Tomorrow Will be Better

Water falls from the drain

Taking a different path than your own

Do not ask what is wrong with you

Ask why you’re broken

Stand in a crowded room of sitting strangers with faces

Dancing as they coalesce into one

Driving themselves crazy at the thought that

God’s decisions aren’t unilateral

Is it time to leave?

Is it time to wonder what you’ll say to the men

Holding your chair and coat

Saying you were one

Now you aren’t

“My name? My name is-”

Swallow the night into one swimming pool into another

Lapse into another haunting night

“My name?”

Abandoned hotels in Vermont

Cars on fire in Santa Fe

What has become of you?

Lost in the forest with twisting trees

And inconsistent stars

“My hands are freezing, and they have left”

I thought nothing broke you down

‘That must have been just how you were’

He will never wholly kiss you

Abandoned in the cabin in the

Road in the most dire times of your life

I swear by all the broken tables in the house

By the shattered plates on the floor

Tomorrow will be better.

Plague.

Tell me I’m plagued by only two things:
Spiraling fear and empty hope.
The mantra of our gray lives.
Staring into the sea of clouds
As if the clouds were made of waves
Were made by hands
Much shakier than mine.
You won’t be alone.
You’ll never be.
Carcinogens in my chest
Stones adding to this heavy heart
Made of granite and limestone.
Minutia in the veins
Slowing everything down.
Particles in the eyes
Impossible to see the horizon.

Banal Marginalia

Banalities come rushing down, tumbling like river rocks,
Crashing in the treble clef.
Scattering blackbirds panicking towards the window knock over the rusted candlesticks.
Lovers on a stroll hear the commotion
And wander off.
Sway to the music of toads barking and car exhausts chattering
Our bare feet burning on the hot asphalt
Discovering the differences in pain.
What did all this teach you?

Sliding into the Atlantic
Square foot by square foot of hillside came coming in after
Little pauses of sanctity in the turbulence were the only peace you knew.
How does the world reach you?

Hoarse voices becoming even quieter as the windows fog
I couldn’t leave
How could I leave you?
Sully epiphanies misguided by whispers from the world
Brought us to this point of contention.

Lament in our elegies for each other
Mine orated over the cliff in Maryland on an Autumn day,
As the leaves pushed on my back,
Directing me towards destiny.
Yours a plethora of air escaping.

Apologies on how I hurt you.
Pins and needles.
Pulverizing illusions of a perfect life.
Mistaking lighting trash cans on fire while you were inebriated
As an invocation of God.
I die with every scribble and marginalia you write in your love letters
Single syllables of granite blocks and melting fervor forever.

The Future is Uncertain Through Our Blind Eyes

Shall we return to the point

From where we departed?

Dizzying circles in a widening gyre.

Sangria overflowing until we are no longer strangers.

Little Spanish girl

What do those white hills look like to you?

 

Sitting on the steps of this house full of humans

Wandering,

Dragging their knuckles with only the simplest of desires guiding their way.

Peony powder enters into our lungs,

Exhaling nothing but sound and fury.

Catch ourselves on the hand rail.

Catch each other.

Fall into the un-mowed grass,

Feels like the down-feather comforter from the house.

And we make love.

Or fall asleep.

Tightening our grasp on reality the further we get,

Blackbirds swirling above,

Waiting for my mortal departure.

Temperamental storms approach from the Northwest,

Baptizing us in the garden,

Absolving us from tonight’s sins.

My eyes refuse to shed tears in the wake of this disaster.

Hearts rush quickly to make their decisions,

After revisions and revision again.

We grow old

Without even realizing the time has passed.

Running circles around the lake for quite some time,

Until we are bedridden and can barely breathe.

Will you still be there

When the wine has run dry,

And the flood no longer run from the divination that were your legs,

Up the spine that senses every finger that traces its name in passion,

Finding its way to your eyes,

As you see what we have become?

Hopefully it is beautiful.

Hopefully it is lovely.

Hopefully we will do this again.

City and Colour – Day Old Hate

So let’s face it this was never what you wanted
But I know it’s fun to pretend
Now blank stares and empty threats
Are all I have, they’re all I have.

So drown me and if you can
Or we could just have conversation.
And I fall, I fall, I falter
But I’ll find you before I drift away

Now you still speak of day old hate
Though your whole world has gone up into flames
And isn’t it great to find that you’re really worth nothing
And how safe it is to feel safe.

So drown me and if you can
Or we could just have conversation.
And I fall, I fall, I falter
But I’ll find you before I drift away

The things we do just to stay alive
The things we do just to stay alive
The things we do just to stay alive
The things we do just to keep ourselves alive.

We Are Simply Carbon Bodies, Struggling

We lay next to each other,
To hear someone else’s heart.
Bind our arms tightly around one another
Because it’s too easy to lose
In our carbon lives.
Drink ourselves into submission
Because no one taught us otherwise.
Light ourselves on fire
To see something in this dark
That’s worth saving.

Young Son

Young son
Prestige
Believing in your hands
The quiet slips through the cracks
Dancing around the dahlias
Mountains rise from the core
Mantles of limestone
Holding the pictures of your youth
Devastating that the words of triumph and pride
Will never be heard
By your capable ears

Hunter
Your arrows are primed
Soul is empty yet blessed
Dance around the circle
War chants and bright lights
Hoping that they’ll love you some day
Wondering if they loved you yesterday

Father
You’ve been him
Uncertain if you’re doing this right
Guessing at every turn
You’ll never know the outcome
Until you’ve made mistakes

Hope and Fear

It is unfortunate
How far apart we have grown
Limbs of the tree facing different horizons.
Godspeed.
May you find more light than I
In the coming morning.

Jumbled
In the chaos of it all.
The wind ruffles your muted plume.

Do you get it?
You are simply
Not
And I simply cannot-
Scavenging like a vulture through the sand-blanketed shore
For golden rocks to throw into your window.
Scream until-
We are not the destined lovers
Of a tale forlorn.
Never beginning,
Leaving one to roll in the thickets.
The other to simply sit in their wicker chair.

Anguish
Until we find each other
Pronate on a cedar floor.

Scarecrows

1.
Strung ourselves outside
Like shadows of scarecrows.
Cars.
Carolinas.
Crying.
All the days of the week
Well defined.
Hours slip from our hands
Like clumsy fools,
Wondering where the fuck you thought you were going today, but really,
We’re going no where.

2.
Barren,
Gutted houses.
Gentrification of our souls.
Caring for wenches and proletariates.
Proliferation of our fears.
Factions of men and women wondering:
Will you still love me
Tomorrow.

3.
We’ve got this problem.
No resolution.
Reverse.
Drive down the freeway the wrong way so
Our hearts pump blood into our ears and dying, beating hearts.
Calling our loved ones on the phone
Saying we’ve died.
Yet we arrive home
Here.

4.
Cowardice in our aspirations.
Architects.
Artisans.
All do some sketching on the side.
Something like the sun
Cresting the hills
Behind the house
Bathed in blue.
Erase Erase Erase
Something line the moon
Touching the trees
Swaying in the-
Erase Erase Erase
Foolish.

5.
Where have you gone
In such a short period of time.
Sacramento, New York, Birmingham.
The bard shouts from the rooftop
Something foreign and feint in our ears
Warning us of something.
Designs from God and stuff.
Leading to nothing and stuff.
I guess we just can’t say.
So we continue.

6.
Toss our hearts into the gutters
Street sweepers sweep
Swept away
Fools.
Change our shirts and jackets
Because worrying the others
Can bring nothing more
Than nothing.

7.
Woke up with the blue sky red.
“How do you do?
My name is-
Did we meet before?
Oh we did?
Fancy that.”
Cartons and bottles line the rail.
“I guess we did.”

8.
All I feel is dark.
Can you feel nothing?
See nothing in your empty skies?
Empty state.
Empty hand.
Empty words.

9.
Close the cellar doors.
The attic shutters shuddered.
A vortex will home soon.
Remnants of our lives will be astrewn.
Flown into one another
Until we can’t remember who we were.

10.
Scared you’re merely a mask with a familiar name.
Transplanted heart
Eliminated from this contest between two.
Crime spree.
Disheartened.
There’s no story here.
Go away.
Come back.
Leave.
It’s fine.

11.
Learned from the times that we’ve been cursed by
Whomever has their finger on our pulse.
Gripping my wrist,
Leading me into alleyways and trapdoors
Until my love claims nevermore.
Hunting in the wrong direction,
Triumphantly singing
That we’ve all lost something
Tonight.

Quickwrite

Dream:

All that I can remember is my dad and I in the old Primrose house. There was a dish of rice and stuff, and he kept asking for more. Then he said his head hurt and he fell over. I woke up this morning crying. Pretty bad.

I found a snail today, curled up on the inside of the lip of a trashcan. The protocol is to throw the snail into the chicken coop in the back. When I reached the wire gate, I looked at the snail. It’s head popped out from the shell, antenna “looking” straight at me. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make eye contact with an animal and allow it to die. So I set it down and walked away.

With all the events that have happened in the recent days, I’m not sure what to do. I mean, is the blue you see the same as the blue I see? Not profound, but what if you can’t see? Does the blue then become a mere memory, and constantly that color is fading in your memory, and the dresses you used to wear no longer have a color, but only texture and shape?

There is no such thing as a unique philosophy anymore. Neither is there a religion. People see the fact that each religion is essentially the same, with the same purpose. We need something to believe in, and a set list of rules to follow, or we’ll all find that life is meaningless and kill one another/kill ourselves/*insert any grotesque acts of selfishness.

It seems like people have unique thoughts, and that their beliefs cannot be the same. But the problem is that there are so many people on this earth that it’s impossible to say something unique. So where does that leave us? The ones that try to find something in this world that hasn’t been done before? Do we just plagiarize? Do we continue to read and quote, and hope that it’s general enough to appeal to those that read?

If you don’t think that there is symbolism in life, you aren’t looking broadly and specifically enough. You’re right in the middle, allowing it to happen to you.

There is no such thing as coincidence. There is no such thing as divine fate. There is action, and there is occurrence. You can put yourself in the best position to succeed, but the fact that the wind blew north today, and there was trash in someone’s front yard, and that the sun was 78 degrees instead of 77, can all influence what happens. People devalue their ability to control their lives.

My grandmother says, often, about God and his help in her life. Well, what about those that work every day to get to the NBA, and they get a devastating injury and their career is over before they started? Can it be helped that one’s effort wasn’t allowed to be matched by the occurrence that is his genetics that made his ACL weak? Or that he chose to wear one shoe over the other? That’s not God’s will, that’s what happens when your effort and the random occurrence of the world come into one another. Religious people put too much emphasis on the randomness aka heavenly influence, and those that put all their belief in their efforts wind up being depressed, because sometimes things just don’t work out for you. 

Should I say that God’s will made my mother and my uncle have macular degeneration, something that is found before puberty, but they by chance had it in their mid-50′s? Does the facts that their genetics, of being blonde and blue eyed, and growing up in Arizona and loving the outdoors because it was an escape from their abusive parents, led to this? Is that God’s will, or is it the fact that not many people knew about the importance of protection from the sun, or that their genetics were primed for this illness, or that they both love visual arts, do those all not count for leading up to this point in time? 

Things that happen to us are results, caused by circumstances. 

See, it’s easy for someone to say “Well, that’s God’s work.” because there’s no ability to refute that. Invisible, unfathomable, and based purely on faith and scripture that was written by a human being. 

I can’t hit on women in gyms because I never wear good clothes. I wear baggy things, sometimes with holes in them, because if I’m playing basketball, my skill proves more than my looks. But then the women are like “Uhhhh large, asian, and grimey. Nah.” So I say fuck them and eat chik-fil-a.