I think you, unknowingly, left your dress in my dreams
And you’re probably not concerned that I can’t fall asleep.
It’s just that, I’ve been tired since I woke up this week
I need to feel the season moving in my head again.
I must’ve told my friends you looked like spring
At least a thousand times the other night.
But you weren’t there to hear me
And every time I just laughed because you would probably disagree.
Tell her I give consent
To the ripping of fresh stitches
Across my chest, across my skin.
My rib cage is only holding in the stars
and what a terrible job it’s doing
I’d like to tell you I think of you often
But the dust of the universe comes out instead.
Short Of Breath; Short Of Interest
Anxiety, my old friend.
Nostalgic tendencies that leave me fidgeting like a little kid
Pacing the aisles
Saving face for a few smiles in the hallway just to have a panic attack in the bathroom at the party.
It’s just that, I think I caught you staring.
It’s just that, I think I felt you not caring.
I drink a little faster..praying the sun comes up before the contents of my stomach.
I know what I’ve killed. No death toll abandoned.
I’ve made a case for burning bridges much faster than I could salvage.
Holy Miles & Exit Signs
I took my shoes off before I touched the holy carpet in your car.
But you’ve set out to prove no amount of anointing oils or respect could get me very far.
So, we drove out west to just to see the ice touch the lakes
And when the snow started falling I couldn’t place blame to my mistakes
So I just shake and I shake and my hands shake
And I hate the way I study your body and face
Searching for some made up language or que to replace the empty space
Where we let conversation drift like cigarette smoke right through the window panes
Where the ashes would die by the roadside.
Casual sighs set the miles.
Shaking hands and speed dials.
How long have I been sleeping, God?
How long have you been sleeping?
February Never Seemed So Angry
Most of these things scare me half to death
Like a deer running for the forest just to meet the wolves out by the ridge
Like a child without an inhaler just struggling for another breath
Like the lady in a fifth avenue flat, staring out over the city from a ledge
Like a soldier a globe away from his family, hands pressed tight trying to keep the blood from leaving the hole in his chest
And I know, I’m no different. I know it doesn’t make much sense.
I’m slamming my head into the steering wheel
It’s the only way I know how to bring the night to an end.
I called you brother, sincerely. I called you my fucking friend.
Away in a city for six or so months while you were back home
I guess you forgot what loyalty meant.
I was just a kid.
Now I’m not so much a kid.
But I’m just a fucking kid, backed into a corner losing my friends.
I told her I felt like the sun
She didn’t quite know what that means.
I told her I felt like the moon
She said I keep changing like the leaves.
I said I’m sorry, darling. With a space to grow and restless feet.
I’m searching for something that feels like home
And this town is nothing but a stack full of records without melodies stuck on repeat.
I told her I felt like leaving
She swallowed cold coffee and we never spoke again.
"It’s too late for calling.." never stopped me before.
I smoke more than I drink because I’d rather keep my head in the sky
As opposed to keeping my feelings with my heart on the floor.
But my friends talked me into whiskey on a familiar back porch
And when they went to bed with their girlfriends
I smoked so many cigarettes and thought of you until I forgot how to breathe.
A missed phone call
An empty voice
Oh, I don’t need you, if you don’t need me.
I want to wash myself clean by the creek.
Does Sleep Ever Mean Sleeping?
I can’t make any sense of
The words that left my lips.
Here’s a toast to the death of common sense
Thinking I could fill the gap in our bridge.
So I won’t tell you,
I won’t tell you, lest my teeth fall out in the morning.
When your eyes are bright like the moon, and blue,
I won’t know
I won’t speak, I just won’t speak.
It’s not like you could find the time.
When the nights thaw out and I walk through your town
I wonder if we’ll be friends then
Or if I’ll even be around.
I grew my hair out because you told me to
And I cut it all off last summer before I moved
Because I couldn’t stop thinking of you.
I can’t make any sense of this.
My Father Told Me To Never Fall In Love With A Dancer Or An Artist
When you asked the color of my eyes I replied that they were simply brown and you looked at me with such disdain and politely asked that I never say that out loud.
You told me my eyes looked like dark swirls of sweet whiskey and that I kept a glare in my eye that someday soon, someone might miss me.
We were all philosophers and alchemist then.
I was the scientist kid with a cigarette,
trying to prove we could find the universe in our lungs in the end.
But I still hear the wolves scratching at the cabin door
And I’m still picking the splinters from my skin where I kept them from coming in before.
I tap along with the rhythm and I flip the record over to play some more.
You flood in like nostalgia in the latest hours to fill my head.
I remember you smiling in the early morning as I told you that I had branches for ribs
Where you could carve your name in.
Now you’re heavy thoughts dragging my eyes towards dreams
And I just want to kiss your collarbone and sing you to sleep
Because this bed is empty.