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.
I Woke Up Sleeping
Who do you think I am?
I want to be the curve in your spine at two a.m.
And not the memory left in your book case.
Do you think I’m the hands that would snap to ensure your back didn’t break?
It’s just something that I’d like to know.
Do you remember me like the lingering taste from a coffee cup just before you brush your teeth and walk out the front door?
You don’t owe me anything,
But I wonder how you remember lying in my arms and the way our hearts pounded against the floor
and how you said I kept you warm.
You smiled trying to keep count of the times I told you your eyes were blue in my friend’s kitchen.
Conversation lost in a background of songs
And in the morning when we woke up, I remember wanting to be your thoughts on your long drive home.
I should’ve told you before you left.
I wish I had told you before you left.
I wonder how you remember laughing
In the kitchen of my parent’s house
After the party clean up was over and my friends died down,
I still tell the story.
In the darkness of my bedroom I kissed your skin
And it tasted just as sweet as it did that night on the banks where the river bends
When the rain came in and washed the campfire dreams from our hair.
I’d ask, but it’s too late for calling.
And better sense would say,
"Just fall asleep, kid. She won’t answer anyway."
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.
I’ve felt like Atlas
Shouldering stones cast by the flick of a wrist.
I’ve been holding up the night sky
And counting the stars as my breath covers them.
I’d apologize for keeping my head in the clouds,
But I like the way the night creeps in and fills the empty space between my ribs
Where you used to live,
And I don’t want to come down tonight
And I don’t want to come down tonight
If I were a ghost I would walk up and down your staircase as
A reminder of the times you’ve haunted the hardwood floor
outside of my bedroom door.
I found out the blues could follow you when I moved,
How is it you can still haunt a place you’ve never been to before?
Three hours away from home
And optimism in my bones.
I saw a town burning in my rearview, and I saw you dancing in the flames.
Of everything to let go and be erased, you’ve stayed
So lovely in my mind and the most beautiful thing about this state.
I must be a monster
Ripping hearts out for St. Nick’s sake.
One day away,
How could a spine collapse so close to the holidays?
I put my memories tied-tight in my stockings
And I dropped it in the fireplace.
How will I know if my actions are right or justified?
I can’t help but to think it won’t be revealed by
Turning off my phone
Staring at the ceiling without the lights on.
You let your hair down
And I let my hair grow.
"What’s to be left in the past?", you ask..
..How the hell should I know?
I’m but one man.
and empty space in my left hand.
It’s like I’m riding a stolen bike at three a.m. on Demonbreun street.
Going around and around and around and around in circles
Waiting for the city lights to speak.