remember

remember me still,

my eyes are heavy and

my thoughts are full.

and you're lives are still beautiful.

and mine is bland

and bitter-sweet.

i'm sorry but i'm in this weird place 

between body and mind

like a fire-belly frog

in a lily filled pond

choosing

water or land,

and my hearts on fire

but my hands are full.

-and i'm sorry but i'm not coming down.

throwing

stones from a third floor 

apartment window

with a 3-d, 

lifesize,

cardboard,

cut-out of john wayne 

to hold my hand and keep me company.

calling cats 

with whistles and bells

but now i'm passed out 

in a double-tree lobby 

with my hands down my pants 

and a flask half full

whisky in my pocket.

and john whispers in my ear,

"everything is still

and will be 

and you will see god

in the reflection of the oak trees 

in lake roosevelt"

and i've got a wooden spoon

engraved in some sort of 

calligraphic writing

that says,

"find your peace among

the lilies of the field 

and find your love 

in the dirt and leaves of the coming spring."

and when my eyes are dried

and opened wide

i'll find a step-stool

to get to your level

because i can't find 

solid ground...

it's

days like today.
when everything is beautiful.
when i can't read you.
when i can't tell what you're thinking.
and my mind is racing
and i have to do everything right.
and i worryworryworry until my brain is sore.
it's days like today.
when everything is planned to go perfect
then goes better
and i still smoke my cigarettes until the filter burns.
and until my poor fingers turn brown.
and until they blister and pop.
and i just want everything to work out
and i just want you to be okay.
and i just want to be okay.

we are

the dead people,
floating logs in a dried up river bed.
but you,
you are the sun.
you are the moon.
you are the breath on the back of my neck.
and somedays i feel like falling asleep
in a stack of hay
and other days i feel like the 7 year-old third grader
blowing kisses to disinterested girls
in the back of an elementary school classroom.
and so lonely was the ballad of sad songs for so long
but no more! no more.
i used to think it was a beautiful thing.
but no more no more.

i think

we've got a good thing going here.

broken-backed tuesday mornings,

a handful of rice and cloudy vision.

and dreams that linger in the back of your eyes.

goodnight love.

goodnightgoodnight.

somedays,

you realize
no one you love knows your name.
and it's really really sad.

love,

the lord has left us

to tie knots in our hair

and make a mess of the bed.

to cry ourselves to sleep 

and fall madly.

to walk alone,

down an empty hill at 

2:37 in the morning

and still be smiling.

the lord has left us

sitting on our thumbs

penniless&tired

and kissing and smiling

with only the glow of the

television to see your eyes.

the lord has left us,

drowning, floating,

laughing, fucking,

fucking tired

and i'm glad

andi'mhappyagainforthefirsttimeinmonths.

I.

i can't fucking see straight.
and i'm confused and fucked.
and i know it's too late.
and god-damn
sometimes this feels too good
to be true.
and sometimes this feels
like drowning.
and sometimes this feels
like breathing
but our fingers interlock like
we're scared to be alone
and we're just
frightened children and you're just alone.
and we're just
frightened children and you'd give anything
not to be alone.
and maybe it's too late to sing hallelujah and
fight my demons
but we find beauty in the cracks in the pavement
and we find shelter in the smallest of these.