"They're just feelings. And no one cares about your feelings..."
Troy sucked down another hot and dry swig of his shaggy cigarette, which he rolled himself like he always does. I gazed out the window as midday Concord was pulled into a long stretching blur. "Damn. He's right." I thought. "No one cares about how you feel about anything. No one gives a damn unless it relates or has something to do with them." Troy turned down Claycord Ave. We were getting close to Clints house. I stayed silent for a while, thinking about all my feelings. Thinking about all the things I was afraid to share, all the opinions I kept bottled up, all the people who didn't care, including myself. It was like learning a new word. Or, seeing the World a bit more clearly. We sped by a goofy looking handmade mailbox resting on a long wooden beam. We were close, but I stayed silent the rest of the drive.

The creeping danger of all things
Eager and foamy with red lips
Congregating between the auburn brows
Meticulously sketched up on my forehead

Closer to me seems the crumbling cliff
Sending it's stones heavily into the drink
I become uncertain of a sure thing
That today, old gravity will surely fail me.

My wings are clipped, my beak is broken
These vicious talons are all I have left.
I am an eager lizard kicking at the gravel
My clumsy scales quiver at the Sun

Shame becomes a ill companion
Coughing and beckoning to be groomed
Flipping through dusty crackling pages
In a memory book called Regret

One day I may savagely rule this world
But today, I am afraid.

Tease

Six sided shapes decorate your walls

An old piano in your living room

Your bed rest several feet above the ground

I can tell you enjoy your sex

You're paint yourself from head toe

and drape a loose shirt across your breast

A tight squeeze of denim jeans

The clinky janlging of cheap jewelry

You like to sit real close to me

But your eyes fight to make contact

I'll let you steal a few sips of my drink

As I try to relax into my seat

I think you want just a taste of me

You couldn't handle the whole thing

I want to lick you like you're ice cream

You're just as cold, but not as sweet

One Way Conversation

TO: Jake

Hey, man.

I didn't know you. I don't know you. And given the circumstances I will never get a chance to know you. To fully know you, I mean. What I do know is that we went to the same school, were in the same grade, or at least a neighboring grade, and that you had a wide smile that covered the vastness of your plainly handsome face. I've tried to read your personality through pictures. You're laughing, smiling, singing, and shouting. I can only observe your exclamations in and through silence. You are, were, very much real. Living a life I knew nothing about with mutual friends that I've drifted further from. Now these distant friends post your picture on every social media center, the news has your name bolstered in black, white, and red across the headlines. There are forums with comments filled with opinions about you, about your death, about your killer. And your face is clearer in my mind today than ever before, including the times we may or may not have passed each other in our high schools halls, or more likely, briskly across the senior lawn. I think I remember you were an A's fan. I recall you celebrating with a gleaming smile in the iconic green and yellow coat and hat. Could be a mistaken memory. Could have been another face in an endless crowd. And the same could be said of your circumstances, this could have happened to anyone else, it could have been another unlucky soul struck down by the fierce bite of that bullet. And perhaps you could have enjoyed this cloudy eclipse, gleaming that contagious smile back towards the hidden Sun. And I would continue on not knowing you, not needing to have this conversation with the idea of your poltergeist. So even though I never knew you, and never will, I wish you were here.

Today I Got A Haircut

I am not a poet. But I am inclined to write. 

Silly how distant one can feel from his own thoughts.

As if a thought is anything to own.

Ownership. "This is mine. I claim this."

Certain desires arise from the grip of claim.

"I claim this and therefore it is mine. 

I shall protect it, care for it, and respect it."

Over time:

"This has gotten old. What else is there to claim?

I will neglect this, reject this, deflect this.

Yet my clasp shall remain tight upon my ownership over this."

At least, this is true for me. 

Truth. What is it anymore?

Has truth always remained the same, or

like a pocket of wind, or body of water

is truth defined heavily by it's immediate influence?

I.e. gravity, temperature, the moon, a vacuum between adjacent buildings.

I am no mystery.

There isn't much to me.

I want food, drink, fucking, and popularity.

There is the corner of humanity that fits me.

And though I am not mysterious, 

I keep myself hidden,

Fear...

Staring at the monster face to face.

My own personal devil.

By no means am I spectacular.

I am ordinary, plain white bread, bleached of all nutrients.

Current state: edible but not nutritious.

Current mood: excited but not necessarily excited.

Plagued by a lack of education.

I am an animal wandering the streets.

I dodge cars in traffic and pick at the scraps thrown to me,

with the audacity to be choosy.

I am filth.

Becoming the trash I consume.

I am grim.

The settling murderous black clouded dust.

There is a war within me.

And I am the War.

Victory: Life

Penalty: Death 

Obstacles: Honesty, courage, vulnerability, clarity, assurance, confidence.

There is a long drawn out wire before me.

It is suspended at a terrifying height.

It stretches out and across into the darkness.

And I know something is on the other side.

Will it be wonderful?

With decorated frills and erotic confetti?

Or is there only more darkness, more wire, more suspense?

Who cares.

This is my corner of humanity.

I might have chosen it.

I might have built it.

Either way, I have staked my claim.

And I accept that this claim may only be a phase

an oscillating phase that takes an eternity to come full circle

And this softens the blow

pads the pillow

But I am not a poet

Just a catastrophe with a built in panic button. 

Satisfaction

Satisfaction runs from me

And kicks dust into my face

If I peer through the settling cloud

I can almost see it in the distance

I very much play the fool

who wades in the cooling waters

a dreadful thirst rises in me

But I am too stubborn to drink

A vice to quench the temporary

need to speed the inevitable.

Breathe it in or choke it down.

It comes and goes just as fast.

The boy in me wants sweets and cakes

and to clamor all day long

The man wants love and respect

and to wrestle sumptuously into the night

 

Rust and Ruin

There's a breeze blowing on me

It's whistling songs into my ear

I can hear all my memories

But I can't hold on to anything

I took a walk last Saturday

without ever leaving my home

I thought of you coming through my door

And then I woke from a dream

I've been tumbling down empty streets

Avenues trimmed with rust and ruin

Leaning against tall buildings

I used to play it down, now it's coming round

I used to shake it off, now it's shaking me

There's a breeze blowing through the trees

All my nerves go nerve goes weak

And I go down

to the middle and the surface below
to the trembling streets all torn apart

Down to the trouble ringing out like a siren

Down to the pressure and its folding me properly

I've been tumbling down empty streets

Avenues trimmed with rust and ruin

Leaning against tall buildings

I'm trying to hold on but everything's crumbling

We make mistakes
In each others embrace

You tore up the papers
Ripped the pages from every book
You lie there desperate
Broke but not broken
You took a deep breath
Full of smoke and resin
Forcing yourself into a dream

You drank every single ounce
And it filtered out
Blink once if you can hear me
A head full of medicine
A fist full of questions
Ask and you shall receive
You've conquered everything
Except your own
You make these promises
You say the words
But do you mean them?

Imagine another life
where you were cut
from every sound
There is no other like you
If you could turn it around
Could put it down
for a while
would you?

The Sun will burn out
But not before you
There is a universe
An endlessness
Reach out and touch it
There is a hemisphere
A ring of light
Singing like the sunrise
Reach out
Reach out and touch it

Ok you've proved your love
I get it, you want me
Every phone call, every text message
You're torturing us both

Do you really want me to be your man?
I can be a tireless effort
But I can't tell if you actually understand
Or if you are just as selfish as me

You can kiss me, we can fuck
Perhaps somewhere in there make love
It's my head that isn't there
Nor here or anywhere

I get it, you're feeling guilt
You swallowed before you could taste it
Now there's a lump stuck in your throat
Choke it down with haste

For a while I felt guilt
It lingered in every blink
My legs were set to run far away
But I waited in disbelief