doldrums.

Highway Wars

Did the highway win? Or was I just left alone?
Because I’ve been searching for my better friends, but I keep coughing through clouds of smoke.
And nobody laughs, but I know there must be a joke.
Now I can’t see anything and I’d like to think God would at least have the decency to change the light bulb.

I once fought for what I couldn’t have, what a waste of a year.
I spent the next few months working through emotions by throwing blind punches through the air.
Now I’m alone outside of a coffee shop on main street, where the empty stores just stare.
I’m finding clarity
Ashing my cigarette out on the irony of being alone on a crowded street.

What We Left

We were born fireside
into the empty heart’s of our town’s eyes.

They say it gets better.
That, kid, you better believe it.
At least,
That’s what I’ve heard.

But it gets so hard seeing clear sometimes.
Leaving behind the lines cast by the streetlights of your town
So we could hide
letting the camp fire smoke fill our souls most warmer nights.

I still smile, and I hope you dream the same.

What they tried to tell me about therapy
I think I all but learned myself.
Because there’s a song and a friend,
A drink, and words worth sharing,
A toast to nights that never end.

You Were A Beautiful Season

I stared holes in the southern night sky for half an hour.
The late summer wind reminding me of you, rubbing its hands through my long red hair before quickly leaving.
Missing you only leads to two things:
Smoking and Dreaming.
And often times it’s hard to tell the difference between the two.

I can’t keep staring holes through the tree lines every night.
Always letting the cold air touch me, like you used to, telling me you’re really gone.
You were a beautiful season and your heart reminded me of home.
But you bleed me out when you told me you were leaving.

I think I still taste the blood on my teeth
And staring out into the southern nights has become my only relief.
I think I’ve found some consistency.
You are not coming back.

Floods

I half muttered out a tone,
Thinking that I might want to sing
Instead of saying whatever it was
I thought I needed to say.

In my head I saw you sitting on your throne
Tearing apart your crown in chokes and bits of rage.
Not mad from loss or departure of love,
Only because my fickle tongue was the first to throw it away.

I caught myself staring at the ground
And thinking to myself, “you’ve had too much to drink..”
But I must’ve said it out loud
Because you only smiled and told me I should do my best not to think.

So I bit my lip
And tried hard, but the weather wouldn’t change.
You were once a lover like the end of summer,
But now I couldn’t see for the rain.

Everything is flooded
And I think it’s true that some thoughts were meant to sink in burst of nicotine.

English For Boring

I can’t get over the feeling that I’m writing like you’re watching over my shoulder.
Main street seems colder
And you’re trying to pass me off to your friends.
I light a cigarette to calm my nerves.
“Which one is she again..?”
I must be an asshole because they can’t keep my attention.

Floating in and out of backdoors.
Have fun, but at who’s expense?
I’m getting bored with your friends.
And getting better at ignoring your stares and keeping my distance.

Downstairs at the party
Try hard to talk like I give a shit
Smoking through bad conversations and hiding my disinterest.
You’re upstairs waiting on me.
Staring at the ceiling, probably falling half asleep.
I climb each step wishing I had drank enough to close my eyes where I fall
But it’s hard to drink in the company you keep.
If you said any words I forgot to keep count.
Closed my eyes dreaming of washing the weekend from my hair with this doubt.

Everybody Leaves And I’d Expect As Much From You

Suddenly the love you used seems older now.
And just like lightning, I find you falling down.
You’re a coffee shop that’s closed while it’s cold on mainstreet.
You’re a king without a crown.
You’re a ride to the station
As an old love packs up her things to head out of town.
And at least she got out of here..

So I wait and light it up.
The hours burn slow and scratch at my tongue
And the waitress comes by and pours nostalgia into my cup.
She’s a consolation sigh, but hasn’t the heart to tell me that you won’t come.
But I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t show.
So I wait
And I wait
And I wait ‘til my coffee turns cold
And the graveyard jukebox is telling me to go home.

But I can only sing along to
Southern accents on the radio.
I know I won’t sleep or let it go.
But it’s over now.
And she let me go.
So just let me know that we’re older now.
And we did this when we were young.

Alone With Everything

Alone where your decisions fell short of your intentions.
Alone to pull out your roots dug deep into my veins.
Alone where I lost my hold on hope in my ill attempt at vision.
Alone like everything and nothing
Nobody, not even the rain.

I feel far from what home should be most days.
Lord knows I can’t sleep or relate to the company I keep.
Or does he?
At least..
I know he knows we don’t speak.

You barely bit me
But your vampire teething left me dry.
I’ve been reading books about my faith
But my fickle thoughts can’t figure out whether it’s for understanding
Or just to pass the time..

Salt Saved Heart

Lying in bed with these tired bones I don’t like to be alone with.
Tree limbs scratch at the window, I make believe they’re your fingertips.
Tapping at the glass, wanting to brush the side of my face.
But three months absence tells me you don’t remember how my beard once felt
And that you probably can’t.

I am the loneliest of stories
I am the salt that preserved your heart
I am the pride
Your heaven sent glory
The very things that keep me from admittedly falling apart.

a.m. eyes

Three in the morning.
Coffee.
I dream, half asleep,
Everything is beautiful.

I must have lost my mind in a rabbit hole.

Imprints.

I stare at the grooves left on my handlebars of my old and retired childhood bike. Starts to make me wonder if you have the same erosion from my arms holding you, pressed against your side. Or if my hand is imprinted slightly above your hip,
just to the right.

If so
I’d like to know
If the empty spaces ever keep you from sleeping at night.