love, no

I don’t know that I know what love is anymore.
See, I’ve been in love.
No, not with some girl that I’ve maybe dated,
Or maybe slept with.
No.
I’ve been in love with disaster.
It seems to follow me so closely,
So carefully, almost unnoticed.
I love people, I love places,
I love faces, and coffee,
And the faces she makes when she drinks it so quietly.
I’m angered silently,
Not that I can’t have what I want,
But that I can’t get a chance to rest on it.
See, I am not the boy who falls in love;

I am the tingle in his ankles
On the drive back to her home.

End Me

Circles…

Circles! I’m running circles!
What is this madness that creeps back behind my mask?
I feel it’s gentle talons’ deeply grasping me
From around my neck and asking me
What it is I’m here for.
How can I find a way to live more?
Draining sickness through these visions
Of distances and sinful visage;
Calling out to my doubtless edges,
Climbing mountains, sounding pledges,
Hand over heart with feet on ledges;

Have I gone insane? 

Twisted

I miss you and I’m sitting right next to you.
What is this feeling?
Mere feet between us, yet we’re miles apart.
I feel like there are little sand grains
Pumping through the weakened valves of my ever-aching heart.
Fear drives me off the tracks,
Ignoring the lines that divide the sides.
My knuckles scratch and match the cracks in the asphalt.
My hands grip the steering wheel,
Tempted to let it go,
Taunting fate or maybe grace
To set me free.
I want to be free like the air,
Flowing peacefully between the trees,
Wrapping myself around and between the hands of two lovers.
I want to be the sound that escapes the lifted covers,
The shifted sheets of going further.
What vines do grow within my grove?
What strangle struggles, tangles love?

What more can I offer you?

A Soft Song For Carrera

Her hair was brown
Like fall,
Or a gentle rust
Upon my iron sleeve
Where I rest my heart.
She loves
And she gives,
And she hates,
But forgives.

She is an angel that has lost her wings,
Some touch had took
The life out of the songs
She may hear
From time to time;
A caged bird,
With feathered dreams,
Yet still she sings.

Aging Spirits

She’d locked her smoky tendrils inside my empty lungs
With a kiss.
I willing accepted my fate,
Quest-filled and fearlessly.
We were bound together,
Hand in hand,
Flickering like the fires of a dying star.
She took my breath away.
Slowly, she began to want more.
She wanted my words
And my heart
And my body,
The only things that kept me alive.
I had to rid myself of her love;
I had to free myself from her clutches.
I never told her when I left,
But you better believe she knew.
She called every day for weeks,
Begging me to let her back in.
She became a ghost to me,
Dead and gone
Like a love one passed,
But I don’t miss her much.
I am free
To breathe
And be
The king
Of all my dreams
I’ve made of me.

Drive

I remember falling,
Either apart or maybe into something—
Soft, but uninviting.
The rest is laced with false memories
And alcohol poisoning,
A debt that I can never repay myself.
Frozen in this moment,
I question how it is I came to believe
In the last thing I find myself to still believe in. 

I keep hitting walls.

—Speed bumps. 

Thunk-thunk. Thunk. 

Dust

Can you see the pain in my eyes?
Can you taste the fear in my words,
The stammer in my speech?
I feel like I’m falling,
Like I’m dreaming,
But I won’t wake up this time.
I will hit the ground,
And I will fade.
Will you place your favorite flowers on my grave?