Wave

Midtown streets are flooded with passerbys
Trying to get somewhere at a quarter to five
I know.. that it's home

Trying to fill that juicy center in the void of their heart
Hoping that they catch something that lasts after dark
They know it's home

Call me, call me on the telephone, ring ring
Telepath, a telegraph that you're listening
Listen to me

Feeling the weight of the traffic south of here
Destroying the sympathy that always seemed so near
I know.. that it's home

Living above the rest, give it a rest why don't you?
Every girl's dreaming of that one knee instead of you
They know it's home
Blueprint in a poem

Call me, call me on the telephone, ring ring
Telepath, a telegraph that you're listening
Listen to me

There's nothing to regret
Only these days to forget

Take It Slow

Running the reds on Liberty Avenue
Wondering what would happen
If we had never stopped to ask it
but we did
and now we're so far apart

Feeling guilt breathing down my neck
It's true, we're divided
This wasn't a good idea
But it is
and now we're so far apart

Holding on to words that are slipping through my hands
Many a night spent alone by the river blues
Listening to a melody drift through my head
A song that sounds a lot like you

Remember When

The street lamps are leading us home
An orange glow filled with beckoning
I barely know who you are
Or what you do with your time

--

That soft mandarin glow kissed her cheeks as her head rested against the rear window of the cab. Her eyes were scanning, grabbing and letting go of the incandescent windows sweeping by. The lines on the road skipped by under the wheels and the pedestrians were whisked away into the background like TV noise with a personality. The traffic broke down as though she personally was shooting the gap. Rain drops patiently ran their races down the outside of the window, broadcasting their results in an outline on her lips.

Black

Sometimes I wonder who you are,
I don't think I ever knew who you were
Another boy not yet a decent man
someone people don't understand.

They all said you wouldn't get far
I don't think they ever knew who you were
Forging broken hearts and mending broken hands
Someone people don't understand

A pale face now painted white
Giving up on non believers
Sewing together a fragile life
Made up of constant fever

This is a revelation of a boy

Lost Angeles

She's not alone
She's not alone

I'm definitely not the wisest

With no ideas in the slightest
Of how I'll ever deal with you (you're not alone)

The parked car of my desires
Watching words like your tripwires
As if I'll get my hands on you (you're not alone)

Here today, now gone tomorrow
Here returning your time borrowed
Red lining your lips like a stop light
Telling me, "Don't pass on the left"

She's close to whoever's close to her,

A bombshell with a short fuse for cute

A gal with a middle name made of danger,

Custom tailored with a bit lip just for you

Boots made of suede treading broken bones

She's not alone, she's not alone.

I see that you're spoken for
Newspapers based on the penned lore
Second headings focused on you (you're not alone)

Pulling strings, well I imagine
Just a hobby, satisfaction
Are Broadway's lights lit for you? (you're not alone)

My life belongs on loop on the 80's silver screen
A lesson to those who wear their hearts on their sleeve
Boys standing in the rain, ruining their paper crowns
They're getting up twice as hard as they're being put down

Gone Starfishing

This time I'm aiming to speak English
No more waiting for the dawn of your arrival
Getting the words out there at once
I'm banking that I can make you smile

When the time finally comes,
I'll be leaning against the same theater wall
With the majestic lettering of my signature
Will I be there to catch you if you fall?

I'll just take a breathe, inhaling what you have to say
Trying to get away from our ambiguous first date

Who will I have to face?
To take you out to coffee?
Even though it's not your favorite
I know I'll find something in common

Hey there Ms. Take Her or Leaver, what do you say?
Can I have a chance to hang on your words?
Like a star out of orbit, our lips touching sherbet
My heart runs on panic, ain't that romantic?
Ain't that romantic?
Ain't that romantic?

I'll hold you like our conversations
Scraps of sentences drip from my mouth
I'll give you help when you need a hand
And you'll my anchor when I'm in the clouds

I've got nothing more to offer than myself
Lost a chance at a renewed glory
Just a boy falling into Twilight Zones
Where I'm far from one and only


Hey there Ms. Take Her or Leaver, what do you say?
Can I have a chance to hang on your words?

My heart's fueled by your chase, both our fish ran away
Ain't that romantic?
Ain't that romantic?

In the Rain

There's a certain kind of holding on
Where I'm holding my breathe
Seeing what your next move is
And if it's worth the threat

Is it worth the holding back?
The unconscious bit of waiting
Seeing what exactly lies ahead
And if it's degrading

How many roads must this girl walk down
Before we can eliminate this broken frown?
The wet pavement, the reflection of her lament
She's got no one to dance with in the rain

I wanted you to hold me even closer
But there's no point in the end
With the result always the same
Seeing this same scene try to mend

Am I that damaged record,
Best only for the sense of display
Dressed up for the glass case
Never to be put down and played

There's a certain kind of holding on
Where the rain falls down around us
Where the troubles can't touch us
Keeping  calm while the world falls down

Dorothy

Dorothy, today
Today, she went away
Gone from me today
The skies still hanging gray

Headline were smudged
The clouds reigning above
Her crooked smile
That I've always loved

She was taken away
A wicked allusion
She was taken away
Though I never had her

Her rose cheeks permanently blushed
Her eyes filled with a certain kind of lust

She was taken away..

Day-glo

She's got Day-Glo hair
and loves sunflower seeds
But I think she thinks
She's too cool for me
All she does is sit there quietly
Does she ever think of me?

Why would she, why would she?
I'm not her type.
My hair's cut short
and my pants aren't tight

Well why would she, why would she?
I couldn't tell
To her parents she's an angel
But where's her rebel yell?

Her life's made up of
Verses and melodies
But I see she sees
Another free feeling
All she does mumble half-heartedly
Does she ever speak of me?

Welcome Back

Have you ever felt the end?

Creeping on you like a tiger

Making its last kill?

Have you ever broken down?

Dragged out until your skin

Felt like fresh road kill?

Well now you know

The end is not quite so far away

As it makes its way through my bones

The lightning veins in my face

Strike only to remind me that I'm alone

So welcome back

Welcome back to my head

Make sure you feel at home

You sure as hell might as well

Put your feet on the furniture

Like you fucking own the place

Why'd you land when you finally fell?

Well now you know

That black hole in your stomach

Hungry for the dripping of your heart,

For who you had to pick

While mine sat in apathy for its kick start

So welcome back

Driver Tonight

Here's a song I used to sing with my dad
I'm singing now with a girl with a flower for a name
Watching her lay on the carpet, in for the night
Christmas lights lining the room in May

There's a vague scent since the years before
A pheromone trail that directed me nowhere
I sulked on over to a city made of twilight
Just a poor ol' mitty riding on a lucky mare

I can't stand, I can't listen
I can't remember your words of wisdom
It's been a long time since I saw you as a driver
As I sat in the front seat, born not a beggar

The neon is never all I need
Steel town blood is all I'll bleed
A flaneur with good taste in friends
Will you be my driver tonight?

Another city block I've never walked down
Still familiar to the paragon lurching in my head

I still see your faces on every lonely passerby
Ripping part of my heart out for having been misled


I can't stand, I can't listen
I can't remember your words of wisdom
It's been a long time since I saw you as a driver
As I sat in the front seat, born not a beggar

The neon is never all I need
Steel town blood is all I'll bleed
A flaneur with good taste in friends
Will you be my driver tonight?


Here's a song I used to sing with my dad
I'm singing now with a girl with a flower for a name
Watching her lay on the carpet, in for the night
Christmas lights lining the room in May

Apollo

The hours are slowly ticking by

Where the days are full of shame

Sitting on the pavement of my life

Should I've forgotten your name?

Like the stars on Orion's Belt

We're trapped by our history

Even when we're long gone

And masqueraded by mystery

I can't let you go and I can't keep you around

When I see your face, I know that I've let you down

I couldn't hold you tight enough

I wouldn't let you go

We're just falling through the skies

Four amps drawn from where we came

There's no more twinkle in your eyes
While you fan your dying flames

You don't ever say what you mean
And you never mean what you say
This paper crane is drowning
In your manufactured claims

I can't let you go and I can't keep you around

When I see your face, I know that he's let you down

I couldn't hold you tight enough

I wouldn't let you go

Letting Go

I need you like I need a hole in my head
For all those times where I'd be better off dead
Love is your prison
Telling you what to think and who you can think of

As the days become your nightmares
And your nights as clear as day
Sipping on your sanity
Holding his hand like it's the way

He's dragging you down tonight
The tunnel is losing its light
Your anxiety is starting to show
So you better hold on before I let go
Before I let go

I'm an expert at blowing you out of proportion
Without you, I thought my life was full of distortion
But now, you're lying, crying on the floor
Telling me about how he doesn't care any more

As the days become your nightmares
And your nights as clear as day
Sipping on your sanity
Holding his hand like it's the way

He's dragging you down tonight
The tunnel is losing its light
Your anxiety is starting to show
So you better hold on before I let go
Before I let go

Sipping on your sanity
While you're holding his hand like it's the way
Out of your troubles
Out of your mind

I'm a subject of phases
A victim of mazes
I'll never learn not to try

I can't give you the benefit of knowing
You know exactly how I feel

He's dragging you down tonight
The tunnel is losing its light
Your anxiety is starting to show
So you better hold on before I let go
Before I let go

Danielle

Danielle, Danielle
What are we gonna do?
There's gotta be
More to me and you

Even though I know
We're not a pair in the slightest
Hell if I know
what we'd be if  we tried it

You have your high school sweet heart
And you're homecoming queen
You have your whole life
and as for myself, I have me

You live right down the hall
It seems like we get along
We traded smiles and asked how we were
But more than our names we'll never learn

Supposed to Be

Once too many times,
I've fallen asleep with you on my mind
Wondering who you're with
If my secret's out, if I'm closing in

And now I realize
That's a dream that's just another lie
'cause these things don't exist
This roundabout, this stupid grin

Your words bring me up and
strike me down
There's no one else I'd rather have
Than you right now

Because you're the best chapter of my story
Where in the end, there was just you and me
I'll rewrite the part where we're both adoring
Because that's the way it was supposed to be

Then there's that one guy
Who I'll always keep in the back of my mind
Because I know who you're with
So count me out since I'm wearing thin


Your words bring me up and
strike me down
Don't expect to find me
When you come around


Because you're the best chapter of my story
Where in the end, there was just you and me
And I'll write the part where we're both adoring
Because that's the way it's supposed to be

I've lost a few pages, and I account that to me
I'd rather not read them as part of our history
These fairy tales are just a big misunderstanding
Because of my stupid thoughts of where we're landing

What's There to Be Sorry About?

Aw come on.
I've made a horrible mistake.
This one was a doozy.
I mean, I've had some bad ideas in the past, but this...
this tops the list of recent things.
Probably because it's recent.

I feel like I should apologize,
but I didn't do anything wrong.
I didn't really. Perfectly fine.
Guilty conscious, I suppose.

It had good intentions I swear.
It was a good idea in theory,
but then again
The best ones are.

Of course, the execution went better than expected
I mean, it was pretty spot on.
Pretty close. Close enough.
Too close.
Pretty sure... yeah.

Hindsight is 20/20 and well, yeah.
It wasn't really a good idea.

What is an idea anyway?
I suppose it's really an abstract concept.
Light, dark, fast, slow
up high, down low, cello

All that jazz.

Yet at the same time, I'm not so sure.
First steps.
Baby steps.
Though I skipped to trying to walk.
And really, I don't know where I come up with this.
My logical is mute, as in, not sound.

This is more of a rant than anything
But it is well needed.

Weeks to Come

Are you happy there
Sitting alone on that bench
Crying over something
that your boyfriend said?

I'd feel sorry if it was the first time
But it's just the first time this week
The first of weeks to come

He whispered the same things into her ear
She had them memorized
like a squadron's orders

She talked about things he didn't want to hear
He stood while she lied
On honor's border


Are you happy there
Sitting alone on that bench
Crying over something
that your boyfriend said?

I'd feel sorry if it was the first time
But it's just the first time this week
The first of weeks to come

Everyone's too busy saving themselves
While watching your life
Dissolve into fever

They've got their TVs tuned to you
But reunions don't feel right
Because he'd "never leave her"


I'd feel sorry if it was the first time
But it's just the first time this week
The first of weeks to come

Good luck leaving this Steel Town
Behind your family's iron bars
Bar hopping bands
And a family man
See if you can catch what's going around

Title Card

I'm sorry.

I can't say it even though you know it and I know it.
I can't do anything about this.
I am that alert you're talking about.
I have to be.
Ever since I stumbled upon that  something that I read aloud and you snatched from my hand.

It's that imaginary tension that I don't feel that's hurting me.
If anything, I have to thank you. I have to say that you don't deserve this.
I have to say these things, but I can't.

It's that tunnel we've never gone through.
It's that path we've never thought about walking.

I have to, but I don't want to.
We have all these plans that will go on.
You'll make sure of that.
I'll pretend that they were going to anyway.

On the other hand, this could all be a misunderstanding.
In which case, this is irrelevant.

That way that you put the words together like bricks.
With your hurt, the mortar.

I'm sorry.

I can't say there's nothing I can do.
So I won't.

It's not a choice. It's just that things just don't work out.
I've been trying to get myself to understand that forever.
I'm still stuck on it.

I'm still stuck in that same rut that you're still tripping on.
I know it. I've met it, introduced myself, and made myself at home.

Because I know what lingering is.
I just don't know how to deal with it.

This feeling is the worst kind of roommate.

It'd be so easy to unload and make a dilemma.
"Listen here: here's your ultimatum"

I've been meaning to say that for several years to many people.
But only a Sith deals in absolutes.

Call me evil, but I absolutely think you're one of the best people I've ever met.

Sweet

I thought she loved me
But I was another customer
Waiting in line
Waiting for her smile

She's needing the bread
kneading the attention
Served on a plate
It's icing on the cake

You're the one I wanna have fun with
You're the one that I wanna be with
Because you make all the guys drool
When you start walking through

Because jealousy is for those who don't have you

You look the other way
Since I'm just another customer
The cup to your cake
Even though it's too late

The edible confetti lays on top
The colored poison to your love
Oh sweet baker, let me go

Back Pocket

The vine-like creature held its green hands away from the young boy, not much older than seven. His small round face was illuminated in an emerald light, peeking through the branch fingertips of the creature. The eyes of the child were wide and his mouth slightly open, allowing his breath to speed up just a bit as the creature moved in front of him. Although to some this soul of nature would be a monster, one that chases them down in nightmares and lurks in the shadowy underbelly of a mattress, the boy was only filled with wonderment.

Within the creature's palms was a gem. This gem was said to have held the secrets of life, the mystery of cell organization and the manipulation of time.

This gem was not the judgmental, flawed God the boy had learned from his parents and from his neighbors. This God was everything. It was powerful. It was moving. It did not differentiate between good and evil. This God was Nature, and it was its daughters: Evolution and Chaos. This God was the karma and the balance, the seemingly random events that collided to create this single, unique moment in time. A moment too quick to realize, but one with so much information that one could not possibly analyze.

Green light continued to pour into the world from the vine creature's hands, and she was not holding it back as carefully as before, recognizing the innocence in the boy's mannerisms. The secret would do no harm to a boy yet would drive a man mad. The wise would see everything they needed to see, yet they could not possibly understand it without the wisdom of a child.

Finally, the vines unraveled and the organic fingertips revealed the gem to the boy, now kneeling in front of Nature. The gem was but a rock, lightly chipped and with little history to be seen. It had rough edges, yet with one clear side.

Within this side, the boy saw something.

In this side, the boy saw himself.

No Place Like Yesterday

I have some words on the page
But I have nothing left to say
It's as if all of my meaning
Has gotten up and gone away

There's a chance I'll back down
That I won't live to see the sun
My best friend is all I've got
Yet I wanna click my heels and run

There's no place like yesterday
Where there are no motions to go through
You pick and choose, you win and lose
You crash into the bitter deep
There's no feeling like knowing
There's no place like yesterday

I always say that it's too late
Even when I haven't made a mistake
It's always cloudy with a chance of rain
And keeping dry is another fantasy

There's no place like yesterday

Verdict

If I laid in that bed, organically dependent on some unpronounceable liquid, I don't know what color I would want the walls.

You often see a pale yellow. Perhaps with a subtle ornate pattern.
Faded yellow. A stained white.

To me, this is so stereotypical of the end. A shotty system that allowed me to finish here. Everyday I'd wake up surprised and thankful, only to see those yellow walls and remember that everyday will be like that for the rest of what I would presume to be a short life. I would stay awake all day and think about it, distracting myself with petty things in a desperate attempt not to regret.

White walls would be clean. Words like sterile and clean would flash through my mind. Perhaps I would wake up thinking that it already was the end. Then again, I would wake up and realize that this was too artificial. The clouds would never be this pure. The noise I see would only exist in the fluid of my eyes.

Maybe royal blue, something that lets me know that I'm still here. Something that would calm me down. Maybe I would remember you and expect you to walk through that door as if things were just like yesterday. I don't know what I would expect, really. Maybe an old friend, maybe someone that is no longer with me. I don't know want to think about that inevitable day. It scares me. It pulls at me, reminding me to cherish what is now. This is now.

It makes me want to be adventurous, but instead I sit and stare. I day dream all day in a way that I despise and love. In here, anything can happen. I am not the same man every day. I am not the line drawn in the sand. I am that something. Anything could happen. I could stare into eyes that show no disgust, no apologies. I would listen for a voice that brings me back. I would lay down with a body that is accepting.

On the other hand, that isn't happening at all.

I am not staring into those eyes, listening to that voice, lying with that body.

I am here.

Staring at the royal blue.

Yes.

Your Face

"Have fun with your face."

Really?

I could have said anything. Anything else.
Y'know. "Have a good day." "Good luck with your stuff."
Y'know. The classic lines.

But no. I had to say that ridiculous line like some sort of homage to our conversation. I mean, the joke had run its course. Here I was beating a dead horse but worse. I'm pretty sure I shot that horse, dragged it out back, and took a baseball bat to its children like I was dusting a carpet. At least, that's how I imagined it.

I complimented her glasses.

Oh hey, I like your glasses.
Thanks!
Yeah, they really bring out your... your...

I wanted to say intelligence, but I didn't want to insinuate that she looked dumb otherwise. No girl wants to hear that. Well, unless that's what they're going for.

So she said, "Face".

"Yes, yes. Your face. They really bring out your face."

Good job.

"I mean, your face is really what is being accented here. 'Hey, what's up? Love the face'"

Right, right. Lay on the funny.

"Your face just accents the rest of the package really. The icing on the cake."

Great. Done with the joke. Proceed to talking about class and the like. Schedule some sort of lunch date or something. Group lunch, of course. Then it's time to go our separate ways.

"Hey, have fun with your face!"

My palm hit my face so hard. Mentally of course. Gotta look smooth.

Well, as smooth as I could in this moment.

Old Dog

How do I know, if I could ever trust you?
Even if I know, I never really knew you

You're such a real ghost, hanging in the distance
A face with an unrealistic name,
But perhaps just too real to me

Not afraid of you the most, hope you work on persistence
A life beyond your drive
But perhaps just personality

You don't know me
Though you've heard about me, I bet
You don't know me
Though you've learned about me, unless

You weren't really paying attention
To your home, what was really going on
In front of your eyes

Have you worked it out?
(She doesn't deserve it)
Don't try to crawl out
(She doesn't deserve it)

Just tilt your head down
And figure this out

Zen Calendar

They say it's the end,
But how would I ever know?
How would I ever know?

I've got no hand to lend
But would they ever know?
How would they ever know?

It's shortness of breathe
Shortness of you
That keeps me unbalanced
Thrown off by you

I've lost my rhythm,
Can I borrow yours?
As the sun sets
And your body allures

Permanent tilted smiling
Caught off guard like dry lightning

I wonder if they'd ever know
Or if they'd even have to
Please not another wake up
It's too painful just to go through

Tramp Stamp (Is That Too Harsh?)

Dear "Sir" in quotations
Hello and salutations
It's a little repetitive
but I don't care

I know that you've been looking
But sorry, we're not cooking
It's just a recipe
Not meant to be

Dear Girl Across the Nation
I see that you're mistaken
For someone who's elated
But I don't care

I know that I've been looking
And I know that you're not working
Miss Number 9
Is all you'll be to me

History that I've made up
Is the problem child of
A Cheerleader, a geek,
and a rumor that was leaked

We will never try to start over
You are set in your ways to learn
A size zero and a half
Now your pictures make me laugh

Dear "Miss" in quotations
Hello and salutations
6 years later still
and I don't care

Stuck up in the middle
Ever since you were little
What did I ever imagine
Would evolve from you and me in the end?

Distress Alert

There's the green light
Next to the telephone
Ready for you
To pick it up

You act like you're all alone

Out during night
A long away from home
Ready for you
to pick it up

You act like you're all alone

There's a reason
for every bit of effort
As you clench your teeth, there's another

There's a reason
You have no regrets tonight
You still can't forget together forever

Hanging Around

“He's gonna do it!”
“He's gonna jump!”

At 5:37 PM, a man was standing on the ledge of a building that happened to be a hotel. Presumably, he rented a room before making his way up to room 915, opening the freshly streaked window, and climbing out on the ledge using the convenient balcony. This spectacle caused a crowd of people to gather around below in addition to the numerous strobe lights of emergency vehicles that appeared much more palliative than preventive. As if traffic was bad enough during rush hour.

Funnily enough, earlier that day, that very same man wasn't too worried about his life and how long it would last. As usual, he began his hour long commute to work. He lived outside the city in the safety of the suburbs, a place where he was born and raised and where his father was born and raised, etc. He definitely wasn't a big city boy, but he had little choice given his circumstance. Living on his own and attempting to pay the bills on an art degree would be nearly impossible, even though he knew his artwork had a permanent residence in his mother's home (“So proud of you! So proud!”).

The man wasn't one for presentations, but his boss insisted he lead this one. After all, what better use for an art degree than the creation of infinite charts and graphs plotting the progress of some office supply company? His daily commute was a little less lonely, however, what with the pieces of cardboard in the passenger seat to keep him company. He needed someone to talk to, especially this morning. Between getting out of bed late and destroying his coffee with creamer, he was falling behind in his schedule. He was late and the traffic lights were not helping him. They swung back and forth with an embarrassed red emitting from them as if they were sorry about it and there was nothing they could do about it. He took a sip from his coffee between the stop and go. Green light. Red light. Green light. Red light. The man took his eyes away for a second to take another sip when the car behind him honked, causing him to fumble his thermos up and down the dashboard. He saved it, but not before turning quarter profits into a caffeine loaded Niagara Falls.

That's it. He was done with this for now. The car was pulled over into the parking lot of the nearest bar and the man called to let his boss know that due to an emergency, he wouldn't be able to make it to the presentation and to go on without him. Slam the door. Walk inside. Sit down at the front. He had this plan all figured out.

What he didn't have figured out was a man. Well, he was less a man and more of a demon. Perhaps more like a reaper of sorts than a demon. He didn't do much of the haunting or possessing. He did, however, do a little of soul repossessing, taking back a soul to an afterward after they were done here. With the world getting a little more full everyday, the pressure was on for him and the death figure needed all the help he could get. Having spotted Potential Suicide Man at the bar, he took the stool next to him. The man was quick to start up a conversation, letting him know of his current issue of the day. Death quickly let him know of his current issue and gave him a hotel key to a room on the 9th floor (great view, but lacked decent room service). After weighing the pros and cons, the man took the key and drove over to the hotel.

Death was right about one thing: the room did have a decent view. The pavement didn't look so hard from up there. Despite the circumstances, the man had a calm disposition and only muttered phrases under his breath (“Oh, what a great view from up here. Oh, what many lights there are down there. Better for the attention I suppose”). He stayed up there for at least twenty minutes. Even the optimists were starting to get bored.

“Woah, woah, hold up!” The hotel room door opened and the man peaked through the balcony window only to see Death walking towards him. “Listen, I know what I said earlier, but that street would look a lot better without you fused to it. The thing is, we're overbooked for the next few weeks. Go back to your life, enjoy it. Don't fret about those crazy graphs. Besides, if I need more people, I'll just work the suicide hotline or something. Christmas is coming up soon. Tis the season to be lonely.” Somehow, the skeleton sighed. “Go back home,” he said, and left the room with the man still on the ledge.

Autobiography

Your head's so black and blue
From your thoughts,
They've got nothing on you

Your remains act so new
Ask your mom
They've got nothing on you

Is there a reason behind this spider web?
Where the man is caught, well more or less.
A difference not seen by many
Other than yourself

It's haunting your dreams
And brightening your nightmares
Nowhere to run away
No one left to care

The numbers, 1 or 2
Not a lot
They've got nothing on you

Think, my dear sir, before you speak
Look, my dear sir, before you leap

They've got nothing on you.

Not yet, anyway.

Welcome to Another Friday
Where you look forward to another Friday
Waiting for that layoff
So you have all day to think

About you-know-who
Who's holding you back
Yet pushing you through another day
Because what choice do you have?

Nostalgia is Sticky

I'm sure all the proms are the same
The same guys hanging on to dear life
At least what they consider it to be
The same girls hanging on to their seams

At least what they hoped it would be.

There's another boy in the parking lot
Walking with his brother to the event
Money organized and glasses tilted down
A hop, skip, and a jump away
From letting go.

At least what they consider it to be

There's a reason why we're so removed
From that moment that we held on to
Waving hello to the camera and goodbye
to the last few moments of control

Here's to that last look in your eyes
The gray that filled the room
That unconscious understanding
A picture of me waving around

I'd take a drink, but I'd spit it up
A song, a rhythm I can't quite grip

A remedy for this melody
A reason to believe
That it all gets better in the end
Where there's no other friend

Other than the idea of that night

My God, I was so nervous,
But the air felt so right

And I remember looking out and pretending
There was nothing in the way

All Wrong

I lay down and listen
to the silence in my head
You're keeping me awake
more often than I intended

I'm trying not to look back
What am I saving it for?
Is it the answer to my problems
or the doorway unto more?

Got something, can't help it
Because I'm love stupid

I'm not even sure that
that's the right word anymore

Am I Alright?

Chances are that I'll live
To see the next tomorrow
But it's always the same when
I know you're the variable

Am I Alright?

Why the Now?

My knuckles are bleeding through.
Finally.
There's a certain taste in the air.
But I'm not sure what it is.
A little salty, a little fear,
a little "let me show you how to do it"

I need your help.
I need you to pick me up.
And put me back down in the right spot.

Pull me away from the toys section.
Get me away from the cereal with the prize inside.

It looks so great, what with the colors and features and everything.

For once, I need something.
I need some sort of guiding question.

I need a prompt, an autobiographical map.

I guess my question for myself is "Why now?"
"Why at this point do you feel out of sync?"

The short answer is a cliche:
I'm so close, yet far away.

The long answer is, well, just that.

I guess you just had to be there.

So before one jumps to conclusions,
No matter where you jump,
I'm already trying to hard wire the landing.

I'm usually on the wrong spot.
Can you help?

Art

There it was again.

The thin yet thick, the black yet white, the hard yet smooth image composed upon that canvas. It appeared almost isolated behind the glass of the corner gallery. The place was juxtaposed between the old and the shine with half facing the main street that was populated by many. Some on their way to work, others to home. The doors opened onto a side street where few ventured unless they had errands that required that path. It wasn't dirty, just unknown; it contained what people would imagine any city street to have: wrappers and puddles that appeared to form from nothing, an Asian restaurant that served the best dumplings that no one knew about, sewer grates and vagabonds.

But none of this was important to the man walking by that day. He was there by mishap, waking up to his car broken into, the windows shattered and the tires slashed. His CD collection was missing as well as his sense of security. He hadn't taken public transportation in years and wasn't about to start now. There were no short cuts he was aware of, but he attempted to shimmy his way into every alley he could, huffing and coughing from the walking, the other extreme to his indolent life style.

He finally came to a rest next to the gallery. Putting his briefcase down and leaning against a brick wall that would surely rub off onto his ironed white shirt. He didn't care at this point. Starting tomorrow, he would suck it up and take the bus, making sure he did his route research. The man looked up into the windows of the gallery.

More of the same, he thought.

However, when regained whatever will to go on, he had to stop when a certain piece of art demanded his attention. The man wasn't one to assign personalities to paintings. After all, he was a very logical man. Works of art didn't necessarily "speak" to him, just as his car was a vehicle and nothing more, but he reconsidered for a split second as this painting seemed to stare at him.

-

The next day he found himself in the same spot, still huffing and catching his latte breath. Still looking at that painting. He didn't dare go in, but instead looked at the painting from the outside, separated by a sheet of glass that acted like so much more. This depiction of nature somehow moved something inside of him, jump starting his heart in a way that hadn't been done in quite some time.

The next day was the same, and the next, and the day after that, and so forth.

One day the painting was not there. Where one might fall to their knees in the way one loses meaning in their life, the man did not panic. It wasn't that the painting didn't capture him enough for him to purchase it and hang it in his living room. It moved him so much that couldn't purchase it. He could only hope that the one who did buy it meant that much to them. He just wished that it wasn't sheltered and hidden from the world, but this was a part of life. Sometimes the meaning behind this canvas was that life goes on.

The empty section in the gallery that once contained his motivation suddenly gave him a new realization: he was not out of breath anymore.

Skye

I'm not quite sure where she is now.

I haven't thought about her in a while, and I'm not sure how she's doing. Last time we spoke personally, we were sitting in her room and I was sitting on the floor running my hand through her room's carpet. She was sitting in front of her computer playing with sticky notes. We were listening to some blue grass. Earlier, she had her record player running with all sorts of oldies echoing throughout her attic room.

She was thinking about Sarah Lawrence for the next four years. It was in New York, as well as being a bit expensive. In the end, she chose not to go.

We promised to stay in touch. Of course we didn't.

Her house was full of scattered memories. I don't remember her house in general, just the rooms where I remember specific events.

The room where we would watch cult films.
The room where we pretended to be a band and played slow circus music.
The room where I looked at her senior pictures and her parents said to take one because they had too many.

I'm not sure exactly what I remember.

I still have her number, but I don't think I'll ever call it.
Of course, when I decide to, it will no longer be in service.

We haven't spoken in a while, and it'll probably remain that way until a while turns into a life time.

Welcome to Today

It's so funny
Kinda funny
How my friends are starting to get married

Out of school
No job or money
A plot twist on an old wive's tale about dairy

She still fits her dress
Too young to reminisce
I got problems of my own

Card in the spokes
Home away from home
A hometown hero on his own

It's true or fake
Are you too late?
I never know if you're alone

Welcome to today

She's got a baby
On the way
And I'm not sure if they think they're ready

They're still running
They're still running
Do you think the ring's flavored or is it me?

Don't think any less
Of the bride. Confess
that she's outta control

Card in the spokes
Home away from home
A hometown hero on his own

It's true or fake
Are you too late?
I never know if you're alone

Welcome to today

Their pictures
Have no smiles
Just denial, baby

Their future
Looks so bright, oh
Not senile lately.