Saturday, March 19, 2011

lies in the making

i used to work in.
i had my little studio that was hiding in a dark corner,
to hide all of my dark corners.
i hid and i made myself over and over and over again.
i made and i dripped and i scrubbed and you did not know where i was.
you did not know where i was.
you did not know because i was hiding,
i was hiding in my dark corner
making myself

i see god

dream of life, in a giant bubble


i know that i'm thinking four steps ahead; and i know that you're thinking three behind me. i know that you loved me once; and i know that, it was too much but then it wasn't enough. you shattered me to a fine powder, undistinguishable. you scattered what was left in the rain with your bare feet; leaving me a mucky washed away, sad excuse for a paste. you stopped when i had only begun; but i burned you. i rose up and turned what was left of your memory into ash, nothing more then what's at the bottom of a fireplace or the foundation of a house fire. you crackled under my feet and smeared the concrete black with your ruddy remnants. leaving nothing more than a gross stain; because that's what you left, a gross stain; but don't worry baby, i'm scrubbin, just wait, soon you'll be gone.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

my slightly enraged letter to you tonight

your smile goes down
instead of up
you think that you can fool with your falsified joy
with your falsified closeness
with you fake
whiskey laden
smooth sounding
velvety rough words
i've found you out
you think i'm a fool
but i've found you out
i see you playing pretend
in all the worst ways you play
you play with your toys and you get bored with your toys and you go get new toys and you forget it's me that was your toy
more you forget what pretending is supposed to be
pretending isn't to smile upside down and trick people
pretending is finding magic castles and secret hidden stories,
it's for the childlike and for the children
not for the scoundrels and the liars and the scum
it's finding our youth once again

so get the fucking backwards smile off your face and face the things that aren't in your fake world, things that don't bend to your seemingly gross will things that will challenge you and force you to grow
don't stop growing
don't stop learning,
you're better than that
i know it
and that's just coming from me
one that was once just a toy

Thursday, January 27, 2011


i'm afraid to look at something beautiful for too long
i'm afraid that all the beautiful things will eventually make me sad

Monday, January 24, 2011


they want to talk like home is some remembrance for the future
snapping songs through eyes like they're real
when their boots know they'll sleep unkindly
as whiskey just drinks
and we don'

Thursday, October 14, 2010

on occasion

sometimes i'm too much of a sob story for my own good