The saint in me is still a sinners son

I look at then

and I see me now

There’s people chanting

standing in a crowd

I wanna join in

try to help them out

But my mouth’s cashed checks

that just seem to bounce

Who be it that you try to believe

Who always turns into a parody

Now brush your teeth and try to behave

They’re all gonna hate you eventually

I look at then

but still see myself

Eyes wide shut

full of fear and doubt

She plucked the fruit

from the apple tree

As I stood staring

still I couldn’t believe

Who be it that you try to become

The saint in me is still a sinners son

Who be it that you try to believe

Now you’re all dressed up living a fantasy

I look at now

like she saw me then

All fed up

fist balled paper and pen

There’s dishes broken

on the kitchen floor

The serpent speaks

in tongues I can’t ignore

Who be it that you thought you saw in me

A break fix and used return policy

Who be it that I thought I saw in you

But what difference does it make there’s an election soon

oh well, oh well. (LOL)

Sometimes I feel like an object of desire.

Sometimes I feel like a down right cruel liar.

Sometimes I feel like nothing ever is

all that bad until then reality hits.

Sometimes I feel sad when you’re away.

Sometimes I feel glad like it’s all the same.

Sometimes I feel like a sad sack sucking up

to the kid with the cool hair that I want.

I don’t know man I guess only time can tell

where we go and when it’s time to give em hell

I just hope that I have the strength to talk

when it comes time to talk who’s gonna walk the walk?

Sometimes it’s all just too much to think about.

Get a real job, good career kid now settle down.

Don’t make your grandmother worry make your mother proud,

even though well hell she’s gonna love you any way.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve got it figured out.

Sometimes I feel like a widow black with doubt.

Sometimes I feel like throwing it all away

if I could just hold out perhaps another day.

Sometimes I feel like Times Square counting down.

Sometimes I feel like a cliche riddled clown.

Sometimes I feel like nothing ever is

but I know better than, but I know better now.

I don’t know man I think you gotta see this through

either way we end up free alone entombed

do you remember sleeping in the afternoon

cause I do I do I do I did and I still do…

Sometimes it makes sense like I’m a wishing well

today it breaks my heart to have to wish you well

tomorrow I won’t lie I won’t be feeling well

then after that who knows I guess

oh well, oh well.

Ashes to ashes

There’s no denying that’s a pretty face.

There’s no excuse still for being late.

The corner store’s got a sale on

greeting cards that sell half price love.

There’s truth in breathing at an even pace.

There’s beauty bending to bear the weight.

So either way you feel overwhelmed

exchanging coffee for whiskey now.

I’ve got a big bad wolf of a habit

full of hot air and over dramatics

Got a house built solely of glass when

I huff and puff well nothing happens

I gave her cashmere for Christmas once.

She gave me friendship when I had none.

There’s proof in putting a sweater on

the back of someone you’re giving up.

I’ve got a big bad wolf of a habit

full of disdain for love when I have it

Got a house built solely of glass and

no stones left to throw just ashes ashes

Ashes to ashes to ashes to ashes

to ashes to ashes to ashes

to ashes to ashes

to ashes to

ashes to

ashes.

I’ll make it perhaps

The light in here is bad

The shadows hang their heads

I’m tired of this playlist

I’m tired of this bed

In sheets that are not mine

Busted strings don’t pass the time

The shadows hang their heads

In light of what they find

Am I really headed backwards?

Static fills my head

Am I really headed back there

Like I’m the walking dead

So I light the wick

And turn the page

Familiar is this pain

The light in here is fine

The shadows are just that

Perhaps I’m feeling better

Perhaps I’m coming back

Always and forever

Never fine

But

I’ll make it perhaps

a double edged sword

At some point it

almost feels like

for such a long time

you’ve only been

imitating life, or

perhaps that

death would be better

than all this

wasted life you seem

to be faking.

But retrospect is

a double edged sword.

It all just depends on

which angle you’re taking

and whom

you’re gunning for

really I don’t know

so

whatever…

..

.

October 31, 2011

Learning now to live alone

The air is still, bitter, cold

As time tells which way to go

I’ll keep warm inside a poem

Memories are

Memories

are brutal

in their infancy,

much more

beautiful in

their adolescence,

yet quite more

honest

in their maturity

are memories

bound to our being

like shadows cast

on a garden wall

where a rose bush

bent, stands crutched

to a stake of wood,

delicate are it’s thorns

our memories

they too are.

her face

Under her face

somewhere under there

was her face, though

she didn’t show it often

I’d seen it before

in the morning light

before the sun skewed

her senses and

she’d cover it up with lies

littered with freckles

hard jaw and subtle age lines

as if two crows took a tango

on the corners of her brown eyes

and when she’d turn

away from the mirror, falling

effortlessly into my arms

I could barely hold her up

for she was far more strong

than any weight I could bear

and her face made that clear

as she’d slowly cover up

everything that made

her beautiful.

features remain neutral

At the same time

everything is happy

everything is sad,

it’s where I’m at

and somehow

it isn’t all that bad.

Smile and a frown

features remain neutral

while cars pass down

Magnolia and “Córdoba,

Leyana y sola…”

my home

is just

an illusion

under cloud.

artificial berries

She’s

artificial berries

passing in the wind

smiling and joking

contemplating

sea salt

or vinegar

laughing with a friend

while she pretends

to listen I grin

because her

artificial smile

and posture a 10

in the long run

really

makes no difference.