30 December, 2012

Light Me

How can you have stuck a song
That you've never heard before?
How can you fail even when
You've given it your all?
Why is it that a thought can
Slip and drip through your fingers?
I'm catching water but my
Thirst won't be sated,
My hunger not abated.
Haha... we're not immortal,
We're already dead!
Can you bury me?
Can you hide me from the world,
So that I might rise again?-
A different life, a stronger body,
A whole new set of rules!
Push me down, pick me up,
Frame me, blame me,
Humiliate and shame me.
Leave me here, send me there,
Fight me, bite me,
Kerosene and light me.
Waiting, always waiting-
Like I said, I have to breathe!
I can't stay dependent-
Who can I depend on?
It is all just an extent,
An extension of tense.
Keep it flowing,
What else to do?
Can't give up, not ever,
Not for anything.
Live and breathe, laugh and die.
Wake and sleep, fall and try.

20 December, 2012

An Off Night?

I suppose "interesting" will do:
I can't quite call it "bad",
But perhaps "good" is too much of a stretch.
Where is the line, though,
Between asleep and awake?
What is pure subconscious dream,
And what is only longing?
Oh Lord, can I truly handle this?
This horrid taunting as I lay defenseless,
This violent imagery that wakes me shaking,
Knees up, eyes wide, breath caught...
Soaked and sweaty and shattered.
Dear God, what am I doing?
Am I living and breathing,
Am I existing and changing?
Could I be losing it all,
Or perhaps have I already?
I slide around in this pit of mud,
The cold and wet my only company,
Holding on to the spark of sunshine
That sears my skin and blinds my vision,
Yet it's all that I have.
I own nothing,
Not the clothes on my back nor
The drenched earth that encompasses me.
I can't be sleeping late like this-
I can't subject myself to such punishment.
Can I write it away insignificantly
As just an off night?
I do believe it's something more,
My desperate longing that's barely even secret.
I'm sure everyone knows, although not to what extent.

16 December, 2012

An Off Day

I just feel like taking
My pink-painted fingernails
And shoving them deep into
My eye sockets and shredding
Every bit of flesh they find.
Why does my source of joy
Also fill me with dreaded hate?
I can feel it pulling, tugging,
Pushing everything away;
This is why I'm broken.
This, and everything else.
I call it just an off day,
Shrug and move along.
But meaning has shifted
In every little detail of my day.
The happy times make me question.
A simple color reminds me.
Something I once respected,
Now leaves me filled with disgust.
The past it may be,
But it affects the present.
I find myself keeping out an eye,
One ear pricked,
Auto-tuned to tidbits,
However hard I try to
Block it all out.
Accepted, yes, but I can't
Erase everything from my mind.
I catch myself shaking my head,
As if clearing the cobwebs,
But it alters naught.
The subconscious dream that now
Taunts my waking hours
Is one of my most fearful.
The one where I lose control.
In which I am brought back
By a most unlikely stimulant.
I've been doing better-
At least, until a few days ago.
Today I'm attacked on all sides:
This song, that band-
Even this, my music, my reprieve,
Is forever scarred.
A laugh echoes in my ears,
Refusing to leave me in peace.
Every close of the eyes
Leaves one image to vex me.
Can I even sleep tonight?
Do I even want to?
But to hide in the dark and quiet,
That sounds nice.
If I can shut everything out.
If I can end my off day.

08 December, 2012

For What It's Worth

Maybe maybe maybe
Is this what it's
Supposed to be?
What if what if,
Am I everything
I'm meant to be?
Is this quicksand?
Am I mud?
Is this tangible?
Am I real?
Have I let this go
A bit too easily, perhaps?
I'm wondering now
Whether it happened at all.
I imagine that maybe
Again I only confused
Myself into this thinking...
But when I truly remember,
What I recall is sweet.
A look, a touch, a day.
A dream, a sigh-
Sometimes I'm hit
By what is gone.
So much past,
Yet even more future.
I can't hold on anymore,
To what should have been.
In one outlet only
Can I consider my What if's,
The ones that have me buried.
Ha! To think,
That someone might take
Them a little too seriously.
It's sadly absurd,
But so, admittedly, real.
Is it true, that I
Can be bought?
Not with money, but
With promises?
So many promises,
Kept or forgotten;
Yours, mine, his, hers.
Too many secrets,
That we've all let slip.
I am at fault,
But I don't carry all
Of the blame!
That's only important to me-
No one else cares,
And I've accepted this.
Curiosity still tugs,
But it doesn't even matter.
I don't care to know,
To speak or to ask.
It's not worth it anymore.
Few things are.
The answer isn't worth
The question. The benefit won't
Outweigh the consequence.
It wasn't worth the compromise,
And so I lost it entirely.
That was by my own choice.
Now neither of them
Can see my worth,
And I've come to terms.
Matter, redefined,
Means that I look inside
Myself, and see truth,
And decide what's right.

03 December, 2012


As many times as we've
Been inside this building,
I doubt anyone could
Identify it by this picture.
Only a single color
Even hints at the place
That this once was,
So familiar to me in
My younger years.
This was my playground.
Would you let your child
Play here now, in these ruins?
It has fallen into such
Disrepair, gone to waste,
So that when I visited,
It tugged at my heart
To see what it has become.
See how it has been destroyed?
See, how time and carelessness
Have torn it apart, though
It still stands to hold
My memories in place.
I know these buildings
So well, I could draw
A map to guide you.
Could you? Do you know
What this is? Or, rather,
What it used to be?
Look here, how a new
Generation has left its
Mark, not caring what
This site might have
Represented in the past.
I remember so much here,
So many friends and people,
Teachers and mentors.
Most of all I recall
My mom here,
In this room where she
Spent her days, even
In the summer, for
So little recognition,
For meager earnings
To support her family.
What has happened here?
The walls are literally
Just torn to pieces,
The entire locale
Considered insignificant.
But it still holds significance!
It still stands, stares
At the outside world in defiance,
Declaring, "I am still here!"
And although it has been
Closed off, locked up tight
Against intruders of all kinds,
The outside is still free
For me to roam at leisure,
So that I can be reminded
Of all the minds that walked
Through here, that learned
And grew here, of all the
People that discovered
New things as they trudged,
Often unhappily, through
These now dilapidated
Hallways. And to what gain?
It is now that I ask
Of all my friends:
Do you remember this?
Are your memories fond,
Or sentimental at all?
Do you miss it, or
Are you glad to be gone?
Do you drive right past
And not even realize?
Does it phase you in the
Least, that it lies abandoned,
Sometimes the grass mowed
But otherwise neglected?
Years ago, it was cared
For and tended lovingly.
And now? Now it seems,
Some view it as a blight
On this town. But I see
It for what it is,
A small piece of history
That I could be a part of.
They knew they were
Building something for
The future, but do we?
Is it still Our Place,
Like it was when we
Were children?
When the world was new
And dramatic, when
Everything was life or death-
A simpler time? Perhaps.
I remember the rails that
Were here, when we sat
On the corners and talked
About anything at all,
Just to pass our few minutes
Of time before another
Reality check.
So much has been altered,
Demolished even,
And yet here it remains.
Here, also, is a reminder
That at one time it wasn't
So forlorn and forgotten.
It was a haven to some.
It was a whole world in itself.
It travels through time,
In its own way.
And even though it is cast aside,
So discarded that it doesn't
Even warrant a flagged pole,
I haven't forgotten,
Not in the least.
Little things here and there
Linger on to tell us
Of the activity that used
To exist here. It was
Never ceasing! These buildings
Never rested, they were alive
All year long. They lived
And breathed.
We made music here!
This is where we learned it!
And so many other things,
Even those that weren't
Taught. Even the sign
Still guards over
This ground, not yet
Erased, As a monument
To its repressed life.
Do you remember now?
Or did you ever forget?

01 December, 2012


I could write a book of lyrics
Of songs I won't listen to now,
Of memories I have destroyed.
I could write a song of sadness,
Or draw a line in stone.
I could die from all this crazy,
Be consumed if I let it out,
Be destroyed if I'm not careful.
I could allow these visions
To eat me from the inside,
To rip me on the outside.
I could live in that world,
In the memories and what if's,
In the surrealism of my mind.
I could lose myself deep
In the bottom of my shell,
In a place of maybe.
I could drop my heart,
And it would fall through me.
I could take this picture,
And in it, there'd be blood.
I could break my name-
But I've done that already!
I could take a run, take a leap.
I could sleep my day away,
I could throw up.
I could dwell on the things I've "seen"-
On that place where I was kept
After I snapped-
When I was overrun by the four of them
And they fought each other over me.
I wouldn't even respond!
It wasn't until he came,
And called another name-
Only then did some semblance of reality
Penetrate my being.
Only then did I notice how ragged
I had become. I was them-
Or they were me.
I lost control. I lost myself,
Amid the mix of those four.
They kept rolling through my mind
Like my own private mantra:
The clover, the bluebonnet,
The sweet pea, the rose.
Green, blue, pink, red.
But then he was there,
And for a moment I could function.
For a moment, I was all or none.
But I am so scared, that it might
Happen to me- that it's actually
Possible. Is it?