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Explanation Unexplained

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Excuse me while I hide myself away a while.

I’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you have too.

It wasn’t a bad day, but a day like many others.

I even won 15 dollars on a scratcher.

I spent 12 on a pack of smokes, and I don’t even smoke anymore.

So please, if you’ll excuse me

I seem to be a bit confused.

I seem to need more time with the stars.

I know myself well enough to know

when I’d be bad company, and, well

I’m trying not to make the same mistakes I always do.

Excuse me for the dramatics, in fact, I’m really quite o.k.

Let’s just say old habits don’t leave until they’re done.

Let’s just say the moon is kind of jealous of the sun.

Let’s just say these ways of old aren’t helping anymore.

I was so lost and alone that, I grew comfortable there.

I grew selfish and liked to see myself disappear.

I’m trying though it’s hard,

then talking to a friend makes it easier.

It makes me somewhat likable again.

Because I know I’ll wake up

wishing I was there with you instead of here.

I’m just tired is all and

looking out my window now,

the sun’s begun to rise.

It’s beautiful isn’t it?

I want it to make me sick, but it doesn’t.

I want it to make me sad, and it does.

I want to stop thinking a thousand thoughts, but I can’t.

I best close my eyes now, before I fall asleep.

(we owe ourselves) The Real Thing

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We don’t often get the real thing.

Or allow ourselves to be vulnerable while at peace.

Often we’re told to keep our chin up.

To stand up straight, and don’t ask questions.

Often we’re told lies.

Boy don’t speak out of turn.

Missy know your place.

It’s when we answer fearful calls.

It’s when we ask the harder questions.

It’s when we choose to be defiant,

to be honest with ourselves,

it’s when we find our truth sincere

that we start to become most vulnerable.

Then, and only then

will we allow ourselves that peace,

the piece that we’ve been missing,

that feels so familiar, so simple, so pure.

So much so that pure feels like a dirty word.

—

It’s this peace we can deny our whole lives over,

or accept that we’re a match

ready and willing to burn ourselves alive—

just to get the real thing.

The Good Fight

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Sometimes, not very often

but sometimes,

I’m afraid to read my own writing.

I have my reasons for most

though others I don’t.

It’s the one’s I don’t remember

writing, I think

that alarm me more than any.

It’s the one’s that keep

coming back

in different forms over the years

that sound my silent alarm.

It’s the breath you forget taking.

It’s the secret you don’t tell.

After playing with enough language

what room is there for air?

It’s not very often, but sometimes

yes sometimes, I’m frankly more aware

of the sirens through my window

reminding me to breathe,

reminding me to listen,

reminding me to fear

not that what I have written

but what I’ve yet to right—

there’s so much life within me still

sometimes, it feels

I’ve just begun this fight.

Happy New Year

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So it’s your last day, aye!

Then you’re off the hook,

sayonara! ur revoir!

c’est la vie!

365 days of poetry

is no minor feat, especially

the third time around, Geez—

to say your daily musing will be missed

would be an understatement, I admit

I’m guilty of my daily dose, except—

Char, you’ve got moxie.

(“and that’s what I appreciates most about you”)

So when the clock strikes twelve

full of champagne cheer, Hark!

Hear, Hear! That firework’s for you

and a happy, Happy New Year!

this god damn ghost of me

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if i could live with someone’s hope

forever till we part

i’d at least be able to see

beyond the ashes on my fingertips

and the cough tucked under-sleeve,

perhaps then maybe i could sleep?

longer than it takes to wake and find

who i’m not, or who i’d rather be—

cause it’s such a drag to smile

then to give a laughing nod,

that even when i do it’s like

my mind just says enough—

so when sitting becomes quiet

with my shadow and the curb

i hear within the darkest corner

that hope i don’t deserve.

and if i know you well enough

i know you’ll disagree,

still hopelessly devoted to

this god damn ghost of me.

and it’s hardly ever good enough

in retrospect you’ll see

that hope distilled in all of us

is that in which i bleed—

ugly/beautiful

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it’s beautiful really

how nobody gets what they want

yet everyone gets what they deserve.

everyone’s gotta act so tough

when they know nothing of that’s pure

everyone’s gotta be so right

nobody has time anymore to be unsure.

well, I’ve given the better half of my existance

over explaining myself and inconsistent

I admit—but we play the parts we choose.

and I haven’t an apology left except

that one for myself, left by myself

for all those times I became the pillow,

the pillow to cushion the fall—

see after I gave up wanting to be saved

I realized that all that time, I was the cause

of all those wasted nights.

of all those broken mornings

picking up the pieces of myself

and cutting my hands on those of another.

it’s ugly really

how vulnerability’s questioned, but never heard.

how weakness is hardened, rather than healed.

how it feels happier to be alone

in the company of strangers,

than unrecognizable in the company you keep.

it all becomes so ugly

that it’s beautiful.

As If We Existed

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It wasn’t ever fun

Even when it lasted

There was always hidden

A motive and agenda

Something I couldn’t figure from afar—

I needed microscopic certainty

That I’d have to disappear

In order to remember—

For them to forget—

That either of us had ever existed

Courage, enough.

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I haven’t the words

Nor strength to stand

Any more

Of this illusion

Sealed in spit

And sketched by hand

Our world is done

What courage has man?

Our Love Never Wasn’t

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I haven’t seen you in a long time, to be frank I’m enjoying the silence.

I can’t commit to the truth it lies, cause it feels kind of like we are dying.

If I made you blue, I never wanted to.

It’s just love and our love never wasn’t.

There’s disappointment in her eyes, as he speaks she echos with silence.

Neither one is good at goodbyes still they always seem to be trying.

I will remember you, if you remember too.

It’s just love and our love never wasn’t, it’s just love and our love never wasn’t.

There’s a melody, in a harmony.

It’s just love and our love never wasn’t.

He sang to her a lullaby, she did all she could to stop crying.

They fell asleep in the moonlight, just two heartstrings played on violin.

Some day you’ll see, in a memory.

It’s just love and our love never wasn’t.

From the corner…

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I can see you laughing from

the corner of your smile

And it’s not the kind of laughter that

means hang around a while

And it’s not the kind of laughter that

says let me lend a hand

It’s the kind of smile that

tells you to drop dead—

I can see you laughing from

the corner of your eye

And it’s not the kind of laughter

that is taken by surprise

And it’s not the kind of laughter

that breaks before it bends

It’s the kind of sideways glare

that kills you from within

Cause I can see you laughing

and I hope it serves you well

In corners we’re all suffering

but I’m not laughing now