Assorted works from the past years...

Over the years I've written a bunch of shit.
Less stink as followed...


Lifted

Sinking in a sandbox of lethargy and fallacies.
You stretch your skin and pull your veins until the capillaries fill with shards of laughter and dissonance that reverberate throughout your neon walls.
An ivy ravine built upon layers and layers of catastrophe.
Yet they're patient.
They sit and wait.
Ready to rupture and spew condolences at the flick of your grandfather's old timepiece.
Your eyes fill of second hand store arguments and bittersweet whispers.
The high-rise of perceptual tendencies and disorderly conduct grapple the mind into a state of totally inattentiveness.
Mushrooming occurs, but still all goes unnoticed.
A camp of cyanosis tonguing exit holes into your brain.
Pull the blue cord tighter.
You never forget the sound.
Louder than a train wreck or 188 decibels of the finest whistle in the world.
It sounds of grapefruit exploding on the kitchen floor.
It sounds of carcinogenic school children playing the violin and smoking cigarettes as a masquerade of rape and nostalgia flutter by.
A delicate array of taste and confusion, concocting methadone at the bottom of your cup.
It’s a sound that brings you much further from the ground that you ever thought possible.
Lifted.


Brown Shoes

Usually I'd say a kiss means nothing
It's just some hyped up bullshit that everyone decides to buy into
Like fucking
Don't fuck him unless you've been dating for ’X’ amount of weeks
Don't fuck him unless you're sure there's something there
Don't fuck him unless he's the one
I've never been one to buy into fabricated bullshit
To me a kiss means nothing
To me a kiss is nothing
Fucking
Means nothing
But today
That shady breeze flowing in between the strands of your hair
The Jetliner carrying all the moms and dads home from corporate trips
The dog barking in the backyard many houses down
All meant something
Even though I don't want to admit it to you
That kiss was certainly something
A kiss like that
Short, sweet, and simple
Even if I wanted to fuck you I couldn't
So pure and pristine
You hit my core like a fucking heart attack
S h a t t e r e d
Tremors maybe
Upheaval all throughout this wayward mind
I'll still tell you that it meant nothing to me in the morning
But both you and I know
It was much more
Then I’ll ever let you believe


Home

There's nothing
louder
than the
sound of
this
empty apartment


Homage

Days pass
at a dawdling rate
The ocean
lays breathless
Catching sand between
our toes
Engulfed by this
dismal beach
Let's lay here
inevitably
This time
Next time
I won't be here


A Ballad of bones

Life ticks away slowly
Forget the heartbeat
That was gone a long time ago

You're left with thoughts and ideas (plagues and riddles)
You consume all of this knowledge
None of it is good for you but there's no other way to put out the fire
You can let it burn out
Even though
The damage has settled in long before drinking took any standpoint on the matter

This bullshit knowledge that you created
You fed off of it and blew things out of proportion
You fade into everything but nothing will help to writhe the skin better than your fuck-ups and misguidance
The weight of 10,000 words mean nothing without you
Fall, fail, fuck.

None of it is important but I'll still load the chambers
Just in case
Open ribcage in a liquid tombstone
As for the last hurrah
Take a picture of my rigid body
For within it is everything you wanted to see
And every word time never let me tell

Wipe the wounds, sew the eyes
You won't need to see where you're going
The heart is a catacomb of dead ends and shrapnel
Fight the war, win the fight, or die trying

You still have one last chance
Think things though
Words and feelings mean nothing
That I learned


Rehashing

Then everything went dark;
the houses, the buses, the cars, the streets, the subway, even the people went dark.

It wasn't that the limelight went missing,
it was that dismal feeling you get in the back of your throat once you realize everything you spent your entire life working for ended so abruptly.
You never have a chance take control of the situation.
Not that you would have known what to do or how to handle it anyways,
but it would have been nice to get a jump on things before the final blow knocked you to your quivering knees and left you with that little blue ball point pen that leaked though your pocket.

As you kneel there you're forced to recollect the events that made you:
Late nights with alcohol, fucking, commitment, lack of commitment, adoration, sleep, the lack of sleep, the lack of a father figure, the lack of a hero, no one being there when you came home at night, no one calling to check in on you after a heavy nights of drugs, pictures, and pills.
The only reason you were still alive was because of your altruistic acts.
The only thing that was left for you to do was follow a path.
Not to say that you normally conform to the standards of society,
but to say the monolith had finally arrived from the ocean,
shrouded in mystery and covered with the fragrance of tide.

If you could explain to someone the significance or the underestimating qualities,
they still wouldn't understand.
You've known them all your life and shambling though the anchorage with luggage in one hand and life in the other,
will not change their opinion about any of this.

It was that dismal feeling you get in the back of your throat once you realize nothing ever really existed and how it was always just you under the limelight.

It was midday and 100° outside,
the sky was incandescent and the people continued to move their feet to the rhythm of life. Nothing ever seized,
hope was never lost,
and the ocean had never seen so much pigmentation.