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!