Friday, February 28, 2014

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.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

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. 

Monday, February 17, 2014

"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.

Monday, February 3, 2014

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.

Saturday, February 1, 2014

1:24 AM

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

Monday, December 30, 2013

Oh, December

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.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013


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.

Thursday, December 19, 2013


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.
It’s hopeless.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Dear Old Friend

I know your house burnt down, but I’ve had the same fire burning in my head before.
Kissing the wires of my brain while I find my nerves washing up on shore.
I still have the taste in my mouth of white ash and where the salt dried it out.
I think of you sometimes, but I can’t picture your voice anymore.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Ashtrays and Windowpanes

What a shame
My grandfather will never see the man I’ll be.
The music I’ll make
Or the girl who might one day share my name.

Oh, blood rust, what have you taken from us?
And, God, have you ever been tame?

Take me back to seventeen where I could wash myself clean on the riverbanks.
Among other things,
Drinking heart break and smoking revelry in the rain.

Bitter kids amidst better friends
Ashing out and leaving our stains to be replaced by the songs we’d sing
In hopes grace would swing low, bringing hope, and carrying our troubles away.

Therapy, you’ve always came in melodies.
Faith, I’m thankful you were always there to keep me sane.

I’ll fall asleep dreaming of leaving a cigarette burning in the ashtray just to do away with the whole damned thing.