Distortion: A Collection of Original Poetry Pieces by Dwayne Williamson

Iris

2008-03-25T16:47:00.001-05:00

I know my blood flows through your veins, and your soon to be four year old words still struggle for a meaning.....like your father
I don't expect for poetry to cross counties or make apologizes to cradle you through your nightmares
But I do still pray for arms that reach for miles to make shadow puppets on your walls that fight the evil blanket over the chair monster
Or at least to be able to hold you when I haven't seen you for months
But instead you're being raised by empty fingertips and broken promises
Restless nights and ignored responsibilities
The most precious thing on the face of the planet being drowned under tear drops and whiskey shots
And since I can't give you everything you deserve
I feel ashamed when I give you all I can
Because it still kills me every time I call you
"Hi sweetheart, it’s Daddy
No, this your other daddy, your real daddy"
The one that expected used guitar strings to mend together our broken home
The one that wasn't there because he had to chase his dreams every night with Lone Stars and cheap talk
All for a show in a dank hole in the wall once or twice a month where he could twist his cowardice through screams and amplifiers
And now everything is distorted and I can't just turn it off
I wrote a song to play for you at night but now it just hurts to sing it
Because I strum regrets so hard that my fingers bleed and my ears never stop ringing dissonance
I always wanted to be the cool musician parent but I've only become the blanket over the chair monster
A shadow that only lurks in the corners of your life
Always present but never really visible
An outline of what a man should be
A figment of a father who was blessed with a beautiful daughter but even with all these hopes in my heart, I can't materialize my convictions
I’m a ghost of pretty words without a real meaning and you’re discovering new ones every day
Soon you'll be big enough to actually hold a conversation, so what do I say when you ask why I'm not around
Or when you're 16 and you stab me with every excuse that fumbled its way out of my mouth
Even now your voice so distant on a phone line asks me "what are you doing Daddy"
And I don't know, sweetheart
I'm sorry, but I don't know
All I know is that I miss you terribly
And I've never felt anything worse than the day I woke up without you there
I'm the remains of a man that holds your love in his hands like a drunk
And I was never prepared, so since you were born I've been struggling to make myself man enough
I want you to know that you were never a mistake but I can't say the same for everything that I've done
So please.........please believe that I am trying to muster the strength to crush mountains, so you can walk on level plains

Love Letters

2008-02-15T01:45:00.004-06:00

I ran out of words
My speech turned off cause it decided that I already gave it all that I've got and its about time I man up
And I need to make some kind of move because I can only speak in vowels now
Aaaa....eee......I.....oh.......you do something to me that I can't describe
Its like I'm back in elementary school searching the playground for you from my perch at the top of the slide
And you hide from me on purpose cause you just want me to chase you and graze your arm when I tag you
And you know what sugar, you're it
You're the one thats got me reciting rules and rhymes in our two door classroom
Reviewing every love letter that I stitch together making sure I don't say something the wrong way
And I remember that its I before E except after seeing you the way you looked at me from my passenger seat
You got me wishing we were sitting in a tree........K I S S I N G
But the way you worked that tongue in my mouth reminds me that we're adults now and the thoughts that follow can only be catagorized with a letter that comes near the end of the alphabet
And I've never been so exhausted by just one kiss
When I was finally able to fight myself away from your lips we rested against each other panting like we'd just competed in the fucking Ironman tournament
It took years of cycling through the thoughts that ran in the back of my mind before this moment where I could swim through your eyes and fall over spent and content in front of your doorstep
Sprint to the end of your reflected smile for miles, hand over hand crawl through a waste land, just to get up and walk again to find the way to form words without my tongue tripping out of my mouth
And you might laugh at these guns but I've been working out a reasonable excuse to make the drive to you
I'm fully loaded, cocking the hammer to take another shot at your heart, and it might be just a shot in the dark
Cause they say that love is blind and it feels like you just turned off ALL the fucking lights
But I still feel you near me from the way you radiate like the moon
And I could be saying all of this waaaay too soon, but I can't stop thinking about you
I know you're in another city now and maybe if I cross my fingers and close my eyes you could hear me somehow
Cause when everything stopped and you wanted to crawl into my head to pull out what was getting caught
I was just trying to find a way to say.....
That I'm madly in love with you
And I know you lost your wings long ago but if you can find your way to my doorstep I can learn to sew your feathers back on
And I'll hold you with the strength that the dirt grips your toes
Because even the Earth knows that you're far too beautiful to ever let go

18 Years

2008-02-10T01:28:00.000-06:00

18 Years
18 Years
18 Years of every Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night
18 Years of searching
18 Years of believing that you could be lurking behind every impure thought I ever had
18 Years
Those wooden church pews have indentions from my arms, kneeling over them praying for a sign, hoping that you would talk back when I spoke to you in my mind
18 Years of nothing
Nothing but a family tree that was cut down by my forefathers to be reconstructed as a cross
Generations that nailed themselves into a legacy because they devoted their lives to a one sided mind in fear of an eternity of flames
A heritage of forgotten names that did nothing significant in their lives because they only worshipped you and worked just enough to survive
And I'm a disappointment to them, because I can't see a reason to follow the same path with mine
I'm tired of the division between my parents and I because we can't see eye to eye on a specter of faith, a ghost that only manifests itself between the lines of dusty Bibles and worn out hymnals, a scarlet letter burned into my forehead by my family members because they've been taught that a measure of a man can be answered in one question
Do you believe in God?
And if for no other reason than the sake of being fully accepted by my parents
I want to believe
I want to believe
I want to fucking believe
They remind me that I don't have see the wind to know it exists, I can feel it
But I don't feel you
I just feel bad
I feel bad for everything that I can actually see
I feel bad for every broken home and father that beat their daughter as she cried out to you asking for it to stop
Every rapist that invaded a woman's body because he didn't have the standard human decency to know that it was wrong
Every television channel that I turn on to see another story of a student that brought a gun to school and shot five of his classmates, painting over the academic plaques and football trophies that line the hallways with their blood
And the countless other murders that just occurred in the time that it took for me to bring that up
I want to believe
I want to believe that you didn't just create mankind so you could watch it fall apart
I want to believe that you can hear this, the closest thing I've had to a prayer in the last 7 years
Our Father who art in heaven, show me how to believe
Cause my father who is on earth can’t look me in the eyes without questioning what he sees
But I’m right here
You hear me?
25 Years now and I’m still right here
Still the trembling little boy on his knees begging for my fathers to accept me
Either show me your wrath or bless me with your presence
I’m telling you to kill me or fill me with this holy spirit I’ve only heard about
I’ve open my eyes as wide as I can and stared into your silent void until I almost went blind
Now I’m asking for you for the millionth time to give me the fucking sign
25 Years now
25 Years

Bones

2008-02-09T02:15:00.000-06:00

This is your skin
This is your skin against me
And this is the reaction to something as simple as a hug that lasted too long cause we needed to feel our bodies pressed together
And I was just a skeleton in your closet that crawled out into your parking lot to move to the rhythm of your nervous heart beat and the possibilities of how your presence can flesh out these bones into something real
Something true
Something that could be waiting for me everyday that I could come home to
But metaphors don't do justice to anything I'd want to say
All I could do is grab you and put everything I have into my lips to try to push his kiss out of the way
And I don't want to step on toes, but its hard not to when I dance with your image all day
Come rest your head and let me capture you in my rib cage, cause for the last five years there has been a vacant spot since I let you walk out
Lying placid in my indifference, hollow, and completely absent minded
I couldn’t view beyond the interior of my own eyelids to see what I was missing
But as I stand here naked in my regret, the weight of the past sits directly on my chest
I feel it almost cave in, with the heavy sighs that erupt from my diaphragm
Echoing with the memory of your eyes that pry into my own, pristine hazel tones, that vibrate through my mind every second till its the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night
I need to deconstruct your frame and rebuild it, so I can know every inch of your insides
Every part of your body, Every hill and valley, Every imperfection that makes you radiate as a whole
Every human piece that reminds me of what I wake up for
What I could wake up to
I need to fall in love with every bit of your form
I could drive to you and wait outside your door every night for an answer with the sound of footsteps like earthquakes thundering behind a wooden barrier
They tremble in the same motion that my nerves ripple through my limbs
I could cast shadows that blanket you in your bed and work their hands under the small of your back reminding you that you don't have to fall so fast
Cause I've waited
I've waited
And I'm still waiting to give you these bones so I could linger in your flesh

Kick in the Ass

2008-01-28T16:45:00.001-06:00

I start speaking and the timer jumps and I got three minutes to show everyone else up and thats the way a lot of people look at it
Strictly speaking this is a competition, its designed as a poet's test to grind out the rest into the audience to watch the second round progress into the best
Which is to say that it usually loses me before the final three
And maybe its because there's a lot of people out there that don't like what I write or the way I usually perform in an aggressive tone or how I'm making a second grade effort right now to make this piece rhyme or at least flow
But I started doing this shit because of I had something to say and I'd bet everything I own that there's at least one person here today that has never slammed before but everytime they hear it they get a feeling in their gut and an urge to step up but they haven't yet
So those of you out there, you know who you are, pay very close attention to my words
What the fuck are you waiting for?
For this brief period of time this mic is mine, but once I walk off it could be yours
Thats not intended to be a challenge to you, its an invitation
I want you to bring in those pieces of paper you've been hiding in your desk drawers
It doesn't matter if its another piece about someone that broke your heart or your day at work or how much you love bacon
Cause you need to stop thinking that the only poetry that matters is the stuff that tries to change the world
I'm tired of people crying about a personal revolution, its not going to fucking happen
And yeah, that sounds great, but if you really wanted to make an impact you wouldn't just be spitting words at locals in a bar, so what are you really writing for
Yourself or a high score
So don't dare mistake this as some kind of plea to shake up the slam or a request to be your inspiration and become your best friend
Cause there's a very good chance that I could think your poetry sucks
But keep in mind I'm also an ass because I don't have the tact to be anything other than honest in every aspect
So you can trust I'm speaking the truth when I say that I respect every person that has the guts to get up and share their stuff with a crowd thats going to judge you
Now this is your kick in the ass, cause some of you need it
I know I did, and if any of you need the same kind of push that I got we can exchange numbers after this and I can fuck you over too
And you can come back here every week with a new piece trying to be better than me till it wears off and you quit writing like you got something to prove
You can learn the same lesson that I did, stop trying to earn a place, and just say what you want to say
Fuck the scores, fuck your fears, and fuck anyone that might have anything negative to relay about your performance up here
I'm not going to blow smoke up your ass or wipe your tears, but if you come talk to me afterwards I'll shake your hand and see you next week

Sentences Behind Your Eyes

2008-01-23T16:06:00.000-06:00

I didn't want to march outside and change your world
I just wanted to get out of bed
I didn't want to blow your mind with these words
I just wanted you to let me sit inside your head and catch fragments of thoughts like refridgerator magnets and arrange them into sentences behind your eyes
Now close them and read this with me
I don't want to be your savior anymore
I never wanted you to look up to me
I wanted you to level with me
I wanted you to realize that you're worth much more than you give yourself credit for
I didn't lose myself in your skin because of the make up you wear, or your new shoes, or the way you fixed your hair
Its cause sometimes your words would float in the air and I breathed them in
Till they came back out of my fingertips in uncontrollable bursts like when I wrote this
I wish you could march inside and change my mind
I wish you didn't feel so alone with a thorn in your side
Now close your eyes
I don't want to be your devastator anymore
Stop calling me
Stop calling me cause I can't stop picking up
Your voice is the cigerette after I just quit
I need to hold it in my lungs
And exhale back into the phone
I admit to the truth
I say things you shouldn't hear right now
Of course I miss you
But I have to hang up sometime soon
I have to disconnect from you
But you never say goodbye
You just fall asleep on the line
And I still listen to you breathe when you do
Now close your eyes
I don't want to love you anymore
But I still get that knot in my stomach and that knock on my door
Two AM and you can't sleep without me
And I can't say no
So here you are
Asleep in my bed again
I'm just waiting to burn the sheets and wash off your fingerprints when I trace words into your curves
Everything that I should have already said
A confession of half truths and little white lies that starts with "I wish" and ends with "good bye"
Now open your eyes
I'm sorry
Even though that word means nothing to you anymore

A Routine Mission

2008-01-21T21:39:00.000-06:00

It was supposed to be a routine mission
A one man operation that would only take an evening
Then I report back to the rendezvous point with the boys and have a few cold ones
But something went wrong
Next thing I know a fever falls over me while I'm in that jungle and I'm trapped
When I came to that cup of chicken noodle soup was just sitting there staring at me
It taunted me, an angry tiger pacing in front of me with vegetables and pasta dripping from it's jaws
And I was in a bamboo cage with it
There was no use entertaining the thought of escaping, for it would take much more effort to fight what was outside of this cell than to wage battle with the rabid animal inside
So I sat up and grabbed it with my two bare hands and fought it down my throat, each mouthful taking swipes in my gut and trying to crawl back up
I could only wrestle with it for so long before I had to retreat back to my corner and lay down
Let the beast settle in my stomach, for its roar was threatening to find its way back out
Then the orange juice slithered into my peripheral vision
Oh God, the orange juice
This technicolor cobra that snuck into my corner while I was resting
Oh, you slippery mother fucker, don't tell me I have to deal with you too
And I could hear foreign tongues screaming wagers around me while I was drenched in sweat with a washrag that weighed down on my forehead like a blood stained bandanna
And they raddled the bars and reminded me it was coming
They screamed for me to end them or it was coming
And I knew it, but I didn't even want to look at those creatures
My stomach turned over when I just thought about finishing them
I couldn't do it......just needed rest..........just needed sleep
Then all the voices fell silent, and there was a shuffle of feet as the crowd opened up and fell down on their knees
And the cobra and the tiger gathered next to the wall where the ground was displayed and a figure cloaked in a terry cloth robe walked down the path to my cage
A voice came from under the curlers and the bifocals and said "you didn't eat your soup"
And I said "Nooooo"
And the voice said "you didn't drink your liquids"
And I said "Nooooo"
And the voice said "are you cold, do you need another blanket"
And I said "mom, please, I feel like hell, can you just let me sleep?"
And she said "You're not going to feel any better unless you get vitamins."
And I said "Well the vitamins don't help if I can't keep them down."
And she said "Do you want to watch something else on TV, how about something educational like the Discovery channel?"
And I said "please, mother, I just want to discover what happens when I close my eyes"
I crawled out of there on Sunday afternoon, well fed and emasculated
I like to think I just forgot what dignity is.........rather than losing it

Shine

2008-01-14T21:00:00.000-06:00

There's openings of black sky midnights that separates your beauty marks, stretching over expanses of unexplored canvas I'd like to design
Use my fingertips like paintbrushes decorating landscapes that illustrate the maps inside my mind
Design a pathway to a mansion with 56 floors, each one filled with portraits of years that came before, pictures that don't feature people but just emotions, that glow and move on their own
And when we reach the roof we can touch the heavens and pull the essence from the night so you hold it in your eyes and I can watch you shine
Burn embroidered signatures into the depths of our chests that say that I belonged to you until death
And you can shine like a star that only wakes after dusk
You can shine and write love letters to our children on the clouds in stardust and whisper fragments of half the love I've been privileged to receive into them and let it rain down
And you can shine a light that reflects like God's smile glowing off the tops of oceans of love potions that swallow the hearts of men and women, intertwining with the blood in their veins till they shine like a lighthouse in torrential rain
And the dust of our bones will drift past the villages of witches and undeserving princes
Past the boroughs of three heads dogs and two inch tall tree dwelling elves
Past the fields of iocane powder and life waging Sicilian men
Past a world of enchanted wonders that no one thought to be true, just as no one thought it was possible to love you the way I do
So marry me in a kingdom past a portal to another world through a gap a in stone wall
After I announce myself to the six fingered man who killed my father and challenge him to a duel
And slay a dragon that holds a ruby for a heart so that I can ask an eight foot tall blacksmith with arms like tree trunks to fashion it onto a ring for you
Then provide the horns on the alter of an elder God who will carry me back on a gust of wind
And I can live off the fairy tales I created on your skin

Brian Young

2008-01-04T18:47:00.000-06:00

When Melinda Young was nine months pregnant she looked like she could burst at any moment
She was already a small pale woman and with a little being tucked in her guts the skin over her stomach was stretched to the point that it almost looked transparent
It was as though you only had to breathe on that belly and rub the heat off to get a window to the tiny driver inside
She was transformed into a mobile snow globe displaying a jiggle'n little elf next to a gingerbread house illuminated by a plastic ray of sunshine
And that thought made me smile
It made Melinda smile too when I told her
When Brian Young made his entrance into the world Melinda made her exit
Died right in the middle of child birth, never even got to see the blues in that boy's eyes
She was a single mother and her father Jacob took custody of him after that
Jacob was a crabby old bastard that shook so bad he spilled half his whiskey when he poured it into a glass
When he would sit outside in his rocker and I was feeling particularly cruel I would find amusement in watching how long it took him to find his mouth when he'd take a sip
I heard he was a pretty decent guy before his wife passed
I also heard he was a sniper in Vietnam and once crawled through the grass for two days just to get a shot on some unlucky high ranking officer or something
Then he spent the next two days just edging himself back
I don't know if there is any truth to that cause from what I saw he hardly ever left the house
Around the time Brian turned six he started terrorizing the neighbors cat after running outside wearing only a pair of Superman undies and a blanket with cigarette burns wrapped around his neck like a cape
I'd hear him scream "this looks like a job for"
Which was usually followed by Jacob yelling "stop running around dressed like a goddamn queer and get your ass inside"
One day I caught Brian bolting out the door with his two piece costume on and right in the middle of his catch phrase he tripped over a rock
He immediately crumbled over and balled himself up, crocodile tears running down his little cheeks
And I swear to God I've never seen an old man move that fast, swept him up and rocked him in his arms, gave him a big kiss on the cheek and carried him in
I walked past the house once while that old badger was sitting out said hi and asked him how he was doing
And he just glared at me with his glass in the air fishing around for his lips
I was sure that asshole had enough piss and vinegar left to keep him alive and puckered for the next 50 years
About a week later I realized that the neighbor's cat had the courage to venture outside again so I asked around and found out that Jacob died
He was found laid out on the kitchen floor with a fifth of Old Crow in his hand, most of it sprinkled around the glass on the counter above him
I don't know what happened to Brian but if he grows up to be anything like his grandfather I'm sure that little prick is going to be a senator or something
And that thought makes me smile when I think about it
I bet that would make Melinda smile too

Rick and Donna

2007-12-26T19:28:00.000-06:00

I'm pre heating the oven for a pizza when I see my upstairs neighbors, Rick and Donna, walking their dog in the back lot
Rick and Donna, the perfect little poster children for twenty something love
Rick and Donna, golden athletic statues with the perfectly groomed little dog
Models for the sappiest fucking magazine cover you've ever had the opportunity to gag over
I fucking hate them
I hear them having glorious sex right over my ceiling almost every night
I can hear their bed posts grinding trenches into their hardwood floor
Rick pounding her as if HER life depended on it, like her vagina was dying and he was giving it CPR
And he always laughs when he comes
This exhausted, "I can't believe I just came that hard" kind of laugh
The "I can't believe the sex is that fucking good" kind of laugh
The sound of it just bleeds down into my bedroom below
And I start hearing the "you don't even remember what this feels like anymore" kind of laugh
I hear the "hows that hand working out for you" kind of laugh
I hear the exaggerated last chuckle of Rick as he rolls off her sweat drenched body echo around my empty walls
Donna just lying motionless, glistening with liquid sex shimmering off her Olympic abs
Both of them sporting carefree bed suave hair styles that say "I just had an orgasm like a prison riot"
I fucking hate them
Just one night I'd like to replace the cries of pleasure as two lovers satisfy each other in every way they desire
Instead I want to hear dishes being thrown, obscenities being shouted, and open palms meeting the gruff terrain of Rick's rugged poster boy cheek
I want to hear doors slamming, and sirens approaching while the smoke alarm is going off
I want to walk outside in my robe with a cup of coffee just in time to see the dog run out with his ass end on fire while Donna chases him with a blanket and tries to put him out
And Rick stumbles outside naked hacking up a lung with bottles of creatine and protein shakes wedged between his beefy arms
Donna bellowing about her neuvo plush couch being ruined while Rick's using a copy of Meathead magazine to cover up his shrived little cock
And still arguing, all the while, beautiful hate fulled arguing while I take another sip and breathe it in before the cops show up to work out this whole mess
After which I walk into my bedroom with a huge shit eating grin because I can finally jerk off without any jealous disdain and sleep for the next two fucking days
And I laugh hysterically to myself
When my roommate comes into the kitchen to find out what is so goddamn funny
And I realize I've just been staring at them for the last ten minutes when he asks me if I know that the oven is on

Little Ray of Sunshine

2007-12-18T17:13:00.001-06:00

When I met you, I saw you as the yin to my yang
Me being the brooding little musician poet that I am and you were the bright little ray of sunshine that lightened up my days
Every moment I saw you becoming more focused and intense until you set me on fire
Like a Great White concert you engulfed me in a flame that caused me to burn circles into my carpet screaming in pain until I bolted through the doorway leaping into traffic until one happens to nail me and my head becomes severed by the windshield and lands in the passenger's lap when a rainbow sprouts from my neck and a leprechaun jumps out of my ass which makes as much as sense as why I fell for you in the first place
You pretentious, flaky, hippie bitch
But there were those moments when you uplifted my spirits to heights I've never seen
Helping me fly you were the wind beneath my wings
Soaring to elevations that I never thought possible till I left the atmosphere and suffocated from the lack of oxygen, plummeting back to the earth like comet when I landed on your cloud of illusions receiving a handful of hand jobs and bottle of booze where I gained the enlightenment of the men that you used, which you so fondly refer to as "history", but the last time I opened a history book I didn't see a listing of everyone that Abraham Lincoln fucked
Since we're on the subject of history lets get down to some facts
Hilary Hanson is an eighteen year-old poet from Rockport, Maine. Her favorite things to do are looking at the stars, shopping and making cookies and cupcakes. Her loves include rocky beaches and poetry by Edna St. Vincent Millay.
She of course shares some similarities in hobbies and even name to one of our own Austin poets, who is a magnificent woman and has absolutely nothing to do with this poem
The point that I'm making here is that love is a hydra with a barb wire laced vagina and nine heads that grows two more for everyone that you cut off so if you're fucking and fighting every head that you're facing your going to find yourself devoured by the mob that's replacing the last worthless battle that you just spent on a serpents kiss when you should really just go home and jerk off
Speaking of jerk offs
Dwayne Williamsburg is a forty three year old investment banker in Blue Peak, Washington. His favorite things include taking long walks on the beach, listening to Kenny G, cliches, and sacrificing small animals to our lord Satan
He of course shares a love of some hobbies and a similar name to myself, Dwayne Williamson, who is speaking completely in third person on the topic of this piece, which is definitely not referring to any one woman that may or may not be present in this room
But love is a sensitive subject that should never be swept under a rug by a broom, you approach it head on without leaving out any of the truth, but some people are just ashamed of how they met, telling everyone that they ran into each other in a coffee shop instead of over the Internet, which seems really odd to me, but how would I know I’ve never done anything of the sort, but sometimes there are statements that deserve a retort, so you shouldn’t be surprised when unmentionable words come back around to bite you in the ass, so everyone raise your glass and toast the past because little white lies are never going to last , and one day someone is going point out the cracks in your mask, but it won’t be me…….because I don’t know anyone I could write something like that for, but its kind of fun to write poems pretending like you do, right sweet pea?

Things You Need to Understand Before You Date Me

2007-12-17T00:07:00.000-06:00

Things you need to understand before you date me:
The stereo in my car is the stereo in MY car, which means that I control what we listen to while we're in it
This of course means that you can have full dictatorship over the musical selection in your vehicle, however I still reserve the right to pout silently in the passenger seat
While I probably won't be listening to your favorite band I will attempt to find something that you might enjoy, but if you decide to torture me in your car with Ani Di Franco or anything in the weekly top 40, expect to hear the most brutal death metal ever the next time you sit down in mine
Now there's only one volume level on my speakers, and that's as loud as fucking possible, if you even entertain the thought of trying to turn it down I suggest you say something to me first, so that I may pull over and provide you the opportunity to leave on your own free will
Otherwise, godspeed, sweetheart, and remember its best to tuck and roll
If I actually like you a lot and you manage to decrease the volume while remaining in the car, realize that while the music will dissipate, the level at which I'm singing will not
Most likely I'll also begin to sing as horribly as possible, until you relent from my off key audio assault and turn the music back up
In the case that you have something to say, unless its "Oh god, my appendix is about to burst", there is no need to interrupt me in the middle of Love Gun
You can wait till the end of the song
Now trust is an integral part of any relationship and you should understand that my trust is both conditional and situational
Meaning that as long as the conditions of the situation that you find yourself in is nothing I should be concerned about, then we'll be just fine
However, if you are one of the kinds of girls that likes to get black out drunk in clubs filled with frat guys that take shots from between your tits, then you can back that ass up and out my fucking door
It is also very important that you know where you want to eat, or at least be able to provide suggestions of things you would enjoy, not just a list of what you DON'T want
Because this isn't a crime investigation where we need to eliminate suspects, I'm fucking hungry, and if you can't pick something, we're going to get a big fat greasy meat burger with extra meat and a side of meat where you can't complain because of all the meat in your mouth
Moving on, when evening finds us completely exhausted from bringing you to climax repeatedly, and we actually go to sleep, I don't want find a leg in my hip or an elbow in my back as you try to push me off the face of the map
Cause bedtime is sometimes like playing Risk, and if I'm forced to huddle up in Australia its only a matter of time before my forces build and I sweep the board
But most importantly......I'm going to compliment and kiss you more than you ever have been before
And every time your lips meet mine you're going to know that there's nowhere else I'd rather be, because hell if you can manage to put up with me, then you deserve to be treated like a queen
And as long as you can give what you get, then that's more than enough to keep me happy

Hands

2007-12-09T23:25:00.000-06:00

I awake at 6am and roll out of bed
I'm not even fully functioning this early and still having fragments of dreams drift aimlessly through the fog in my head
I perform all the regular routines, like showering, brushing my teeth, and debating on leaving quickly or actually taking the time to eat breakfast and being late for my job
But on this morning after everything was said and done I reached for my doorknob to realize that a hand was attached to my right wrist with nothing following it, just a hand
White as death, with fingers flexing themselves into my flesh, and tattooed on its dirty, pale knuckles was the word "rent"
And of course I was extremely startled by this and immediately used my left hand to attempt to pry it off my skin
But there on my other wrist was another hand with the exact same appearance only this one had the word "work" marked on it
When I pulled them their elongated fingernails only sank deeper in, and hitting them against other objects did nothing to loosen their grip
I was in a blind panic when I tried running into the kitchen to find a sharp instrument to cut them free
When something prevented my left foot from moving and sent me crumbling to my knees
I looked back to find another independent appendage with the word "hate" carved into its length
Then I feel the pressure of another skeletal vice latched onto my right and the word "fear" runs into my sight
I stand only to be hit off balance, falling backwards, impacting with the floor and sprawling myself out across the Welcome mat next to the door
There on my chest is another five fingered guest with the word "stress" inked across its expanse
Pushing down with an amazing force keeping me nailed in place while the others pull my limbs in opposite ways
I scream for them to stop when I hear the sounds of my bones pop, as they drop from their sockets and fill the empty space with a pain both red and hot
Then in the moment I'm about to completely lose it, just break down, and hope to die
An army of arms burst from my gut and effortlessly start to brush all the hands aside
Wrapping themselves around me they envelop me in a grace that denies the fates that played out around me
Soundless parts of bodies enamoring me, strengthening me, pulling the pieces together and restructuring me
And etched into each of their forearms are words like family, friends, music, poetry, integrity, hope, honesty, and love
My armor for the outside world, my coat of arms, my defiance of any force that intends to hold me down and bring me harm
Bulletproof charms that circle my torso and deflect clips of antithesis that barrel towards my heart
They are my unspoken support beams and foundations cemented in art
So when I get overwhelmed and torn apart
I can still stand up, dust myself off, and walk out that door

She Reads Books

2007-12-03T23:02:00.001-06:00

She reads books about things that can never be understood
Books that explain explanations, words that explore explorations, and debates that debate deliberations
As if the imaginary god of literation would burst from the pages in a robe made from the conjugation of imitated truths and the skins of misunderstood youths, shine his heavenly light on the book and say "here, you missed this line like all of your other peers, now you can be the only one among the thousands that have read this text to fully comprehend this asinine bullshit"
Her bookshelf is filled with spines that have titles as vague as the contents, the authors names get butchered when I try to pronounce them, yet she lets them roll off her tongue like a water slide in the mid afternoon heat, refreshing, and as light hearted as the fair haired children that lunge down its inner spiral
And she's so mindful of every reference that she plucks from her paid education
Having an intellectual conversation on a subject of her choice is like having a three hour pillow fight with a younger sibling, its all good and fun for awhile, but at some point both of you get pissed off and just start swinging as hard as you can at each other's faces
But her words hold no weigh, her weapons have no real impact, her attacks are made with one step forward and two steps back
Until her debate is so distant that she can listen to the echo of her own voice until she feels satisfied with the amount of noise and finally shuts the fuck up
She slithers through sentences until her tongue forks and ties itself into a knot, words trip out of her mouth and quickly crawl back in once they realize how foolish they've become
I've been involved in her double talk so many times that I've been tempted to end her with a knife if only it wouldn't require an illustrated diagram to show her how to die
My words would get spent till lungs dry up and spit dust when a gust pulls them up and spells out the words "I give up"
Cause her books have pages like mirrors that reflect themselves on to the reader till she knows as much about herself as the writer knows about his topic
Then the only definitive statements she can make anymore is how much she loves her cat, and how she's afraid she's getting fat, or all the places she WON'T eat at, or how she doesn't like when I point out her indecisiveness LIKE THAT
I don't know why she reads those books
Just like how she doesn't know why I keep writing poetry about her
But she reads books about things that can never be understood
And I write poetry about things that can never be understood

Movie Moments

2007-12-02T21:19:00.000-06:00

They run into each other in the grocery store/mall/convience store/park/subway/traffic.
He's in the produce aisle/shoe store/getting gas/walking his dog/about to get off at his stop/cursing the heavens for this traffic jam.
She reaches for the same apple/admires the shoes he picked up/is at the pump across from him/is walking her dog, which goes after his/notices him acting foolish and thinks its cute.

They say "hi" and their eyes meet.
They make effortless witty, flirtatious small talk despite the fact that he's extremely nervous and shy.
They go out to dinner and have an amazing evening. When he walks her to the door he rambles nervously about how much he likes her, she thinks its endearing, and kisses him in mid sentence.

Or maybe they don't kiss, maybe we should let them let them climb into bed alone with thoughts of each other still fresh in their mind.

But they always end up having some kind of amazing moment, some beautiful story to tell.

Does that really ever happen..........maybe. But in most cases thats just movies. So why is it that when the guy in the movie writes her a song and plays it outside her bedroom window when they hardly know each other, she invites him in, instead of the more realistic situation of getting creeped out and calling the cops?

I'm sure if things like that actually worked then that'd be a pretty kick ass start to a relationship. However, the thing with movies is that they're made up, and we can see the characters thoughts and every day life before this all happens. So we know that when they have that sweet moment in front of her door, he's going home to brush his teeth and go to bed instead of pining over her pictures and building a shrine. I suppose its become pretty obvious that I'm speaking from experience, and no I never did anything that crazy. I think I just tried too hard to create a special moment that sticks in their mind. I can't say that I blame them for getting scared off, I've been on both sides of the story before.

To me life is all a series of moments, and most of them are just things like making breakfast, driving to work, and having another one of "those" conversations with a customer. You're not going to look back fondly on any of those memories, thats just life. I over analyze things way too much, I've always known this, and I say too much about whats going on in my head when I find the opportunity to unload. In all honesty, I think people in general are far too reserved and guarded. But I also know that with all the crazies in the world you have to be very careful. The thing is that sometimes, someone opens up and says something amazing, terrible, tragic, or beautiful and you know that you just saw a piece of their core.

Unfiltered, Unbridled, Unashamed

An Object

2007-12-02T20:58:00.000-06:00

This is actually an old piece of writing that I decided to revive and add to my arsenal of slam poems. Emo...........most definately, but I think everyone can relate to it in some way.

You feel just like an object
The frowning manequin in the living room set piece
In this scene you sit dormant on your couch
In this scene you constantly feed yourself alcohol
In this scene she enters stage right, taking her place next to you, bending your left arm around her shoulders
Manipulating your opposable limbs that otherwise just hang at your sides
You watch TV and every now and again your arm fires another shot of alcohol past your passive lips
The same lips that don't feel the need to form themselves into words
The same lips that don't feel the need to press against hers
Those lips don't whisper or pucker or smile anymore
They just open and clamp shut like steel flood gates, letting the liquid in and keeping the monster from getting out
Inside your hot sticky insides, resting between all the blood and bile, it grows everyday
One day it might just climb up your ribcage and crawl out your throat
Spilling out into an unsuspecting world to stomp and devour entire civilizations
Crushing buildings made out of hopes and dreams
Swallowing oceans of sweat and tears
Breathing fire onto every bridge that leads to every dead end path
Every road that you walked the length of, there and back, so many times that you don't have the will to move anymore
So there you are
Motionless, unblinking, completely numb next to this shapely female figure
In the next scene she follows you to bed
In the next scene you just lie flat on your back, her head resting on your bare chest
She positions your arm around her
You're the new lonely nights doll, with cuddling action
The only movement left in your body is the heavy sighs that gently elevate her head for a few brief moments
You feel just like an object
Motionless, unblinking, screaming and clawing on the inside

It Just Never Happened

2007-11-18T19:29:00.000-06:00

There's something that basically happens naturally in every one's life, usually when they're a blossoming adolescent
And after that first bliss fulled occasion most people enjoy it many times over in their life
Some freaks even become addicted to it, and start doing abnormal things to increase the pleasure it brings, like wearing costumes and performing with accessories because that's apparently what gets those weirdos off
Now don't get me wrong, aside from those misfits, I absolutely love it
And if you ever gave me just one quiet evening alone I would fill you with the immense joy that it brings
However, at this point in my life I've somehow managed to date three different girls that have never experienced it
And it was still as shocking the second and even the third time I heard that it just hasn't happened for that specific girl
Of course, my first question is always "why not?"
Then they would give me a response like "I've just never had the desire for it"
Its at that exactly moment when my jaw would spring open, releasing the words that had been arming themselves behind my lips like Roman soldiers preparing for battlement
I would let loose with that epic statement that would stop all the action in the room as if time were a beast with two heads and normally flies, but in that instant it landed on our table holding itself perfectly still while glaring into our souls with both pairs of its eyes
"HOW THE FUCK HAVE YOU NEVER......SEEN STAR WARS?"
In this day and age its pretty much part of growing up, as if it were cinema puberty
Its like this you get born, crawl, walk, talk, run, school, Star Wars, acne, awkward sex, drugs, finals, senior trips, clumsy sex, Star Wars, graduate, drunken sex, work, bills, pretty sure you rocked her world though she doesn't agree sex, Star Wars, bills, bills, bills, bills, pills so you can get it up sex, Star Wars, get way too fucking old, and death
After which you either become part of the light side or the dark coming full circle as prophesied in the Star Wars
So if there are any ladies out there that share this same affliction that my previous girlfriends have had
I'm strongly advising you to get a fucking Blockbuster card and rent the goddamn movie
Hell, you can even come over to my place, I own a fucking copy
We'll get some beer and some chips and experience it the classic way........VHS, on a shitty 19 inch TV hooked up to a Montgomery Ward boombox WITH bass boost
You can actually feel that shit, kind of
Then you too will sing its praises and when you come into my bedroom which decorated in a mock up of Jabba the Hutt's lair , you definitely won't mind wearing the Princess Leia slave costume complete with chains while we have the nastiest sex you could imagine and when you scream my characters name you say, "Han Solooo .....my god your light saber is so big"
And then I whisper in your ear........well baby its because I have a high midochlorine count
Then the moment I'm done working my Boba Fett in and out of your sarlac pit I pull out and "accidentally" unleash the power of the force in your jedis
But for the love of everything good and holy don't just tell me you'll "try" to watch it
Because in the words of one of the most prolific figures in the history of the universe,
"Do or Do Not, There is No Try"

Headlights

2007-11-18T19:27:00.000-06:00

I'm on to you
I know what you are now
And I never really noticed it before because you're outer appearance is never the same
And I never see you again, not in the same exact place, not with the same exact face, but something about you always stays the same
A face that is meant to be delicately chiseled into a marble slab
A hand crafted masterpiece that still has its imperfections and cracks, instead of a center fold face that comes out of a plastic cast
A body that looks like a real woman, like a classic beauty, not like these anorexic train wrecks that somehow pass for attractive these days
And though it is the form that you take that always catches my eye, its not what keeps it there as you gracefully walk by
Its as if your skin is made out of glass, and your rib cage divides into sections and pulls itself back so I can see past everything that everyone else sees
And there you are
A little ball of energy that glows so bright that it absolutely shadows out everyone elses light
Its your core, or your source, or your essense, how ever you want to phrase it, its there
And you always come out of nowhere, as if all the particles in the room were sucked in and combusted in the moment that I blinked, creating you
A beautiful distant star that usually hides in the dark, but for one brave moment you shoot across my view
And I don't know what to do
I pace around the aisle pretending like I'm going about my normal business, every so often glancing around to make sure you haven't moved
I'm trying my best not to stare directly at you, but I'm sure you're not oblivious
You know that I'm looking and you probably also know that I'm trying to muster up the courage to say hello
I can play two hour shows without missing a beat, or stand in front of an audience screaming about fucking, but for some reason
I can't even approach you
Then as quickly as you appeared, you implode into yourself and completely disappear
I always miss my opportunity, so I wrote this in hopes that you could somehow hear
Don't give up on me
I know it has to be frustrating but I don't have the light I need to be with you yet
I thought I saw you in others, but every time realized that it was only a spark, my core dimmed and now its practically gone dark
So please don't stop showing up
One day I might just sneak up on you by surprise
Then we can sit down together like two headlights driving down a deserted highway to somewhere we've never been before
We'll find the edge of the world and fall continuously into each other until you and I don't exist anymore
All that's left is the plural of us in a singular love

Third Stool to the Right

2007-11-18T19:25:00.000-06:00

On any given night you can find our subject on the third stool to the right in your local dive bar
Sitting alone he tilts his glass from side to side, swirling the contents like a cauldron that he stares into for advice
But the only face he sees inside is bitter and lonely, cold hearted and ugly, pressed against the walls for years till his expression only resembles the bricks that line the outside of the building
And every once in awhile he sees what he recalls of his daughters beautiful little face burning brightly behind his eyes
And he just takes another shot of the whiskey he keeps next to his bed when she keeps him awake at night
I say he remembers what he can recall because for the last 12 years he hasn't been a father at all
Back in a time when things felt more innocent, a young man and a young woman became more than intimate
And every evening was spent lying in each other's arms whispering in her ear before she would roll over and return the sentiment
But quick passions sometimes lead to quick decisions and there was no thoughts about any natural repercussions when he slid himself between her legs without any precautions
The next few weeks found our couple grocery shopping as normal, but this time next to the bread, milk, and eggs was a pregnancy test
Back home in the bedroom his heart raced, and her hands shaked, as they watched the strip change colors right in front of their face, and she cried when she realized that her life was going to change
What should have been a beautiful moment was washed over in panic, despair, and rage, as the father tried to talk her into visiting a clinic the next day
The truth was that neither one of them were prepared to have a child, and while he didn't want to stop the birth of a human being, he knew he couldn't provide it with a proper standard of living
His bitterness just expanded as evenings were spent demanding that she took a look at what kind of world they were bringing a little child into
A mother that never even graduated high school and a father that was too self absorbed in creating a name for himself that he already renounced the God that his parents had introduced him to
There was no comfort in reaching out to higher powers and this course of events only led him to believe further that any benevolent presence was too high up to be concerned about a lonely little boy without the proper will power
The guilt ate at him during every waking hour
He had dreams of uprooting his little flower
Devouring the seed inside her already blossoming body to prevent dealing with the years of inadequate preparation that this poor little spirit would be forced into when it was born
He was more than torn
He was divided into an internal battle with his morality, his responsibility, his integrity, and his youthful desires
The relationship only became strained as the months went by and he secretly wished for a miscarriage to relieve the torment in his mind
Until the day came when she arrived
He stood in the delivery room and watched his daughter emerge from inside, and when the nurse placed her in his arms the world realigned itself and tears poured from his eyes
It was the most beautiful moment in his life
And even when told me this amidst the crowd and noise in that bar, he still cried
And when his tears finally dried he told me about what happened within the next six months, when his baby died
Even though in all reality he had no control over the fact that his little girls heart had just stopped he still felt like it was his fault because God had been listening and he finally woke up

The Gallery

2007-11-18T19:22:00.000-06:00

I've got a gallery of stylized portraits of past mistakes in art deco frames hanging from the recesses of my brain
Every once in awhile I like to wander through admiring the pictures so I can get another look at you
I still have your phone number as it seems to be impervious to the quarterly contact deletions that occur on my cell
I can't tell you how many times my thumb has dangled over that button, just centimeters away from cutting the last line that still connects me to your life
A digital umbilical cord that feeds me false hope and shattered dreams like rapidly deteriorating film reels that sputter and click in rhythmic repetitions of tragic drum beats
And I was always on the edge of my seat constantly admiring you like a starlet on the silver screen
The academy of me was almost all agreeing on presenting you with the prestigious honor of an Oscar in the form of a diamond ring
Then time changed something
It swept in like a thief, clinging to shadows and holding its breath till violent gasps exploded from the depths of its chest
In those ugly inhales we would spend the evenings turned away from each other, clutching the covers, considering if these encounters would happen with another
Blood shot eyes peering over our shoulders at each other, words crouching behind our lips, waiting to ambush the next chance that we would get
Until the thief learned how to breathe freely and walk among us easily, whispering phrases like "he doesn't need me"
And that little bastard would run back to my ear, perching on my shoulder telling me that she doesn't want me here
He would reassure me that I'm a man, I have my pride, and I can't be trifled with emasculating statements like "I'm sorry" or simple gestures like wrapping my arms around you when you cried
I almost called you when I was standing in the cold outside
Unfortunately that same invisible barrier that protects your cell phone spectre also won't allow the pressure to my fingertips to ring your line
I wanted to tell you to walk out and take a look at the first star that caught your eye
And how I imagine that on that star is an alternate world where we killed the thief and set everything right
But I realize now more than ever
Not everything dies

HPV

2007-11-18T19:18:00.000-06:00

Dear God of Modern Medical Advances and Health care Innovations,

Fuck you
I suppose you must be pretty proud of yourself
After all you have been quite busy lately
Most noticeably in the object of my unquenchable desire that I just so happen to frequent my evenings with
Evenings that just meld into one another
Evenings that are so fantastic that they flood into the following day
Evenings filled with slow kisses, gentle caresses, flirty eyes, intertwined body parts, and gritting my teeth from the fact that I can't put my hoo hoo in her haa haa because of your wondrous gift to women of the world
Otherwise known as the HPV shot
You so expertly produced it for the prevention of cervical cancer and the rapid deterioration of my sexual sanity
So two big thumbs up on that one, chief
Cause let me tell you, there ain't nothing I love more in this world than ordering a prime cut T-bone steak and having a Big Mac show up on my plate
And I guess that I can't really complain because the chef is so fucking hot that I'll take anything she gives me with a big shit eating grin on my face
However I am this close to running back into the kitchen and sweeping everything off that prep table
And in the middle of that maelstrom of lettuce, onions, pickles, special sauce, and sesame seed buns swirling around us like uncontrollable vortex of passion, I'm going to pull out my secret ingredient and show her how to bake my sex in her love oven
But right whenever we're about to start cooking you have to step in and remind us that she has to pre-heat..........until September
So this 9/11 while everyone is mourning a horrific American tragedy that no doubt has scarred the image of security and freedom in this entire country
Leaving shock waves of fear and paranoia in the hearts of our general populace
I'm going to spread open her twin towers and blow my airliner right through them
Alright, I might have stepped over a line with that one, but you make me more concerned than a Jew in an enormous German shower stall
Maybe one of these days I'll thank you because the lack of completely lust filled interactions has made me appreciate what an amazing person she is even more
But until that time comes
I point my perpetually erect middle finger
Directly at you

My Intentions

2007-11-18T19:15:00.000-06:00

I just want to say that its a pleasure to meet you Ms. Grey,

I'd like to take a few precious moments of your time if you'll allow me to be so cordial as to explain my intentions with your daughter
Now we both know that she is a radiant display of beauty both physical and mental, fit to be perched atop a throne and worshipped by people of her own civilization
And we both know that she's so kind hearted that even kings of neighboring lands would travel bare foot from thousands of miles away to stand in line just to tickle her back
But I'd like to think that the people of her own land would be so passionate about their queen that they'd fight to the death with the outsiders, using those very same farming tools which are essential in growing that disgusting bread she eats without flour
Because laying just one finger on her pristine body would be the equivalent of marring a beautiful French painting that was made by someone fancy and shit
Now I don't know what kind of books you were reading this vibrant spark of life when she was little but her grasp on performance and prose are reaching epic proportions
You've seen those fantasy paintings with the scantily clad vixens mounted on a cougar while they hold their sword up high in the air as lightning strikes it on top of a mountain
That's her
She is a barbarian woman welding her tongue like Excalibur, slashing through lesser foes like tiny sissy paper mache dolls while she torches entire villages with each word she casts from her lips cause she's a fucking witch
And the spell that she inadvertently enchanted my heart with has started to consume my entire being, which is why I had to come before you and tell you that I want to fuck the holy hell out of her
I suppose I should apologize profusely, but I want to ransack her body like an LA rioter in 1992, flipping cars with my ridged member leaving only a wake of carnage and destruction on my way to her pad locked liquor store
And liquor is just the start to what I have waiting for her
Because what she doesn't realize is that I'm mother fucking Conan, that's right Schenegger in all his glory, arms like tree trunks, and abs like Jesus
And when some huge ass serpent in some dungeon that she's exploring comes tearing through a wall to attack her, I'm going to jump out from the shadows and choke that bitch with my bare hands
Then while I'm standing there in front of her in all my testosterone filled glory, I'll unsheathe my sword and cast a shadow over her civilization that will last for millenias to come
And millenias won't be the only things will continue to come
Ms. Grey......I AM THE DESTROYER OF YOUR DAUGHTER'S V-JAY-JAY
I'm sorry, whats that?
Oh, yeah, hi my name is Dwayne
Wow, yeah, I suppose that was a bit too much information
.............
But I wasn't lying I would put sores on her from fucking so much

Candy Man: A Cautionary Piece

2007-11-18T19:13:00.000-06:00

The years of scrubbing your smooth skin hasn't washed off the venom you born with
You were cursed with a disposition to poison men that let you in, use you up and spit you out again
Your environment breeds unfortunate seeds that don't have the strength to push past the crust of the earth
You're part of the individuals born into holes in the dirt, practically doomed from their birth
Surviving off the residue of lovers that left you when you clawed your name on the flesh of their chest
And I hate to tell you this, but I'm not any better than the rest
On paper I'm all good intentions and air tight alibis, but I only brought you to my bedroom so I can swallow your soul one bite at
a time
I enjoy running my hands over your frame, finger fucking the stitches out of your emotional scars
So I can pull them apart and stick my face in to get a good look at the daddy shaped hole in your heart
Truth is I'm just another vulture sitting under your nest, watching you squirm from how your father pushed you out too fast
And 50 feet down you still flutter on the ground, wishing for wings that work, bleeding internally, performing physical favors for anyone
lonely or horny enough to buy you a drink at the bar
Cause you're struggling to find water in a desert of empty pleasures that only leave you further dehydrated and violated
by steel wool finger tips that scratch your lips, scrape the flesh from your hips until they unhinge their jaws to devour whats left, leaving
only a name you can refer to in the past tense
Legions of men forming lines to your bed filling holes that are stretched like the veins in your arms that stream chemicals to your heart
and everything is only an awkward effort to find a new beginning to the chapters that keep ending with you waiting for phone calls that never
come
Cause you gave them the ending before your evening was done
Then you wonder why the tally marks are adding up on your inner thighs
So allow me to give you a little insight tonight
Look at me, fucking look at me
I'm one of those guys, standing up and raising my hand, admitting that I didn't feel anything when I slipped out of your life
You're just another vehicle that I pushed into a lake of lies so I could watch you drown inside
And I absolutely love it when you fight with me so I can eat the meat off your spite, blow my smoke in your eyes, and leave a shell of girl
that had high hopes for a world that would some how mend all her broken bones and wipe the tears that she cried
In this one moment of heart felt sincerity I hope you grow up and accept your own responsibility
Stop talking to strangers that claim to have new flavors of candy that you can take home and taste
Cause I got a whole bag full, so don't trust every friendly face

Tension

2007-11-18T15:09:00.000-06:00

I can feel it brooding under my skin
It's tension
And I can't put my finger on exactly what it is, whether it's a primal sexual thing or some kind of unbridled animosity sitting on our chests
And even if I figured out exactly what it is I can never really tell if its the same thing that you're feeling
Its like we're both holding guns under the table, or hiding knives behind our backs when we use one arm to side hug when we say hello or good bye
And the words between those two occurrences are few and far between, even in them neither of us say what we really mean
Its lip service
But for what?
Every meeting that we arrange just makes further clear that one day we're either going to blow up or shut down on each other
I can't tell if this is just granting a courtesy or if you're actually helping me try to fight through this fog of frustration that has encapsulated any enjoyable moment we used to have
But there's something you need to know before we get to the point where we say things neither of us can take back
I miss you
But don't misunderstand what I'm saying
I'm not saying that I miss your kiss, or your touch, or the evenings that stumbled into your bed after I drank too much
I'm saying I miss YOU
The intelligent girl I could talk to, the girl that randomly wanted crab puffs, or felt compelled to walk down the street to the convenience store to get a mixture of Icee's at midnight
The girl that listened to me play guitar while she studied on her bed, the one that I felt comfortable inviting to events where I wanted to have a female for company instead
In comparison of our personalities its amazing that we even managed to get along, but somehow we did
And words got mangled and tangled in safety nets that you installed in hopes that you could soften the blow if I should happen to fall
Well I did and I'm done debating on whether or not you pushed me at all
Now you said what you needed to say I've had time to process the truth, lick my wounds, and scream it off of the tops of roofs, venting words that hurt but I was never aiming at you
I had just been holding a weapon that I needed to shoot
And if you took one in the chest then I'm apologizing and offering my bandages to you
They're a little used but I don't need them anymore

The Composer

2007-11-18T15:06:00.000-06:00

You're omnipresent, like a Greek myth you summon yourself in front of me everywhere at once
I can't lift an eyelid without seeing something that reminds me of everything that was
Movies, albums, and street names that still whisper like figments that haunt me in the night
And I'm inadvertently resurrecting your spirit through ashes of wine glasses that litter the corners of my room
And when I go to clean up all the empty beer bottles that your hands had graced, little ghosts fly out of the empty space
And its absolutely killing me cause there's millions of them with your face
So I rush through the apartment corridors like Pac-man to the kitchen to scavenge the cupboards seeking the little magic pill that erases my conscienceness and turns all your ghosts blue, so I can float back into the bedroom and eat every single piece of you
But I never have enough time before they all stop flashing again, like emergency lights in bright patterns of orange, yellow, and red
And I'm back to chasing the dots, chasing the shots with a hit off a bowl in a place where you're not
While a flat lifeless pillow lies on the side of the bed that you would have got
I made music from the way you moaned when my hands and my tongue were exploring your body on the evenings we were alone
And now your just the fucking annoying song that I can't get out of my head
Your the name that sends pangs of shock waves through my stomach when I see it as I'm scrolling through the contact list on my cell phone
You're the static in the air, you're the empty dial tone
That same exact sound that I hate to hear when I'm debating on calling you to see if your home
You're the nagging little nuisance throwing useless little toothless green eyed monsters that circle me at night when I'm just trying to push past the images of new gentlemen playing the keys on your skeleton, composing new symphonies of ecstasy, surpassing me in orchestral arrangement that climax in crescendos of sweeping refrains till your knees buckle and you don't have the strength to walk when the piece comes to its epic end
And then the vision stops, rewinds, and plays itself over again
You're the magazine ad that I tear out and pin up onto the wall, you're the rise of the Roman empire and the decadence that led to its downfall
You're a fucking evil priestess sticking pins in my voodoo doll while I curl up over campfires burning effigies of your form
And I'm just begging you, pleading you, imploring every beautiful inch of you, call off your fucking dogs
Cause I'm just waiting for everything to come to pass, when I'll be reborn like Jesus Christ of a cardboard cut out Nazareth
Screaming with a thousand bold voices of a cathedral choir as I'm preaching to the red headed devil that I still desire
Douse me in this bottle of whiskey and bathe me in your fire
I want to make my home inside your lungs under stacks of funeral pyre
Till you develop Emphazema and spend your life dangling from hospital wires
I'll be your fucking Judas leading an army of two tone, turn coats, that roll over with every high pitched note that your new composer pucks from the strings of your heart
While I watch from the mezzanine of some hellish dream while you two make percussion out of each other's private parts
Stabbing me like poison darts with each wet slap holding me down and ripping me apart
Till the fluids from my limbs and your sexual car accident come mingling onto my mental canvas like a disturbing work of art
I said it once before and I'll scream it again sweetheart
Call off your fucking dogs or nobody gets out alive
Cause I'm ready to lay down my life and battling your miserable memory is like bringing a knife to a gun fight

Post

2007-11-18T14:56:00.000-06:00

It slowly became apparent to me that while I was only interested in counting the number of lovers on my two hands
You were busy growing extra arms to accommidate your new men
And I'm not even attempting to say that's a reflection of where you've been
But rather an indication of where you're willing to go before your life's end
Double talking over dinner tables in philosophical pillow fights that don't hold enough weight to ruin anyone's night
And after two hours of questions without real answers, you get no real winners, you just get real tired and have to call the fight
I can see how that can even be a summary of everything we ever were
A flash in the pan of romance without enough gas to truely burn
You would think that striking two stone hearts together would cause some kind of spark
But more often than not I'd be found drinking myself to sleep in the dark
You see, sweet pea, I ran the numbers in my head, I picked up the remains of memories and buried what was dead, and I recall every soft spoken word and still mean everything I said
But that doesn't help the fact that I was an interchangable accessory for the late night hours in your bed
Now I know you said you wanted casual and casual was right
Cause I was just the shirt you threw on when you weren't going out for the night
Now since we're being honest I suppose I should admit that I didn't need much help in wrapping myself around your finger
Its mostly my fault that I crafted poems and love songs that are strong enough to linger
But when I would lie down next to you my eyes were blinking in shutter shots that created libraries of images in my mind
Until the shelves overflowed and photos came drifting down to my heart, making spirals down my spine
Till it fell like every instinct in my body was standing straight in a line
Saluting the essence of everything I thought could be mine
Its funny how perseption can cause you to re evalutate the truth
And I still would have fought for my reality nail for nail and tooth for tooth
But the emotion that crashed like waves in your eyes wasn't the same rolling tides that came spilling from your lips
And I should have know better considering that it took a bottle of wine before you'd start talking with your hips
I spent every moment trying to graduate from those second grade smiles and ninth grade encounters
We're both fucking adults so what makes you think I want to dry hump for hours
And we still flirt like fucking first graders sitting at opposite ends of cafeteria counters
There's no way I can ever guarantee that I can comfortably sit next to you in the same place
Or not have the urge to punch whatever new boyfriend you've found directly in the face
And sometimes I really think I'd feel better if I could win in the "who's going to fuck someone first" race
But determining the winner would mean I'd have to know how soon you gave yourself over to someone new
And how they just made a parody of everything I tried to give to you
I know its only a matter of time before some golden boy with a sharp tongue and a higher education finds his way into your arms
And I'll probably just get drunk at your wedding and throw my empty beer bottles at your car
Of couse thats to say if our post relationship even makes it that far
And sometimes I hope it doesn't