Nowhere

We’re all just kind of nowhere, aren’t we?

When we convince ourselves we’re not,

that we’re somewhere worth being?

Then like flypaper pulled apart

time disconnects from space

and we’re left stuck

sticking to the things we swore we’d part.

And just like that

we’re nowhere again,

left waiting to forget how good it felt

to be somewhere.

Enough.

We go to those we trust

Because even if they hurt us

The least we know’s they care

And knowing that much

Sometimes is enough.

The Other

For every peace I’ve lost

I picked up another

And another, then another

Till I could hardly tell

The difference between

Myself, them—or the other.

The Company We Keep

You might just find yourself

Very much alone and

Without anyone to call so

If you’re unwilling to change then

I just want you to know that

No matter what I’ll be there

Waiting with myself

Waiting for your company

Chandelier

I gave you yours

You gave me mine

The sewer’s innocent

We walked for miles

Time to time

In soles that didn’t fit

Our arms they fell like chandelier

The climax of a play

Then died like Dylan Thomas done

We knew no other way

6+2 is 8

I won’t be getting better

Though I’ll play it like I do

You know I’m not that clever

Or else then I’d be you—

A quick laugh

I’m good as a quick laugh

Sharp and direct

Needless to say the least

There’s no reason to react

Salt

Whenever it feels

I’ve nothing left,

I’ve always got a little.

And a pocket full of salt—

This Wilde Charade

The romantic in me

Wants to kick the charade

And love you less like Shakespeare—

But it’s this Portrait

Of Dorian Gray that’s damned me Wilde

I don’t dare

Laying Down and Underpainting

She called our love kitsch

From the 17th floor

Williamsburg high rise

Overlooking homeless in the park

Under dressed and over exposed

Was I kidding her or just killing myself?

Fascinated by her manic beauty

As she tore apart the morning in disguise

Throwing fits of rage like I’d paper in a bin

Stripping away my senses like her past

It wasn’t as much a choice as it was survival

Leaving her lust like the vanilla

She tasted on my ghost

While laying down the underpainting

For her latest masterpiece in loss