Verse

Confessions of a Scarecrow

2011-05-11T22:43:00.000-04:00

All I can do is hang here. I don't know how long its been anymore. For awhile I tried to keep track of the number of sunrises and sunsets. I even had a birthday. Nobody came though so shortly after I stopped caring and stopped counting. This is just life for me. Counting the days only made me anxious, as if something would change. I was hanging here yesterday and I'll be here tomorrow too. Dressed in rags and standing in the center of a field.

Its not all terrible though. I often sit in the early morning hours entranced in wonder over what sort of day we'll be having. If the sun is bright and the animals are scurrying about then I have entertainment. But if the sky just gets a brighter gray and the rain starts early I soak in my despair alone. At times nice days can be a little depressing too because while I can see all the animals, they wont come near me. I always dream of how great it would be to uproot myself and hop around with them. I've tried too, you have no idea how long I've tried.

I'm really a nice guy, I'm sure I could make lots of animal friends. But its something that I can't quite put my finger on. Its like I send out some sort of "Don't get too close" vibe that I cant tell I'm sending and everyone can feel but me. I'm always smiling, I don't know what's not to like. The worst are the birds. They torture me by coming in close and never stopping to land on me. I haven't been touched by anything in over a month, I'm beginning to get delusional.

Maybe I'm a ghost. I don't interact with the world and it goes on ignorant of me. But if I were a ghost I'd be able to move about freely and see more of this world. I'm stuck here with this same field sunrise through sunset. If you ever happen to see someone living as a scarecrow you should stop and have a little visit with him, you'll make his month at the very least. And give them a hug so they know that they still exist.

Wonderland

2011-05-11T22:25:00.000-04:00

It was chaos perfected. They peeled back a sheet of plywood with her fathers crowbar and entered a darkened hallway. They had heard stories about this decaying relic on the oceanfront and had decided to finally see it for themselves. The hallway that they entered was filled with rubble and used needles littered the floor. Armed with a cell phone flashlight and the crowbar they pressed onward. The hallway led to a giant ballroom. In the '20s the big bands used to play on the raised stage with long velvet curtains. There were 3 golden chandeliers above a marble checkered dance floor. What must have been an elegant place was now decaying and had a strange beauty to it. Two of the chandeliers had fallen and cracked through the marble. Where the dance floor was cracked there were small trees that had begun to grow and vines covered the walls. Where ever nature hadn't claimed, local graffiti artists had. Huge colorful tapestries surrounded by vines filled the walls and balcony. She danced ahead to the center of the floor to swing around on a tree and stop to look at him. He could almost make out the band playing something slow and melodic and he danced over to her. "We should never take a picture of this place, it wouldn't do it justice." He said. She smiled at him and danced away, floating in circles amidst the wreckage. Coming in tighter and tighter around him, she finally falls into his arms and they share a kiss. Then she turns her head towards him and opens her eyes. She says "This is our wonderland, this is where we'll always meet in our dreams."

Directors Cut

2011-05-11T22:02:00.000-04:00

If I could direct and edit my life, I could show you who I really am. There would be no confusion due to the words I use or the stories that I can't quite convey. I would make sure to frame every shot perfectly and to pay close attention to color composition so that my life would Pop off the screen for you. I've never been a very good storyteller because for a lot of my stories you really would have had to see it to believe it. And I would make sure that you saw my best action scenes slowed down and sped up to portray poise and composure that I don't have. And oh how I would love to montage right through the dark chapters of my life. To introduce something that has scarred me and show a quick step by step of how I got over it set to music. Then the movie could pick right back up where it left off only now I am somehow stronger and wiser.

I would want my movie to be a love story. I've learned everything I know of love from movies and books. I'm afraid that the way that I love doesn't translate to the real world anyway, so it only makes sense. I would see her on a train platform in the rain and we would sneak glances at each other until our eyes finally met. Then I would ask her for a light even though I had a lighter in my pocket and we would start to talk and hit it off. We would immediately fall for each other and fall hard. No matter what plot twist is thrown at us, we would survive it and remain deeply in love. I think that love is really the only thing worth fighting for, so I would take on any obstacle and love would prevail. The end of the movie would be moving to even the hardest criminal. Unfortunately I am only a character without a script. Even if I was the director, I most likely wouldn't show you who I am. But then I could show you who I dream of being

5 Things I've Taught Myself

2011-05-11T21:02:00.000-04:00

1. Know where to hide things. Hide people, places, and feelings where no one will find them. Hide them in such a way that unless you are really desperately trying to get them back, you wont even find them. If you hide things for long enough, it becomes second nature. And if you hide them well enough, deep enough in the creases of your brain, you might be lucky enough to forget them.

2. If it seems too easy, you're doing it wrong. Nothing really comes easily. Everything worthwhile takes tremendous effort. Things that seem to just happen for others, won't for you. From your first breath to your last you need to work to try to keep up with what other people consider a normal life. You will often look around you and stop at times to believe that you have finally made it. You haven't. Keep trying.

3. Never tell someone what you really mean. This especially counts if you really care about them. Wrap up your thoughts in bows and ribbons and choose every word carefully so that you know exactly how they'll take it. If you speak too rashly or truthfully you are taking a huge risk. If there is a way to take any part of what you say out of context, to manipulate into some twisted version of what you meant, they will do so.

4. Learn how to lose. Pick sports teams with losing records and always bet on the limping horse. Run races against track stars and always root for the villains in your favorite movies. This way you learn to live with disappointment and become wary of success. This may not sound like the best advice, but trust me it is. You will never spend nights tearing out your hair when you cant figure out what went wrong. Why things fell apart the way they did. You will know that failing isn't the end of the world, it's just a part of it.

5. If someone tells you they love you they are not to be trusted. Love is a dangerous word and anyone who uses it is either uninformed of its destructive nature or a thief. And they will steal everything that you have. They will take your dignity and sanity and sell it in dark alleys for the price of a laugh. They will steal nights of sleep where you're left wondering what this love could possibly mean and why you have no peace and can get no reprieve. And they will steal your smile. You may never get it back.

Enough

2011-05-11T20:47:00.000-04:00

For years, I'd splatter your face with drops of my foxhole prayers.
My "Why God,why's," or my "Please help me get out of this!"
I'm done screaming, done crying and clawing my way to a different life.
I see that the grass is greener across the river.
But I don't want to cross it anymore.
I dont care. This struggle is all I can remember.
Always moving on and hiding. Always hiding from the sunshine and the rain,
the work and the play, from all of you and all of me.
Tears may stream wet and warm down my cheeks but I'm not upset.
I'm not happy. For once I just am.
For now that is enough.
I cant convince anyone of anything anymore.
But I can show you how I sing.
We can dance if you'd like to.
Our laughter can ring out to the moon, and bounce back on its beams of light.
I can be anything from one moment to the next.
I can sit still like an ancient redwood.
I can dip my head below the water and emerge pure again like a swan.
I will learn to run like a rabbit and howl like a wolf.
And most importantly I will love again.
I will love the earth and the stars and the ocean.
I will love peace and laughter, silence and sins.
And when I meet you, I will love you.

I'm good, How are you?

2011-05-11T20:30:00.000-04:00

On the surface, everything checks out. There is a smile on my face and my voice is steady, calm. I will tell you about that time in college, or that girl I dated, or something that I once heard that stuck with me. I will ask about how your life is going, how your family is, and whatever is new and exciting. We will spend some time together talking and catching up and then we will part ways. I bet you'll never even notice that I didn't tell you anything. Or that I'm dying inside a little more each and every day. But it's not your fault at all. See, my curse is this; I'm doomed to love but never be loved. To care but never to be cared for. And this, this is all my fault. You see there are things that I can't trust inside of me. I am terrified of my own mind and can't risk it attacking me again. I don't think I'll survive another battle. So I listen, but don't really say anything. When I do speak, I speak defensively. I only speak to keep you at bay, to turn the conversation back to you so that I can keep you safe. I don't need anyone else to die with me. All I want in this world is someone who could help me deal with all the pain. But I'm terrified that if I do let anyone in, anyone know who I am, they'd hate me. Or even worse, Love me and be dragged down too trying to save me.

The Nights get Cold

2011-05-11T20:10:00.000-04:00

Do you know what its like to be betrayed by everyone you love, and disowned by your family? To lie with a plastic handle as your pillow, on a steel bench at the train station, because its as good a place as any that you have to sleep for the night. Have you cried to God to save you till your voice gives out and your tear ducts have spent their reservoir? If I could just get the energy to walk a little longer, to ask a few more people for spare change, I might be able to eat today. Or have enough for a 40. It is no longer an option, you see I have to drink. I have to drink so I can forget peoples stares. So I can stop myself from replaying and reliving the events that brought me to the person I've become.

They say "Get a Job!", and I think to myself would you please hire me? Please find me a way out of this? But they just keep walking by with disapproving stares while the change in their pockets could keep me fed for a week. People don't appreciate the simple things in life, like how it feels to just stand in one place without the fear of being arrested for it. To eat something everyday without worrying about how old it was and the fear of how sick it could make you. The ability to own clothes other than the ones you could fit on your back. And most of all how it feels to have someone, anyone, that will occasionally say, "I love you."

Crash

2011-01-15T15:15:00.003-05:00

That sinking feeling is coming back.
I know it must have happened in a second, but its hours to me.
One by one things fade out of focus until there's a sucking silence and a fade to black.
I'm hitting the windshield, there are diamonds flying ahead of me in space.
I snap back to consciousness in time to see this scene from stage right, and I look on.
This moment of time, this fragment of a second, is where I'm at now.
The beauty of the impact and my dance with the shattered glass in that last breathe of hope.
Right before the life or death, right before the flashing lights, before the body bag.
That last second where you don't see it coming or care.
Where you are wrapped up in beauty and ignorant of the crash to come.

And Until We Meet Again

2010-12-01T13:54:00.002-05:00

The setting: A porch on a pavillion on the edge of the ocean. An overhead light encases the porch in a dim lit dream. An old man sits silently smoking his cigarette next to a much younger man. Both are sitting on white rocking chairs with tall bars in back, and a gentle rocker to them. For a moment or a lifetime, they stare into the dark ocean and both are encased in the serenity and timelessness of the ancient sea that has watched man bustle out and explode onto their shores. Our camera slowly pans in and a faint resemblance is obvious. Cut to a close up of the old mans face as he stares out again with a quiet smile. His deep wrinkles and loosened skin seem to give him a kind natured impression at first glance, in your next glance you notice his eyes. His striking blue eyes echo clear waters with an ever growing sense of depth to be explored. As the camera slides back we notice a dark haired young man sitting and rocking at the same pace as his elder next to him. He has light brown eyes with golden speckles and a stern brow. Dark lines under his eyes give an impression of worry. We cut to a shot of them from past the breakers, encased in the dim golden light. Cut to a profile whose focus fades from the young man to old. Now we see them both center shot and an exchange takes place between them. The audio track is all breeze and blowing hard. After they both take a long glance at each other, the old man puts his left hand on the younger's shoulder. He stands, the shot panning out to hold his figure framed perfectly as he extends and turns to look at his grandchild. The violent ocean clashed with his proud Irish soul and he walked away into the darkness and wind. His figure disappearing into the fog. We cut to the young man deep in thought and then a smile breaks his worried face open into a look of real hope. A shit-eating grin that beam, and eyes full of fire. His laugh carries on the wind clear down the shoreline and out, to the horizon.

Cold

2010-12-01T13:46:00.002-05:00

Are you the devil, dressed as a woman with dark eyes and a beautiful smile?
Are you here to remind me that my heart would freeze an icicle?
No matter how fast I rub my hands together, there is no warmth or static energy in them.
Nor is the world. The world I promised would be ours isn't sitting quietly in my palms,
but dragging me kicking and screaming in space and time.
Will you make me weep again?
Are you not satisfied with the mushroom cloud drowning out my stars?
I get one mid December breath in and am warmed.
Please leave me alone to freeze in silence.

Brush with Disaster

2010-12-01T13:42:00.002-05:00

When the accident happened I was asked to describe the pain on a scale of none to ten, ten being the worst pain I've ever felt. All of the ribs on my left side were fractured, one popped my left lung and had collapsed it, and my arm was sprained. The doctor said that I must have hit the asphalt at 40 miles an hour and could have easily died. I stopped when they asked me about the pain, and my first thought was of you. I dont think that would even fit on a scale. I lied. I stared straight into his eyes and said ten. Maybe morphine can drip your memory away.

Lie to me

2010-12-01T13:36:00.002-05:00

Just let my love lie.
Let me believe that angels conspire to write our storybook ending.
That we are growing everyday in some way to lie close again.
Sometimes your brazen and pretend that love, like the songbird,
wont fall to the ground in the first frost.
Other times you grow shy and drop clues that I'm the one in love with you.
We are a seesaw and I'm just falling down into the pit beaten by godless children before me,
while you are flung towards the sunset and the great Apollo smiles.
Just come back to Earth someday.
Tell me you've always loved me.
Lie to me.

Ghost Stories

2010-12-01T13:24:00.002-05:00

Yes, I'm gone. I'm a ghost, a distant memory. There is no more warmth left to my touch. My eyes smolder as the tears put the fire in them out. The smoke collects in a cloud that is ever trailing me, and trailing to the heavens. This must be purgatory, I must be dead. I try to speak but cant commit to volume and mumble my words. I laugh at funerals and cry for lovers. At least at a funeral some progress is made. Lovers are doomed to tragedy and pain, both from within their hearts and the growing problems of age. Welcome to my world, where communication becomes a puzzle to solve that consumes life. How can I speak? My mind races through underground tunnels searching for my grave robbed heart. I have unfinished business to do. I have to find an angel to restore my heart to me. I swear I'm a good spirit, I just want to feel again. I'll keep my eyes locked on the stars and constellations and pray that I stumble blindly into you. Wrap me in your wings and show me how to love again. Miracles only happen when they dont matter, so for now I'm somewhere looking for something else. If you cant believe in love you start to fade away like me. Things stop feeling good or bad. People drift in and out of life like leaves down a river. Love is about finding someone to fall apart with. To destroy your mask and stand bravely face to face. I miss the warmth in my cheeks when I would smile at you. I miss feeling like everyone that saw us was inspired by how strongly our love shone. I miss laying in bed cuddled together to stay off the cold of the winter. But for now I'm just a friendly ghost. Cold, dead, and cowardly. Terrified of the shadows that cast themselves onto me.

A Look at a Trees Life

2010-12-01T13:10:00.002-05:00

The trees are waving their branches at me.
Their tops are filled with shadows and flames.
I've never seen a tree uproot and flee from drought or a monsoon.
We call you deciduous, but you don't grow any differently from it.
You don't shed your leaves and become what we say.
Grow towards the sun, not away.

Exploding Tension

2010-12-01T13:01:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I feel like exploding. My head is tipped to the sky and my arms outstretch to the horizon lines. My fingertips disappear, and strings of the words I never said stream out into the atmosphere. They gather in groups and form clouds that blot out the stars and force the world to sit in silence, to live like me. I scream but instead of sound comes a bright light that skyrockets right into the middle of that ebony monster of words and night. The light blinds me and after the beam has left my body I slump to the ground. I cant see where I am but I feel a gentle raindrop fall on my cheek.Now another drops on my nose. And now on my ear. I start to hear not raindrops falling around me with their steady rhythm, but something else. Softly at first, as a child whispers, but becoming louder and more distinct with each quickening drop were words instead of rain. "Im Sorry.""Everything is Great,""I believe in you,""I love you."

A Quiet Memory

2010-12-01T12:56:00.002-05:00

I ask to see the tattoo on her thumb as she punches my ticket. She hesitatingly shows me a rose with two thorns etched in the wrinkled webbing between her pointer finger and thumb. She says slowly, "Its old, almost 40 years now." Wiith a sad smile she turns and walks down the corridor of strangers off to live their lives. I wish I had told her that tattoos like memories and love, never die. That we show our tattoos and scars with the pride that can only be attained by the few who are no longer scared of themselves.

Panic Attack

2010-12-01T12:52:00.002-05:00

Tick. Your eyes go distant. Tick. Your brow turns from a gentle stream over your eyes to a raging river. Tick. You draw your strong arms up against your chest to hold your heart in your body. Tick.
Your eyes slide back and forth as your mind chases its tail. Tick. Breathing gets harder and only gasps escape like prisoners with life sentences yearning to be free. Tick. Without realizing it, the rocking starts. Tick. Rambling now, hoping that the words sprinting off your tongue will return with help. Tock.

Its Been A Rough Fall

2010-12-01T12:46:00.002-05:00

[Just a little editors note before I post alot of my newer poetry. I wound up in the psychiatric ward twice and the hospital many times the last few months and am still trying to recover the person I am. The following entries delve into my madness. Enjoy.]

Im half alive.
Im catatonic.
I need to fix this.
I dont know why you hate me so much.
I dont know whats real or fake.
People keep talking to me,
but I only half hear, half see.
Its a beautiful day outside, I guess.

Dreams

2010-03-05T13:26:00.002-05:00

Without our dreams to guide us, mankind would have extinguished the fire of life before it could start. Without dreams of the future, no future can exist. A rose is just a seasonal flower with thorns on the stem, without the romance born in the dreams and imaginations of millions. All around us the dreams of those who came before project themselves onto our world. Every technological advancement in the products we use daily to communicate, every billboard and book, every child and the stuffed animals they cling to them for comfort, is the end result of what started as a dream. Dreams are the insight that allows us to see the world not only as it is, but as it could be. Without our dreams of romance and love, the world would be a machine running until theres no more gas. Our dreams become something more than ourselves and paint our world in our heart, minds, and eyes. Whether our dreams live on in our loved ones and their memories, our art or influence, or even a beautiful garden; Our Dreams are what make us Real.

She

2010-03-02T23:01:00.002-05:00

Shes a flower with a stoma of sun and petals or stars shining.
Shes fire on the horizon of a blackening night.
As the tide ebbs and the moon recedes beneath a blanket of clouds,
I see her dancing among the shells scattered down the coast to warmer lands.
Where two souls laid hollow,
She stitches and sews hearts of sorrow until only love shows.
I will be the moon to her sun.
And when we align the world will explode into light and lay silent in awe.

We Love

2010-01-19T18:50:00.002-05:00

We Love on silent winter beaches in the solace of the suns bright rays.
We Love in smooth stones and beautiful shells suspended in calm waters.
We Love at times when time has turned backwards and thrown us to the future.
We Love hailstorms and comfortable covers in strong warm embrace.
We Love on rails of steel and wood and in frantic races to what awaits us.
Love is all that we know how to do. Love can change the world.

My Better Half

2009-12-22T05:36:00.000-05:00

You are the flower that blooms at the dawn of my heart.
Your roots reach deep, and I can see you blooming into this days early night.
Where dreams wait and our love is rehearsed, on the stage it was meant for.
I feel as if I was blind to the world around me, until you showed me what love is.
What it truly means.
Why we were put on this earth as two halves to a whole.

My Angel

2009-12-22T04:34:00.000-05:00

You flow in and out of me by the minute.
Like music you surround me with your embracing love.
When I think of you, I believe in God again.
I was Blessed with an Angel who has yet to see her wings.
And as a Cardinal flies to the heavens,she turns to me and says,
"I will soar one day to meet that sky which awaits me,
But for now I will learn to fly to the life that is ahead."

Starshine

2009-12-11T04:23:00.001-05:00

Long nights spent crying out into the night sky.
Looking for a star that would shine with a stare, and fill my lungs with air.
I feel that star come into my heart and consume my thoughts.
We are the children of the sky and the heavens.
We love love and all that it means.
Those down on earth may stare up and wonder, but they can't guess the space between us.
But oh how much more brightly our light glows together.

Pierrot

2009-05-12T16:26:00.001-04:00

She dances opposite me all day long
With beautiful melodies she weaves dreams with her steps
But I am always the jester
Living my nightmares as my reality
While the dreams I have left turn to ashes and float away in the night air
A smile permanently fixed on my face betrays my heart
With every pulse leaking more till theres nothing left
Why can't they see the truth in my eyes as I spin in circles?

About Spinning

2009-05-12T16:24:00.000-04:00

Always moving, Never progressing
Spreading horizontally, but never upwards
The more you laugh, the darker my heart grows
More proclaim their love for me
Love grows meaningless.
Reality is a casket closing fast
As my nightmares overcome my dreams.

Sons of Light and Darkness

2008-12-11T18:16:00.002-05:00

Shadows surround her face as she lies next to me.
Tears fall unnoticed on the pillow as I keep her gaze.
She cries for things known, loved, and lost.
I lie through my teeth and promise we will never die.
But her silent tears fall despite herself.
Worlds build, expand, and explode but our love endures.

Explode

2008-12-11T18:09:00.002-05:00

Footworn and weary souls
Coasting through tunnels of trees
Towards distant horizon lines
Floating in boxes of tin and dreams

Under us, the river of relativity
Above us, sky and impossible heights
Destinations known and unknown
The past forgotten and forlorn

We live and die and burn away
Burn bright, extinguish, but never flicker
Become supernova, explode the stars
Consume life in the backdraft

The Golden Hour

2008-05-05T11:56:00.004-04:00

As I stare out over the town of sleeping people, I know what is truly meant by the coming of the morning sun. The men, women, and children are asleep and at peace for now. But what chance is there for peace in the minds of men throughout our daily lives? When the golden hour comes they will awaken and be born again into a world that they are all part of but many will never know. They will rush off to jobs and school, worry about bills and saving for a vacation down the line, and some may even fall in love. The dreams of their sleep will be forgotten and they will plan for their futures. But how many will stop to think about their day? How many will not figuratively, but literally stop to smell the flowers that they will rush past? To appreciate the gifts of life and love that are all around us? The way the morning dew refreshes the earth and the sun nourishes us with indifference to our trifles and struggles. Give me liberty, happiness, depression, and anger, but never give me apathy.

The Birth of a Child

2008-04-06T23:52:00.005-04:00

Tears running down mothers eyes drip onto her newly born baby boy. It is her hope that one day he will become something the likes of which this new world has never seen. He will be represented by monuments to his greatness and everyone who passes his likeness by long after his death will take a second to remember this man who changed the world. She hopes for love and laughter for her child. She hopes that with her own love she will transform him into the type of man who brings his love of things and people with him. He will stand as a beacon for those lost tormented souls who walk blindly by day by day not appreciating the vast beauty of the world. You can see it in this mothers eyes, she doesn't merely wish it to be so. She will take him to the best schools to make his mind sharper than diamond. She will keep him active and make sure that not only is he mentally fit to be the catalyst which will change all men but also that his heart, a faint whisper now, beats to be a roar that will call the world to unite under him. The hospital is humming with activity. The man next to her will need his appendix removed, the doctor said. The woman across from her has lost her leg and is just now beginning to start the necessary recovery process. And somewhere in the ER one floor down a man has just lost his life. But the mother hears nothing going on around her. She is deaf, for a moment, to the world in general. Once she awakens from the visions of grandeur she turns to the doctor and finally responds to his question. “Swain”, she says, “Swain Duffin.”

Love Songs

2007-10-30T04:10:00.000-04:00

If I were to write a love song
I'd have to pretend it wasn't about you
All of the memories are
Perfect puzzle pieces
Showing what I've loved and lost
Perfect little shards of life
That I had once lived
And even now these shards are deep in me
And leave an imprint of the way things should have been

As the music plays it draws me to a deeper place
A place that lives in me where each note is a decision
And bass hits match my hearts beats
When my minds eye summons you
I can't run from you anymore, I love you
The bass quickens and I might explode
My heart can't take this overload
Of clarity of vision of the woman I love

Written Long Ago no.1

2007-10-28T23:01:00.001-04:00

She domintes my thoughts night and day. Like a yellow bird she flies into my dreams at night. Oh my graceful, unattainable Daisy. My Lolita. Every symbol of an intoxicating, overwhelming desire. Not the desire to become physical with, but much more than that. The desire to simply know what goes on behind those eyes. To hear those thoughts. To hold her just to feel her heartbeat against yours. If only she knew what a smile from her can do to raise from me any trace of sadness. How her ignorance or disregard of my attempts to impress her can make me uneasy till we next speak, sometimes as much as a week apart. Like a beautiful butterfly she dances around my thoughts, stopping at times and landing to jump start my mind and heart. And then she is off again fluttering around in every which direction but visible in the field the whole time. And just when I feel as though she has gone on to a more beautiful field, she lands on my back.

The Way She Is

2007-10-28T22:57:00.000-04:00

Just being near her isn’t enough

I need to be able to feel her

To hold her close to me like lovers do

I need the warmth of her against me

And I need the smell of whatever perfume she wears

I need her awkward glances and steady eyes

There’s no way to describe all the things she provides in verse

So I’ll try my best to wrap this up

I need her utterly and completely, just the way she is tonight.

The Vast Ocean

2007-10-26T06:34:00.000-04:00

The boy looked out into the ocean as he had so many nights before. And like so many nights before the boy was at the beach looking out over the ocean because he didn’t belong anywhere else. Not that the boy particularly belonged at the beach but often in times of stress he would be soothed by the vast expanse of an ocean he may never cross. You see this particular boy was plagued by the way things were from much too young of an age. Growing up with the understanding of an adult of the way that people are, the boy never really was able to get along with the other children. Adults would often call him mature but let’s call him what he really was, robbed of the innocence of youth. He was taught that life is in fact not fair. He was taught not to trust others and also at the same time to listen to all authority. These things all meshed together to make questions of belonging and happiness almost impossible to answer to the boy. How do you tell someone that has never been taught to love people that others could in turn love him for the way he was? The boy took off his shoes and felt the sand in between his toes like so many others had before. He could feel the gentle swaying of the waves ahead of him. He knew the smell and taste of the ocean and let it fill his lungs as he had so many times before. And then he calmly walked into the water and sunk beneath the rising moon.

Hard Nights, Hard Days

2007-10-26T06:09:00.000-04:00

Another shot down

Another day I will hate

Why wake up at all

Shots increase in time

Time slow down! Time never stops

One more shot I’m fine

Why won’t you pick up?

I need you now more than ever

No where near or far

Stumble home but then

I realize home is long gone

One room prison now

Room is spinning fast

Missing all those I have lost

And will lose later

Basement Musings

2007-10-26T05:43:00.000-04:00

The basement lines can’t seem to find the words to match my thoughts.

So I sit here, and fear to say I’ve lost what I forgot.

A bit of sanity left and self respect that children have never lost.

And now the pressure is building up, to become the man I’ll be.

And I can’t seem to understand how this pressure changes me.

I can’t find my past and my memory’s lax of the way things used to be.

So come you say, those times are past when you ran away from life

Now you’re stuck here to grow and learn to deal with the strife

No more days without regrets, No more silly childish dreams.