I love the scent of the inside of your lungs.
And while I picture it clinging to the fleshy walls of your insides,
as it reluctantly races for an escape,
I find myself envious of where it will end up.
Once it makes its way through your mint lips,
it could potentially travel anywhere it pleases.
I scramble to try and collect it all into my own lungs,
taking the deepest of breaths in until I feel lightheaded and see colors.
Breathing you in deep leaves me breathless somehow though.
Hunched over with fatigue and with quiet frustration,
over anyone who's lucky enough to breath in even the slightest of your scent,
I've become numb to sharing the majority of you but not this.
To me they are thieves and I make them out to be scary and forceful.
Like monsters but I fear nothing.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Happy Birthday.
To the woman I've never met but know almost everything about
Enjoy and celebrate, and take plenty of pictures
I'll never look at them, but someone's going to want to remember you
Just as you are right now
Beautiful with pin straight hair caught in the corners of your mint lips
Look beyond the camera and smile big
Focus on the point in the distance and try not to blink
You've been great at it for years, so I'm sure today is no different
Put something on you've been waiting to wear
Make sure he notices, he probably won't on his own
Stand tip-toed, one foot arched more than the other
Show off those legs in the best possible way
Each year on my birthday I blow out my candles to the West
I watch the smoke travel as far as it can go as it settles above me
For a brief moment I panic but then I remember there is no reason
The winds from the Atlantic hardly ever reach your boarder anyway
If you remember tonight though, just as someone clumsily carries a cake your way
Angle yourself to the East, stand facing home, and close your eyes
Make a wish that gives you chills when you think about it coming true
And wait as you feel the wind pick up from behind you and as candle smoke hits your face
Mother Nature has always been a sucker for romantics
Enjoy and celebrate, and take plenty of pictures
I'll never look at them, but someone's going to want to remember you
Just as you are right now
Beautiful with pin straight hair caught in the corners of your mint lips
Look beyond the camera and smile big
Focus on the point in the distance and try not to blink
You've been great at it for years, so I'm sure today is no different
Put something on you've been waiting to wear
Make sure he notices, he probably won't on his own
Stand tip-toed, one foot arched more than the other
Show off those legs in the best possible way
Each year on my birthday I blow out my candles to the West
I watch the smoke travel as far as it can go as it settles above me
For a brief moment I panic but then I remember there is no reason
The winds from the Atlantic hardly ever reach your boarder anyway
If you remember tonight though, just as someone clumsily carries a cake your way
Angle yourself to the East, stand facing home, and close your eyes
Make a wish that gives you chills when you think about it coming true
And wait as you feel the wind pick up from behind you and as candle smoke hits your face
Mother Nature has always been a sucker for romantics
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
If You Were To Write To Me
I'm sorry for holding the flame just close enough for you to constantly feel the heat.
And I'm sorry I slip sometimes and inch even closer to burn you.
I never thought the flame would have stayed lit for this long.
How could I have known?
I remember standing in that blizzard, watching it dim in the wind.
We were as sad as humanly possible while we assumed it would be out by morning.
The snow should have eaten the flame whole.
How could I have known?
A decade's worth of heat and ash and soot rests in our hands, but our fingers never touch.
Our hands have both become callused but mine for different reasons than yours.
The universe was telling you one thing and me another.
How could I have known?
There's this pain that rivals the loss of a family member and I've felt both recently.
It just doesn't seem fair. I know you would take it all away if you could.
I try to let myself understand but it's hard to do so while you've already taken so much.
How could I have known?
After the first few years the hurt became bearable, like it was just another part of life.
You weren't even fueling the fire. You weren't supposed to, I wouldn't let you.
The snow failed, the wind gave up, our hands were a fortress, a castle.
How could I have known?
You were the drawbridge and the walls, and I, the princess safely inside.
You took arrow after arrow, waiting it out while enemies and friends alike tried to lay siege to this castle.
I am sorry, but I am too terrified to scan your body, inside and out, for the marks and wounds that were inevitably my doing.
How could I have known?
And I'm sorry I slip sometimes and inch even closer to burn you.
I never thought the flame would have stayed lit for this long.
How could I have known?
I remember standing in that blizzard, watching it dim in the wind.
We were as sad as humanly possible while we assumed it would be out by morning.
The snow should have eaten the flame whole.
How could I have known?
A decade's worth of heat and ash and soot rests in our hands, but our fingers never touch.
Our hands have both become callused but mine for different reasons than yours.
The universe was telling you one thing and me another.
How could I have known?
There's this pain that rivals the loss of a family member and I've felt both recently.
It just doesn't seem fair. I know you would take it all away if you could.
I try to let myself understand but it's hard to do so while you've already taken so much.
How could I have known?
After the first few years the hurt became bearable, like it was just another part of life.
You weren't even fueling the fire. You weren't supposed to, I wouldn't let you.
The snow failed, the wind gave up, our hands were a fortress, a castle.
How could I have known?
You were the drawbridge and the walls, and I, the princess safely inside.
You took arrow after arrow, waiting it out while enemies and friends alike tried to lay siege to this castle.
I am sorry, but I am too terrified to scan your body, inside and out, for the marks and wounds that were inevitably my doing.
How could I have known?
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Route 353
My car ride home tonight reminded me of you
The perfect temperature, not too hot, and with a breeze to boot
All four windows down, just letting it surround me
My body relaxed and breathing with the tempo
Of some beautiful song playing in the background
If you were here I'd be using your left hand as a cymbal
For my make believe drum set while I play along
To the same song singing us home
I'm driving with cruise control on
Every limb at ease
No need for breaks
Wherever I'm going it's in a straight line
If I were to get into an accident I would certainly survive
The way a drunk driver always lives through a crash
But I'd remain fine for far more romantic reasons
My speed remains steady
My eyes focused
And my lips reaching for the stars above
Your hair would be a mess
Flying recklessly with the wind
I'd love every second of it
While you try to wrangle each piece
As they slip right through your bone-thin fingers
The smoothest road I've ever driven
With the prettiest view I've ever seen
The route I took tonight reminds me of you
The perfect temperature, not too hot, and with a breeze to boot
All four windows down, just letting it surround me
My body relaxed and breathing with the tempo
Of some beautiful song playing in the background
If you were here I'd be using your left hand as a cymbal
For my make believe drum set while I play along
To the same song singing us home
I'm driving with cruise control on
Every limb at ease
No need for breaks
Wherever I'm going it's in a straight line
If I were to get into an accident I would certainly survive
The way a drunk driver always lives through a crash
But I'd remain fine for far more romantic reasons
My speed remains steady
My eyes focused
And my lips reaching for the stars above
Your hair would be a mess
Flying recklessly with the wind
I'd love every second of it
While you try to wrangle each piece
As they slip right through your bone-thin fingers
The smoothest road I've ever driven
With the prettiest view I've ever seen
The route I took tonight reminds me of you
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
This Won't Hurt
Plant your feet and dig them into the dirt
Lower your shoulder and drive it straight into mine
Make me crumble, start on my left side
But I need you to promise that this won't hurt
I need you to lie and say that this won't hurt
Lower your shoulder and drive it straight into mine
Make me crumble, start on my left side
But I need you to promise that this won't hurt
I need you to lie and say that this won't hurt
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Definition: Straight Line
Some years ago,
when I was far braver and much less capable of love
a hook set into my jaw.
Unaware of what it was entirely I tugged at it,
yanked it from here to there without concern.
My curiosity pulled the string attached until taught.
A straight line was in view,
from my jaw to wherever that line was to lead me.
And I would follow along for however long it took.
As time continued on, and the face of the clock laughed into mine,
I thought I knew the definition of a straight line,
the space in between point A and point B.
The line never curved left or right,
but it rose, and it fell,
so effortlessly in the passing winds of others trailing their own lines.
When the sun was perfectly still behind the clouds,
just enough to see her radiate on her own,
I would catch a glimpse of this beautifully slender but fierce figure holding tight the other end.
We waited and held with all our might,
but we became tired, and she became fixated on these sights way beyond me.
And I, without even knowing it, began to look right through her.
We'd never leave each others vision,
but we let our eyes wander as far as they could,
all along knowing we would never catch up to one another.
Older, wiser, and a bit torn at the seams,
we still hold onto that line, that defines a path we could never truly grasp,
in every sense of the word.
There is a love there that hardly fits into a neat and tidy box,
one that, at times, may cross over to other lines,
but one that will never fray and snap under the pressure.
It stretches. Further and more distant but still there.
It is a bond that we have been laying at the feet of our enemies.
And the breadcrumbs, just in case we ever need them to find home.
The tiny, powerful, and truly remarkable vision at the end of my line has never changed,
She taught me some years ago the true definition of a straight line,
And the only thing that will change is the way we'll constantly redefine that definition.
when I was far braver and much less capable of love
a hook set into my jaw.
Unaware of what it was entirely I tugged at it,
yanked it from here to there without concern.
My curiosity pulled the string attached until taught.
A straight line was in view,
from my jaw to wherever that line was to lead me.
And I would follow along for however long it took.
As time continued on, and the face of the clock laughed into mine,
I thought I knew the definition of a straight line,
the space in between point A and point B.
The line never curved left or right,
but it rose, and it fell,
so effortlessly in the passing winds of others trailing their own lines.
When the sun was perfectly still behind the clouds,
just enough to see her radiate on her own,
I would catch a glimpse of this beautifully slender but fierce figure holding tight the other end.
We waited and held with all our might,
but we became tired, and she became fixated on these sights way beyond me.
And I, without even knowing it, began to look right through her.
We'd never leave each others vision,
but we let our eyes wander as far as they could,
all along knowing we would never catch up to one another.
Older, wiser, and a bit torn at the seams,
we still hold onto that line, that defines a path we could never truly grasp,
in every sense of the word.
There is a love there that hardly fits into a neat and tidy box,
one that, at times, may cross over to other lines,
but one that will never fray and snap under the pressure.
It stretches. Further and more distant but still there.
It is a bond that we have been laying at the feet of our enemies.
And the breadcrumbs, just in case we ever need them to find home.
The tiny, powerful, and truly remarkable vision at the end of my line has never changed,
She taught me some years ago the true definition of a straight line,
And the only thing that will change is the way we'll constantly redefine that definition.
Monday, May 13, 2013
In Bed, In the Morning Into the Afternoon
I whispered to my sheets while you slept,
Grab hold of this one, hold on tight.
Gently wrap yourself around her ankles and wrists.
Keep her warm and comfortable.
And I pleaded with my pillows,
Let her sleep in peace,
remind her of nothing outside my bedroom door.
Become an ocean of comfort
that cradles her head into the afternoon.
I cut a deal with the birds outside my window
If you just keep singing through morning,
after the sun has packed its bags for the day,
into the evening, maybe we won't hear our alarm clocks.
The sun owed me a favor from a few years back,
Stretch your rays a bit further this morn.
Thread yourself in between my shades but keep away from her face
As badly as I'd like to watch her open her eyes, we mustn't wake her.
If you were to wake up now I would pretend I was asleep the entire time.
I would calculate my breathing to ensure we share the same breath,
and I would tighten my grip around your waist,
just barely but enough so you know where you belong.
Grab hold of this one, hold on tight.
Gently wrap yourself around her ankles and wrists.
Keep her warm and comfortable.
And I pleaded with my pillows,
Let her sleep in peace,
remind her of nothing outside my bedroom door.
Become an ocean of comfort
that cradles her head into the afternoon.
I cut a deal with the birds outside my window
If you just keep singing through morning,
after the sun has packed its bags for the day,
into the evening, maybe we won't hear our alarm clocks.
The sun owed me a favor from a few years back,
Stretch your rays a bit further this morn.
Thread yourself in between my shades but keep away from her face
As badly as I'd like to watch her open her eyes, we mustn't wake her.
If you were to wake up now I would pretend I was asleep the entire time.
I would calculate my breathing to ensure we share the same breath,
and I would tighten my grip around your waist,
just barely but enough so you know where you belong.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Without Ever Opening My Eyes
In the morning I wake and I'm shivering
The wind trapped between my house and the bay window makes a familiar sound
It wakes me but the shivering keeps me awake
I listen to the birds outside and try to count how many there are
just by listening to the chorus they were all singing
I never really knew if what they say about birds was true
about how they can only hear the chirping of their own kind
Sometimes that just seems so sad to me
the way they all sung, like a choir together without ever knowing it
Listening closer still I can hear the sound of a chainsaw
and it cuts right through me
Bringing my sunrise chorus to an abrupt end and replacing it with
the teeth of the chain as it rounds the blade and shreds through wood and bark
and the sound of mother nature as she weeps for her early morning miracles
I feel bad for her and try to apologize for everything
but that task is a daunting one and I am sleepy still
There's the hum of my ceiling fan that buzzes above me
It gives my bedroom life, and acts as a net, wrangling all the sounds together
Like that faint hiss you can only get when a needle hits vinyl
that warms it all up and holds you tight
The fan blades spin and provide the tempo with each rotation
The only other sound I can hear is of my own lungs
as they fill up and deflate in perfectly awkward timing
On my inhale, with my eyes shut, I can hear the roll of waves getting ready to swallow a shore
On my exhale, the sound as they blanket the sand and retreat back ever so stealthy
For a moment I'm standing on a beach right before sunrise and I cannot see a thing
I trick myself into thinking I can hear my heart knocking on my chest plate
And I can't tell if it's asking to be let out or if it's trying to break out
It all makes me want to jump headfirst into the sky, the clouds seem quiet
But for some reason I recall learning the opposite
In a small way, I hope they're louder than we all think
So when I get up there they can drown out all the noise down here
The wind trapped between my house and the bay window makes a familiar sound
It wakes me but the shivering keeps me awake
I listen to the birds outside and try to count how many there are
just by listening to the chorus they were all singing
I never really knew if what they say about birds was true
about how they can only hear the chirping of their own kind
Sometimes that just seems so sad to me
the way they all sung, like a choir together without ever knowing it
Listening closer still I can hear the sound of a chainsaw
and it cuts right through me
Bringing my sunrise chorus to an abrupt end and replacing it with
the teeth of the chain as it rounds the blade and shreds through wood and bark
and the sound of mother nature as she weeps for her early morning miracles
I feel bad for her and try to apologize for everything
but that task is a daunting one and I am sleepy still
There's the hum of my ceiling fan that buzzes above me
It gives my bedroom life, and acts as a net, wrangling all the sounds together
Like that faint hiss you can only get when a needle hits vinyl
that warms it all up and holds you tight
The fan blades spin and provide the tempo with each rotation
The only other sound I can hear is of my own lungs
as they fill up and deflate in perfectly awkward timing
On my inhale, with my eyes shut, I can hear the roll of waves getting ready to swallow a shore
On my exhale, the sound as they blanket the sand and retreat back ever so stealthy
For a moment I'm standing on a beach right before sunrise and I cannot see a thing
I trick myself into thinking I can hear my heart knocking on my chest plate
And I can't tell if it's asking to be let out or if it's trying to break out
It all makes me want to jump headfirst into the sky, the clouds seem quiet
But for some reason I recall learning the opposite
In a small way, I hope they're louder than we all think
So when I get up there they can drown out all the noise down here
Saturday, May 4, 2013
New Roses
Even when your brain slips away
And it forgets every memory we made
I will write them all down for you
Even when your body is cold
And your veins stop racing
Even when your eyes glass over
And your skin no long radiates
Even if your hands can no longer grasp mine
I will try to keep you secure and warm
Even when your wrists stop vibrating
And your limbs become stones
Even when your lungs fail to rise
I'll breathe for the two of us
Even after the worms take their share
Every inch of you will still belong to me
Even when you become the grass
And the roses bloom with your scent
Even as those roses wilt
And sink back into the ground
You will always belong to me
And it forgets every memory we made
I will write them all down for you
Even when your body is cold
And your veins stop racing
Even when your eyes glass over
And your skin no long radiates
Even if your hands can no longer grasp mine
I will try to keep you secure and warm
Even when your wrists stop vibrating
And your limbs become stones
Even when your lungs fail to rise
I'll breathe for the two of us
Even after the worms take their share
Every inch of you will still belong to me
Even when you become the grass
And the roses bloom with your scent
Even as those roses wilt
And sink back into the ground
You will always belong to me
Thursday, April 25, 2013
A Sun In The Top Left Corner of My Paper
I wish I could write as my 6 year old self.
I wonder what I would have to say.
I bet there would hardly be complaints.
Or talks of destroying myself.
Instead of lines declaring all of my fears and regrets,
I would write of my favorite color. Or colors.
Cause I never really could decide between blue and red.
I think I'd say, "Blue is my favorite color...
...and so is red, so I guess red is my favorite, but blue is too."
With daily struggles between whether or not to be
A fireman, or a lion, or maybe a pirate when I grew up,
I'd have no time to worry myself about the time.
And I definitely couldn't be bothered with loneliness.
I had toys and imaginary friends to keep me company.
And, albeit reluctant, a few tea parties to attend.
When I wasn't napping I'd be flying, and if I wasn't flying,
I'd be avoiding lava, or the bad guys that I swore were
RIGHT BEHIND ME!
Instead of checking my bank account each morning,
I'd check my treasure chest at the foot of my bed.
Making sure everything was in order;
1 Nolan Ryan baseball card. Check.
1 Forest green wall ball. Check.
3 Uniquely shaped rocks from the backyard. Check. Check. Check.
And 6 twenty-five-cent-machine super balls,
Worth AT LEAST ten kagillion dollars each.
Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check.
If anything were askew I would remain calm and shrug it off.
All I had to do was check one of my super secret hiding spots.
Speaking of which, when I wanted to hide back then,
It was always coupled with counting to 10
And with the anticipation of being found by someone else.
For some reason though, that's not the case nowadays.
When I go to hide now, I want to be left alone,
With no red face from trying to keep my giggles in.
No childish fear of the person seeking you turning into a REAL LIFE MONSTER.
No one to burst out in laughter with once found.
It's just me, alone and forgetting to smile,
As well as every good reason as to why I should.
If my 6 year old self could write to me,
He'd probably remind me of my superpowers
And also to not use them all up at once,
Because well, superpowers run out sometimes.
I think he'd write, "I love you Mom" a few times.
And definitely a list or two of who my best friends are,
right next to a rundown of my favorite dinosaurs.
Most of all though, I hope there'd be this sun that I used to draw
In the top left corner of the paper with red and yellow and orange rays of sunshine
Hovering right above each colorful and waxy word.
I haven't drawn a sun in the top left corner of any paper in years,
And it's beginning to worry me that I can't remember when I decided that was no longer a necessity.
I wonder what I would have to say.
I bet there would hardly be complaints.
Or talks of destroying myself.
Instead of lines declaring all of my fears and regrets,
I would write of my favorite color. Or colors.
Cause I never really could decide between blue and red.
I think I'd say, "Blue is my favorite color...
...and so is red, so I guess red is my favorite, but blue is too."
With daily struggles between whether or not to be
A fireman, or a lion, or maybe a pirate when I grew up,
I'd have no time to worry myself about the time.
And I definitely couldn't be bothered with loneliness.
I had toys and imaginary friends to keep me company.
And, albeit reluctant, a few tea parties to attend.
When I wasn't napping I'd be flying, and if I wasn't flying,
I'd be avoiding lava, or the bad guys that I swore were
RIGHT BEHIND ME!
Instead of checking my bank account each morning,
I'd check my treasure chest at the foot of my bed.
Making sure everything was in order;
1 Nolan Ryan baseball card. Check.
1 Forest green wall ball. Check.
3 Uniquely shaped rocks from the backyard. Check. Check. Check.
And 6 twenty-five-cent-machine super balls,
Worth AT LEAST ten kagillion dollars each.
Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check.
If anything were askew I would remain calm and shrug it off.
All I had to do was check one of my super secret hiding spots.
Speaking of which, when I wanted to hide back then,
It was always coupled with counting to 10
And with the anticipation of being found by someone else.
For some reason though, that's not the case nowadays.
When I go to hide now, I want to be left alone,
With no red face from trying to keep my giggles in.
No childish fear of the person seeking you turning into a REAL LIFE MONSTER.
No one to burst out in laughter with once found.
It's just me, alone and forgetting to smile,
As well as every good reason as to why I should.
If my 6 year old self could write to me,
He'd probably remind me of my superpowers
And also to not use them all up at once,
Because well, superpowers run out sometimes.
I think he'd write, "I love you Mom" a few times.
And definitely a list or two of who my best friends are,
right next to a rundown of my favorite dinosaurs.
Most of all though, I hope there'd be this sun that I used to draw
In the top left corner of the paper with red and yellow and orange rays of sunshine
Hovering right above each colorful and waxy word.
I haven't drawn a sun in the top left corner of any paper in years,
And it's beginning to worry me that I can't remember when I decided that was no longer a necessity.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
From Memory From Apple (v.2)
We waited but we were hardly sure what for.
You always seemed so preoccupied and unaware of my wandering.
My eyes, my brain, hands; you missed them all drifting from your hold.
I'll be the martyr because you failed to be the artery I needed.
Your lungs didn't work for the two of us, you were selfish with your inhale.
Your heart was alive but barely for you and I.
I began to digest such an awful concoction of chemicals that went unnoticed.
And I was taking in such a poisonous mix of smoke and the breath from whoever.
You missed every breath I took that didn't stem for your exhale.
You always seemed so preoccupied and unaware of my wandering.
My eyes, my brain, hands; you missed them all drifting from your hold.
I'll be the martyr because you failed to be the artery I needed.
Your lungs didn't work for the two of us, you were selfish with your inhale.
Your heart was alive but barely for you and I.
I began to digest such an awful concoction of chemicals that went unnoticed.
And I was taking in such a poisonous mix of smoke and the breath from whoever.
You missed every breath I took that didn't stem for your exhale.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Organ Donor
I am used, secondhand
My parts once had other plans
Sure they work just like they should
Just trying to work for something good
They were hardly ever yours
I'm missing pieces from before
Way before I knew your name
If you're here to help, you're far too late
I like to watch you lose your nerve
I like to watch you start to squirm
Like watching something pretty burn
I like to watch you lose your nerve
I've given up my heartbeat
Handed it out, all for free
The last one here took what was left
Didn't leave much for the rest
I close my eyes when I lie
So I can listen deep down inside
Just to hear if there's any sound
It's my own damn fault, it's all run out
I like to watch you lose your nerve
I like to watch you start to squirm
Like watching something pretty burn
I like to watch you lose your nerve
My parts once had other plans
Sure they work just like they should
Just trying to work for something good
They were hardly ever yours
I'm missing pieces from before
Way before I knew your name
If you're here to help, you're far too late
I like to watch you lose your nerve
I like to watch you start to squirm
Like watching something pretty burn
I like to watch you lose your nerve
I've given up my heartbeat
Handed it out, all for free
The last one here took what was left
Didn't leave much for the rest
I close my eyes when I lie
So I can listen deep down inside
Just to hear if there's any sound
It's my own damn fault, it's all run out
I like to watch you lose your nerve
I like to watch you start to squirm
Like watching something pretty burn
I like to watch you lose your nerve
You Asked For This
I'm sorry, but you won't be joining the others.
I had to change the pattern up a bit and experiment a tinge.
There won't be any more discussion of you in the future.
You will remain in the past.
In my head, there will be no filing cabinet kept with your initials on it.
It will restore to it's previous settings, based on my time before you.
Any brief moment of weakness will be immediately followed by an extended moment of relief.
I had to change the pattern up a bit and experiment a tinge.
There won't be any more discussion of you in the future.
You will remain in the past.
In my head, there will be no filing cabinet kept with your initials on it.
It will restore to it's previous settings, based on my time before you.
Any brief moment of weakness will be immediately followed by an extended moment of relief.
Friday, March 22, 2013
The Animal Inside
I'd like the animal inside of you to show it's face
Come out and tear away at my lungs, crack my ribcage
Watch the smoke escape like a prison break
Sink your claws into the meat of my thighs
Drag them up and through my eyes
Whatever you do, just make sure my love is blind
Come out and tear away at my lungs, crack my ribcage
Watch the smoke escape like a prison break
Sink your claws into the meat of my thighs
Drag them up and through my eyes
Whatever you do, just make sure my love is blind
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Blow My Mind To Pieces
You seep in and out of my life
Like smoke does in my lungs
You creep in and out of my mind
Like smoke from a loaded gun
But when you point your thumb and your finger
Against my temple
Be sure you have what it takes to pull the trigger
I want you to blow my mind
I want you to blow my mind
I want you to blow my mind
So pull the trigger
You were smiling behind my eyes
When my eyelids weighed a ton
You just pick and choose the nights
To remind me of what we've done
So when you point your thumb and your finger
Against my temple
Be sure you have what it takes to pull the trigger
I want you to blow my mind
I want you to blow my mind
I want you to blow my mind
So pull the trigger
Like smoke does in my lungs
You creep in and out of my mind
Like smoke from a loaded gun
But when you point your thumb and your finger
Against my temple
Be sure you have what it takes to pull the trigger
I want you to blow my mind
I want you to blow my mind
I want you to blow my mind
So pull the trigger
You were smiling behind my eyes
When my eyelids weighed a ton
You just pick and choose the nights
To remind me of what we've done
So when you point your thumb and your finger
Against my temple
Be sure you have what it takes to pull the trigger
I want you to blow my mind
I want you to blow my mind
I want you to blow my mind
So pull the trigger
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
I Want To Push Up Daisies With You
I want you to breathe in my last breath. And I will do the same for you.
And wherever our bodies fall, shoulder to shoulder, will be where we will be.
Our family and friends will stop their tears knowing it is what we wanted.
I want to push up daisies with you. Side by side, dirt everywhere.
And as my last request, I want my head turned towards you.
You look beautiful when you sleep so I'll want to spend eternity watching you.
I want roots to surround us and weave in and out of our ribcages.
And we'll wait while they braid us together as we rest forever.
The Earth will radiate heat from our graves and will give life to everything around us.
I want us to forget our old lives as we burst through the soil next to each other.
And we will sway in the wind, colors bursting from our limbs.
You'll make such an exquisite flower one day and I'll make for the luckiest.
And wherever our bodies fall, shoulder to shoulder, will be where we will be.
Our family and friends will stop their tears knowing it is what we wanted.
I want to push up daisies with you. Side by side, dirt everywhere.
And as my last request, I want my head turned towards you.
You look beautiful when you sleep so I'll want to spend eternity watching you.
I want roots to surround us and weave in and out of our ribcages.
And we'll wait while they braid us together as we rest forever.
The Earth will radiate heat from our graves and will give life to everything around us.
I want us to forget our old lives as we burst through the soil next to each other.
And we will sway in the wind, colors bursting from our limbs.
You'll make such an exquisite flower one day and I'll make for the luckiest.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
You Know Damn Well
Grant me access to your patience
Give me the OK to take my time
Cause I'm not sure what comes next
I just know for now you're mine
I kick at the dirt while you wait
Looking down I feel much better
Cause I know if I look up
They'll be a change in the weather
And with that change, here comes the wind
And with the wind, it brings the rain
And once it rains, I'll hide away
Until the sun comes back to say
"You know damn well
There's not much I can do,
If you don't let
The rain wash over you"
Say I offered you a deal
One that's fair and rather even
One that changes your last name
A promise that I'm never leaving
We'll use our hands to build a home
One that fits more than few
One that shelters while we grow
All our love so fresh and true
We can be on the same team
And change it all from 'you and me'
To a simple 'us and we'
I'm hoping that you'll say to me,
"You know damn well,
Every storm that passes through
I'll always be
Standing in the rain with you."
Give me the OK to take my time
Cause I'm not sure what comes next
I just know for now you're mine
I kick at the dirt while you wait
Looking down I feel much better
Cause I know if I look up
They'll be a change in the weather
And with that change, here comes the wind
And with the wind, it brings the rain
And once it rains, I'll hide away
Until the sun comes back to say
"You know damn well
There's not much I can do,
If you don't let
The rain wash over you"
Say I offered you a deal
One that's fair and rather even
One that changes your last name
A promise that I'm never leaving
We'll use our hands to build a home
One that fits more than few
One that shelters while we grow
All our love so fresh and true
We can be on the same team
And change it all from 'you and me'
To a simple 'us and we'
I'm hoping that you'll say to me,
"You know damn well,
Every storm that passes through
I'll always be
Standing in the rain with you."
Saturday, February 16, 2013
When The Ocean Won't Listen
When the ocean won't listen and you lose your voice from shouting at it, I'll be waiting on the sand for you and we'll walk home together, defeated but together. When the ocean won't listen and it spits it's salty kiss at you, I'll lick every bit of salt from your wounds. And when the ocean won't listen but instead it's current grabs at your ankles, I'll be ready with a rope back on shore. I'll toss it around your waist and I will not let go. Scream all night, waist deep in the water, I will not let go. When the ocean won't listen and we've been up all night, let's not worry ourselves seasick. When the ocean won't listen and it's waves rock you to sleep, I will stay awake and keep the sharks at bay. And when the ocean won't listen and you're ready to go under, I will stuff our pockets with rocks and tie anchors to our ankles. When you're ready to go under, I will drown with you.
The Ocean Won't Listen
No matter how hard you try, when you throw yourself into the sea, your body won't let you drown without something to hold you down. I threw myself into the sea several times, and violently at that. I dug my hands deep into the sand and grabbed at every grain. Under my nails they were grabbing back but there's nothing you can do to fight the current. I was screaming the entire time, one of those screams you let out that scares yourself and it scares everyone around you. But there's never any sound under the water besides a muffled grumbling that surrounds you, and even if there was, the ocean wouldn't listen. I've tried, and several times at that. It was always your name I was screaming but this last time it came out sad and not scary and I'm so sorry about that. But I can't keep jumping into the ocean and playing chicken with the waves and I can't keep holding my breath just to see what happens. You no longer have the strength to keep me under the water and I don't want to drown with you anymore. I want to drown with someone else.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Dr. Mark, Dr. Chris, Dr. Luis
There's a small pocket of pain inside of my torso that cripples me from time to time.
It rests near my floating rib on the left side of my body.
It has been the only thing to remind me that I am human and cannot act as if otherwise.
Not even the shattering of a few bones slowed me down.
But a collection of x-rays pile up next to my bed and I am uneasy about it all.
I hold them up to the light to see the damage I've done but bones make me squeamish enough to faint.
I've passed out just 3 times, twice in the last year and I can't stand knowing doctors by their first name.
Whatever happened to the doctor-patient relationship where the white coat doesn't look me in the eye?
That's the kind of relationship I want with my doctor.
The type where he doesn't remember my name or the last time I saw him.
It rests near my floating rib on the left side of my body.
It has been the only thing to remind me that I am human and cannot act as if otherwise.
Not even the shattering of a few bones slowed me down.
But a collection of x-rays pile up next to my bed and I am uneasy about it all.
I hold them up to the light to see the damage I've done but bones make me squeamish enough to faint.
I've passed out just 3 times, twice in the last year and I can't stand knowing doctors by their first name.
Whatever happened to the doctor-patient relationship where the white coat doesn't look me in the eye?
That's the kind of relationship I want with my doctor.
The type where he doesn't remember my name or the last time I saw him.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Specific Temperatures
I want you in my room. Really I do. And I know how that sounds. But it's not how it sounds.
I want you in my room but only because I'm tired of being cold. You've always been so warm to me.
A sheet, then a blanket, topped with a comforter does nothing but give me cold sweats.
Maybe I'm sick. Or maybe I'm just getting sick of shivering and sick of goosebumps all over my damn body.
Things get heavier than they really are when it's cold, especially when all the other birds already flew south.
I want to sweat to a new warmth. Or an old warmth. But a specific temperature.
And I want to seep in it with you. Let it find it's way through the layers of our skin.
Listen, I just don't want to enjoy too much without you. I want to tell stories with you and not to you.
I don't want to have one of those moments where we have to look at each other and say, "Where have you been? I've been waiting."
Just hurry up and get here. We're wasting our own damn time. And I know of a lot of good parties coming up.
We shouldn't show up alone. What will everyone think? And besides, there's food that will go to waste.
I want you in my room but only because I'm tired of being cold. You've always been so warm to me.
A sheet, then a blanket, topped with a comforter does nothing but give me cold sweats.
Maybe I'm sick. Or maybe I'm just getting sick of shivering and sick of goosebumps all over my damn body.
Things get heavier than they really are when it's cold, especially when all the other birds already flew south.
I want to sweat to a new warmth. Or an old warmth. But a specific temperature.
And I want to seep in it with you. Let it find it's way through the layers of our skin.
Listen, I just don't want to enjoy too much without you. I want to tell stories with you and not to you.
I don't want to have one of those moments where we have to look at each other and say, "Where have you been? I've been waiting."
Just hurry up and get here. We're wasting our own damn time. And I know of a lot of good parties coming up.
We shouldn't show up alone. What will everyone think? And besides, there's food that will go to waste.
My Pretty
When I try to think while I write I tend to copy something I've already said before. Instead I just write and ignore the rules I've set for myself outside of this realm. This realm being a strange one but I am even stranger. Outside of my window smoke is constantly rising and with grace it breaks in and dances around my room. I've been told once or twice or never that I'm a good dancer, so I join in - but only I really know how awkward I feel the entire time. I always hope someone pretty is watching. Someone I only think is pretty, because I know what pretty is. And my pretty is not your pretty. And I'll always be grateful for that. My pretty erases my memory, she is generous but dangerous, and my pretty gives me purpose. Maybe in between the giants that roam around here, I'll clumsily bump into someone who never cared much for the dance either.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Cavalier Gallant
Tiny and in charge, admirable guts
You shaped me, when I was clay
Pale skin, covered in marks of beauty
I was your paramour, you used me as you could
Delighted to be of help, I missed you though
Most of the time, after I snuck out
Wear all darks there, wear almost nothing here
Where was he even, where was I
Sorry about a lot, you were a favorite of mine
Don't mix pain with pleasure
But make sure you mix pleasure with pain
Snuck is not a word, you'll correct me eventually
You shaped me, when I was clay
Pale skin, covered in marks of beauty
I was your paramour, you used me as you could
Delighted to be of help, I missed you though
Most of the time, after I snuck out
Wear all darks there, wear almost nothing here
Where was he even, where was I
Sorry about a lot, you were a favorite of mine
Don't mix pain with pleasure
But make sure you mix pleasure with pain
Snuck is not a word, you'll correct me eventually
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
