the suburbs have suburbs

there's something to be said for ritualized suffering.

at least that's what they say.

and finding someplace to shut your eyes,

because you spent the whole night,

running from the day- 

now morning's here, so quick before it's light,

let's sleep it all away.

and your sense of humor is the first thing to go,

at least that's what they say. 

11/22/09

for the life of me,

i could not tell you why.

but believe me,

i would give anything;

only just to be...

now bundle up,

keep your breath inside.

it's the life of you.

(and in vain we try,

to stay warm in the wind-

and dry in the rain.)

in vain, in vain.

now rise to your feet,

take two steps outside.

broken trees, broken leaves,

debris. 

(what is left of this?

what did you do?)

it was me. 

so we ask ourselves,

what is wrong with us?

we can't help but be so sad.

i would give everything; 

only just to be...

just exist with me

and walk along the sidewalk.

it's cold out tonight.

yes, very cold.

let's take our hands,

now ball them into little fists-

where the knuckles are white

and the thin skin hiding your bulging tendons

feels neglected in the wind. 

and let's walk down that street,

the one with all the little houses and the two sidewalks.

the last time we were here it was summer.

there was a band playing in the garage,

and someone was eating a hot dog.

then a better band played,

and people listened,

and the sun went down.

but back then, the sun was bad at saying goodbye,

and it stayed watching, 

peering at us through branches,

until it was finally ushered away,

by hills and the horizon.

and now the sun gets bored of us easily,

and sidles away while were distracted,

early in the afternoon.

it gets cold when the sun is gone.

but we bundle up and we walk the same roads.

tonight there is no one on the streets.

doesn't it give you shivers?

and here i am again

back on my back,

back on my bed,

staring at the designs on the ceiling..

blink and they're gone,

blink and they're gone.

another useless confession

i think that sometimes you forget,

that i'm only so tall, 

so strong, 

so smart.

and i'm trying, i'm trying.

i mean it so earnestly,

i don't think i've ever meant anything more.

but it's never been this hard.

i mean it so earnestly,

i don't think i've ever meant anything more.

that, i suppose,

is 'trying' by definition.

it's choices- all choices.

i don't even make my own choices.

my choices make me.

i won't be everything.

if i could i wouldn't.

i won't be happy.

if i could i would- but it's so far out of everyone's reach.

but i will run.

i know i will run. 

i couldn't stop running if i wanted to.

and it makes me content, because i'm chasing happiness.

and what i've realized is, 

chasing something,

even if you know you will never catch it-

makes you content.

i'm going to run, and i'm going to fly.

and i will be proud.

you will be proud.

the sun will be proud and the sky will be proud.

every road i have ever walked on will be proud.

minutes and hours and days will be proud. 

the rain and the snow and the haze will be proud.

everyone and everything and every time and every place.

all proud for me,

all happy for me.

because people are only capable of being happy for someone,

never for themselves.

and i am me for me,

and i am me for you.

i am going to stare up at the clouds and know,

that someday somewhere i will be under the same sky,

in different clothes, in a different time,

but the sky is proud, and i am proud.

i am only so tall,

so strong,

so smart.

i am only so me,

i am only so happy.

and i've never meant anything more earnestly.

awake and dreaming

they say no one dreams anymore.

that's what they say.

but i do ...

i do.

aye, do.

what are dreams but eye dew?

and the time is ripe for dreaming.

the world has never been so big,

and you, you and your thoughts-

are part of something so huge.

'cause somewhere, high above our heads,

decisions are being made,

and our dreams are what makes them-

not just our dreams-

but the dream. 

there is a dream for the oceans,

and a dream for the mountains,

a dream for the sky and the clouds,

and a dream for noises and sound.

and all the dreams you've ever dreamed,

and all the lights you've ever seen.

every word on every page of every book-

and every dream in every house on every night.

this is all the dream.

this is all a dream.

such is our life built on dreams,

and such is the way of the world.

for better or for worse,

i am a dreamer.

another day

and another night,

i'm cold, and wide awake.

i have circles like bruises,

and my eyes, they never shut all the way.

it's a cold night and i am grateful,

i'm holding onto something strong.

i'm going to make it out,

i'm going to make it out. 

i apologize

for me, and for you,

and all the clouds in the sky.

i'm sorry for the city's lights,

i'm sorry for the brightness of the night.

i'm sorry you cant sleep,

and i'm sorry about your sheets.

i didn't mean to steal them,

but left alone in your house-

i got scared and took a piece of you.

i'm sorry for everything i never did.

(am i doomed to live in the past?

the regrets i feel are the regrets,

of never taking the time to regret.)

i saw you sitting there,

day after day. 

but one humans warmth can't heat the earth,

and that patch of grass- 

was just as damp and cold as the next one.

and for that, i apologize.

the security of heavy blankets

sitting in silence,

meaning is sinking into words all around me.

i feel tired and scared.

i'm covered, 

i'm covered.

such a glorious waste of sleep

growing up, wasting time-

and running away from home..

there's never enough hours in the day,

i'm going to run away,

i swear i'll run away.

i'm gonna try and catch time, 

and find a place to stay.

dear mike mulligan,

when we were little,

the sun was a mystery happily left unsolved.

if i could take one thing back,

i would never have asked where it went at night.

flying down highways in the passenger seat,

please, please, please.

bring the sun back, it's a night of blinking lights,

and crashing sounds flashing in the sky..

tell me,

where did all the stars go?

me and my absentee ballot

sometimes i get that feeling-

slowly creeping down my spine,

and i feel like i could run forever into the twilight.

as if forgetting everything i cared about

could grant me the levity to fly.

as if forgetting who i am

could give me the energy to live.

as if..

i only get this way after dark.

time can't fly because it doesn't have wings

i fall asleep sad,

and wake up indifferent.

somewhere between the dismal gray of dawn,

and 11:59 that night,

things becomes a little harder to bear.

there is nothing more miserable,

than lying awake in bed-

listening to a thousand and one lonely crickets.

change stays the same

everything is so wrong these days.

i don't know how i'm supposed to feel,

in the end i'm nothing but sad-

i can't even decide if it's a prerequisite,

or a direct consequence of a bigger thing.

i never gave any season any permission,

to swallow me and chew me up-

spitting me out the same person in different clothes.

and here i am all over again,

at the same desk, the same light,

(one of the bulbs has burned out)

wondering if ramen noodles and the early november

can get me through the fall semester..

i will give you anything,

if you could make me warm dry and lonely.

i've been so fucking emotional lately.

scaring myself, late at night

i need something,

other than legs-

to break my fall.

what if my legs are already broken?

and i don't even know it..

don't flinch

walking in, in blue clothes,

complimenting your depressing mood.

well isn't it ironic?

who the fuck knows?

is this the game where you suck the life out of me?

isn't it ironic that thoughts prefer cold damp places?

yet you insist on pulling them out.

your finger nails gouge the back of my throat,

and i still find it ironic,

that most thoughts should remain unspoken,

making it hard even to prove their existence..

i think that it might be ironic,

i've never seen someone look so sad

in such a pretty dress.

finding meaning in mansfield

remember when things were simple?

and we just wrote notes about people,

who we mildly disliked-

then passed them in class?

untitled #3

you are stronger than you will ever know.

the weight of the world rests on your shoulders-

so evenly distributed, 

it's easy to mistake it for gravity.

untitled #2

stop crying baby,
stop crying please please.
you have nothing to cry about,
please be content with your life's simplicity.

i have so many things to cry about,
that i've forgotten how to cry.

your cradle is so secure,
your world is so small.
enjoy it because it only lasts so long.

maybe babies only cry because they know how big the world actually is,
and it scares them.
i don't remember what it feels like to be that young anyway,
but it still scares me.

i hope i will be happy

i have this dream i can't stop dreaming-

where i wake up and i'm alone,

alone flying down country lanes;

i leave dust suspended in the air,

chasing storms, i fly with flair

now watch me fly,

i have never felt so alive.

untitled #1

you're beautiful-

like grass blowing in the wind,

you are beautiful.

but beautiful is such a fragile word,

and beauty is so intangible,

intangible and untouchable.

you are you,

you are beautiful.

skin and bones and a heartbeat-

you are here, 

i can touch you and i can hold you.

stand tall. don't ever blow away-

i lean on you more than you could ever know.

dirt-biking legend

this is history

this is something..

this is something so big,

i can't look at it alone.

life

made me lose my optimism.

couches for toes

i'm gonna walk the same streets tonight,

under all the same lights.

'cause i've been waiting for something-

almost all of my life.

tonight i'll try to try,

and i'll try to stand tall, more than ever before.

i'm gonna try and write your name in the sky,

and if there's room i'll also write mine.

'cause i've been waiting for this-

almost all of my life.

let's cut this talk

of getting out and leaving town-

i know you mean it,

about as much as i meant it when i said

'i'm never going home.'

big talk is the ritual of our daily lives,

but doing big things is behind us-

those days were over before they even started.

but don't tell me, and i wont tell you.

if any of us ever voiced this out loud..

(we like to be let down softly,

and we like sleeping in our own beds.)

so let's cut this talk and go home,

no doubt tomorrow will be the same.

maybe you should know

i write-

because it's far too easy to forget.

did you know, you lose a memory

every time you close your eyes?

i drag my feet-

so look at me please.

'cause someday i'm gonna figure it out.

i want you to write me a book,

full of everything i never knew-

(and all the things you never said)

'cause someday i'm gonna run away.

calvin & hobbes

sometimes i hear you,

creaking besides me-

as i climb the stairs late at night.

but you don't frighten me.

because you always whisper nice things-

in my ear,

as i drift off to sleep.

and every morning i forget that you exist.

i'm sorry.

sometimes i watch you when you sleep

i love you.

you do?

yes. lots.

i think i love you, too.

you think?

i do.

i tried too hard to stop caring

i've been waiting for a week now,

and i'm going to keep waiting for two more-

before i realize that the last thing i said to you,

was good bye.

and it was the only excuse i ever gave you-

that you actually took.

you never said another thing to me

and i've never felt so fucking dumb.

love

is only a personal need.

everyone wants to be happy right?

talk slow

i want to hear every word.

you have me,

rapt and at attention.

because i forgot everything else existed.

you have me, i don't have you.

i think i know what i want.

but by no means do i know what i want.

and sometimes i wish you would let me go.

but you have my hand,

and i don't even have yours.

sometimes i wish you'd let me go,

but in the meantime, just talk slow-

and i'll be happy.

lie to me

i'm on my knees begging.

'i love you'

now make me cry.

(and i gather raindrops,

for when the clouds go extinct.)

please?

emotivational

i could try to tell you why i'm scared.

i could also tell you the truth.

the truth is i don't even know myself,

and i'm even more scared of finding out why.

i was never anything but honest

skylines and telephone poles,

hazy summer days don't change anything.

through that haze,

the same city still lies.

wearily we stumble into the open arms of the world.

arms which welcome us and

simultaneously inspire fear in our hearts,

scared of security, terrified of change.

the people we are cut up and mangled-

forced to mingle with dreams and despair.

the people we are dying to be 

are turned to dust in the stagnant air.

i want to drop my bags

bags and baggage, i refuse to lug my luggage.

just let me curl into sleep.

i want to slide slowly into safety.

but no matter what i wish for,

the wind that carries my eyelashes away,

will never blow me back home.

i will always be a traveller.

flawed

'were too human' i thought-

as you walked away without looking back.

too human to know what's right,

and too human to fix what's wrong

'were too proud' you were thinking,

leaving the room, shutting the door.

too proud to acknowledge the truth,

but mostly too scared to see it in the first place.

'were two humans' i thought

and the most fatal of all our flaws

was expecting too much of ourselves.

you never even looked back.

thanksgiving

the sky is blue, blue like the ocean;

but really the ocean is more green.

the seaweed and low tide grime toss in the surf,

and you can smell the salt, feel it in the breeze.

the sky is turning dark red on the edges

and the clouds are tinged with bloody hues;

that moment of suspended twilight before dusk.

the old beat up jeep is also 'blue'

in reality it is more of a dark navy

with rust creeping around the edges of the doors.

the one that, after crawling along sandy beach roads,

grinds to a stop just below the dunes.

and a man gets out, followed by his dog.

the dog has a brown collar on,

the exact same color as the man's shorts.

his dog runs off, head down, ears back,

in that way that you really appreciate every muscle

and how they contort to propel him with such force,

down the beach, spraying sand in the air.

the seagulls don't take long to admire his speed,

taking flight less gracefully, they squawk,

leaving the dog panting, looking to the sky.

his owner is sitting, his forearms resting on his knees;

'why isn't he at home with his family?' i think

and as he listens to the rush and slow ebb of the waves, 

i hear it too. 'why aren't  at home with mine?'

it's thanksgiving, and no one is on the beach.

the dog ambles back to his owner,

with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

the man doesn't fly away.

a conversation: probably with a girl

one of your eyelashes was perched precariously,

and i watched it shake and flutter.

one askew hair in an otherwise perfect line.

and i watched your lips, hoping you didn't notice

that i wasn't exactly looking you in the eye.

your mouth twitched, i stopped talking

but you didn't say anything, and we sat there silent.

i was still looking at your lips. i stopped.

looking at my belt, i followed a line in my corduroys

until i lost it in the chaos of wrinkles around my knee.

focusing on an ant next to my thigh, i watched it

and it walked with a perverse sense of direction.

i wondered if it knew it's way home.

rubbing your eyes, you got to your feet.

you walked away, i watched the soles of your shoes,

and on the ground next to me i saw your eyelash.

suddenly i realized i knew every inch of your face.

and the sun was going down, subtly.

there was no splendid sunset, just gradual gray

casting the longest shadows down the sidewalk.

growing up

is just a slow process of forgetting everything you care about.

3 am

the later it gets, the more scared i am,

of the sun coming up, and being one day older.

do you think i'm an insomniac?

maybe all insomniacs are just scared of how short life is.

i mean after all, it's already tomorrow.

i guess i just want to say thanks

you bring out the best in me.

and i also wanted to say goodnight-

i don't think i could fall asleep if i didn't.

happy

i have this theory on happiness and it goes something like this:

people can spend their entire lives searching for a feeling that doesn't actually exist.

they think they are searching for happiness, when in reality happiness is the feeling they get when they think they are close to finding that feeling.

happiness is the feeling that keeps you hanging on searching for this intangible idea,

and happiness is also the feeling that prevents you from ever being fully happy because since you think you're so close to catching it, you convince yourself there's always something more.

how ironic.

shorts

yesterday

brought me back to a time,

when we broke bottles in the parking lot

and slept on each others floors.

we broke bottles on the floor too.

and when you held my hand,

under streetlights,

i almost ran away.

i hate bottles.

telling time

when you blow into a balloon you're only filling it with words,

and i keep sand in my pockets so i don't forget yesterday when it's tomorrow.

high windows on asylum

outside my window,

the city is always breathing,

and i'm more than a little scared.

that shirt you left behind two years ago doesn't even smell like you anymore.

new years

on new years day

we all get a second chance.

maybe today i will change my clothes.

broken machines

the clouds keep moving through the sky-

i'll never be satisfied.

i won't stop running,

tell me not to worry.

read my poetry,

on the subject of hating everything,

and other stuff occasionally.

hope you like it!