Drug Abuser

(written May 31, 2008)

Another sleepless night
Free of things that go bump
In the night

I want drugs
So bad I can remember the
Sensory perception of being on them

I want to be knocked out
But I don't want to have
Vague memories of trying to
Pull an IV out of my arm
While family and doctors
Keep an eye on the
Drug abuser

I just want to sleep
To not think
To not dream
To just float away

I want, I want, I want

Closed eyes put pain to it
As though mocking the idea of sleep
So I lay awake staring
At the ceiling, at nothing
For yet another hour

Everyone

(written July 23, 2008)

Not every thought
Can make a poem,
Turn its conception in chaos
To a brilliant white light,
A Beacon of truth.

Not every word
Is meant to be spoken,
The hurtful ones least of all
Because you can't take them back,
Even when you ask for forgiveness.

Not every song
Should be played
Loud and long
Some are soft as rose petals,
They need a gentle touch.

But every person--
Everyone can be loved.

Love and Luck

(written July 23, 2008)

Legs of mutilated hope
And a cap from an empty bottle of pills:
Klonopin, it reads.

It feels as though I've spent half my days
Waiting for a name to turn from gray to black.

Time spent staring at the walls
And a sign to remind me:
Take your fucking pills.

It feels as though I've spent half my days
Wasting away this life I've been given.

Black on white--permanent ink
And marks you can't wash away:
Whore, they yell.

It feels as though I've spent half my days
Writing out these letters, verbs, and nouns.

Hair removal to purge memory
And a drawn-on wedding ring on my marriage finger:
Flash it with pride.

It feels as though I've spent half my days
Out of love and luck.

Love Song

(written July 23, 2008)

Strike a chord for harmony
Then strike one for love
And soon you'll have a melody
That dreams are made off of.

Play a tune of empathy
Then play one of heartbreak
And soon you'll have them crying,
Crying out their love.

Dream a dream of chemistry
Then dream a dream of true love
And soon you'll have a reality
That ideals are built on.

So strike a chord,
Play a tune,
Dream a dream,
And remember...

Foolish dreams are the dearest,
As are songs of love.

Failing

(written July 22, 2008)

You were a pretty lie
Held onto because none
Is prettier than this--

This dream I had of you and I

But dreams fail
And we found out it wasn't what we
Wanted anyway

But still, it remains a pretty thing
A thing of value
Perhaps, in some alternate dimension,
We ended up together, you and I

Perhaps we grew old together
Had children, who then blessed us
With grand-children

But perhaps we wouldn't have had normal--
Our passions always did run high
And your dreams, they were always bigger than mine.

Would I have been swept along on your current?
Always going somewhere bigger and better
Than the last fantastic place?
Or would I have been swept aside,
Like so much dirt marring your perfect days?

And tell me--
I want to know,
Would I still be me
After you were through
Chasing all those dreams?

I think it's best
That we parted ways
But I can still recognize
The value of such a lie.
Such a pretty lie.

Q-doba

(written July 22, 2008)

I'm sitting in Q-doba watching
the rain pelt the pavement.
The wind swings the street lights
As they turn from red to green
And back again.

I wish I was anywhere
But here,
Sitting across from you

I don't mind the rain
I don't even mind getting wet
But I can't sit here,
Hold a conversation,
And not wish I was somewhere else.

The light is red
And I'm hanging by a thread
Now it's yellow
Warning me to slow it down
And green--
Green as grass after a rain,
It reminds me that I love you

But there's only so much love
It can't get you by on its own
So I sit here
Red, yellow, green
And wish I was anywhere else.

Spice

(written July 22, 2008)

Expanded waist-line
And wasted time
How I wish the
Skies were gray

January again
The freezing time
Lost selves
New allies

But still--
That waist-line

Perhaps when the
Skies are gray
I'll cease to think
In phrase

But July--
Blue skies
Brings new delights
Like lilacs in the shade

Variety is the spice of life

Memory-keeper, Soul-seeker

(written July 5, 2008)

I write because one day I will not be able to
I will not be able to remember,
So I write.
I will not be able to lift my hand without it shaking,
So I write.
I will not be able to think as clearly as I can now,
So I write.

My writing is a record
A recording
I write to find the patterns, the means, the themes

I want as much of this life as I can to be written down
Because then and only then can I make some sense of it

My writing is a living will
A living determination
I write to find the discipline to write

Even when it feels like I lack
Determination or Discipline, or both
I write.

My writing is a testament
A testimony
I write to find the truth--inside me, inside you

I write because there is never enough truth between you and me
Because I yearn for a truth so bright
That it would shine like gold from the page

I write because to not write would break my heart

I write from the land of milk and honey
Of plentiful and never enough
I am a memory-keeper, a soul-seeker
I write from a well that never runs dry
And my cup, it runneth over.