Nothing special or damning about it, but my how it was incredibly damned. I awoke to the annoying and painful sound of the alarm clock. A repetitive sound, not so much a buzzing but more like an emergency alert system over the radio. The sound disturbed my slumber so horribly and I jumped from my bed and hustled to get dressed and ready for work before I was counted late. As I sprung from the comfort of the sheets I found the closest clothes I could. The pain from the night before still lingered in my head, fatigue from lack of sleep and over-indulgence in alcohol. I rushed out to my car and sped to work. Countless times I would do this with no problems whatsoever. This day marked a new point in my life, a point in which I would beg for change. I paused lightly at the stop sign just down the road from my residence. As I sped from the sign blue and white lights that mark the beast flashed in my rear view mirror. Fear struck me, suddenly I was wondering if I was still too drunk to be operating a vehicle. I questioned whether or not I had anything illegal in my possession or in the car. I quickly composed myself enough to handle the traffic stop. It was a quick and simple stop. I was warned by young policeman who seemed idealistic and hopeful for his position of authority. I took heed to his warnings and stopped at every stop sign completely thereafter. Still shaken, inebriated and late for work. The day would only get more difficult. I wonder if I should have called in and stayed home, would that have changed the course of my life? I do not know, but i could only hope that events wouldn't have been so painful................................

Thursday, February 4, 2010

This Life

Pastel Skies, and baby's breath wind. Slow moving days and whirlwind nights. Struggling to keep up with your own pace, each foot goes one in front of the other yet I still can't find the right way to walk. This path it winds and twists and turns, it rises and falls, the hills and the valleys it all changes constantly. Never enough time to get comfortable. Its beautiful, it makes so much sense and none whatsoever all at once. I look up and I see the promised land, its 27 feet in front of me yet all I can do to get there is move at a snails pace. Inching my way there it seems light years away. I have to take time to enjoy the journey, the raft ride down wild rapids that shake my foundations, and loosen my leaves, break my branches and lift me from out my roots. The clouds scream of cotton candy, with pink and orange skies that drip dreamsicle drops as they weep. Going to sleep knowing that those dreams you dream are only rearranged thoughts of yesteryear, and a house of mirrors reflecting crazy thoughts and forgotten feelings. Can your fantasies come true if they are only reflecting what you do and already feel. Trying not to let these things interfere with the day to day workings that we stress, mull, and cringe over. No one wants to clean their room, and do the dishes, drive to work, or wake up too early, not on our way to the place we ought to be, wherever that might be. I can see that place for any of us, especially myself. I have seen that country, that state, that city, the town, that place. It has that perfect temperate climate that lifts your spirits as temperatures rise and cools your mind as the mercury drops. The seasons change and so does your mind, we grow and bloom in sync with the flowers and the grasses. The trees whisper secrets to us and we reciprocate by taking a nap right under its ancient knowledge. Getting there though, thats the part that I enjoy. I see it, and I can feel it. The path there is rough and rocky, its a hard road to walk. Those things that we cannot control, that are unfortunate and aren't as enjoyable as we might want them to be, they are an indefinite part of the process. The heartache and sorrow, the tears and the open wounds, the memories that never seem to let go even though you have tried to force them off your back, all these things, they can hurt and they can bring sorrow in the door like an unwanted guest. Its all part of some crazy, plan, some crazy, twisted and strange plan. Its all part of this life.

Monday, February 1, 2010

The Last Time

Its six a.m.
Feeling pretty decent this morning.
Held her close and felt her chest rise and fall as we breathed together.
Touched her hair and walked out of the room.
Same thing every morning.
Leave little notes behind make her smile.
Play ridiculous amounts of music and drink until someone passes out.
Smoke the 2nd half of her cigarette.
Go out to the movies and laugh at how horrible the movie we paid to see is.
Be bored while we sit in the same space as the day before last.
Go running together.
Fall asleep together. Wake up together.
Laugh together.
Cry together. Many times cry together.
Worry together.
Get excited together.
Plan road trips and look forward to the unknown.
Get afraid of the unknown.
Get sick together and lay in bed whining.
Cook together.
The night before sitting close together watching meaningless television shows.
Sitting that close somehow anything seems a little more meaningful as long as its shared.
Listen to her voice in my head. Think about her.
Dance. Smile. Frown. Hurt. Breathe. Live. Move. Plan. Think. Everything humanly possible do together.
Turn the keys in the door, door unlocks, I walk in and look for her. Calm at first, room after room its empty. Frantic searching in and out of the house.
She is gone.
What if all those things were the last time?