Love That Book

You recommend a book to me.

I read it till my eyes grow tired.

It’s not a long book by any means,

but a book this good doesn’t have to be—

To make my eyes feel warm like fire.

Let Me Help You Stand

When there’s no one left to listen,

just the silence of your heart

It’s there you’ll learn the lesson,

for later to impart

Within all life’s little blessings,

a simple walk around the park

I offer you this dear confession,

I’ve always loved you from afar—

I know I haven’t made this easy

I’ve been a bitter, jilted man

But I admit the damage to me

has solely been from my own hands.

I know I haven’t made this easy

Somehow you always understand

And every time that I have fallen

you’re always there to help me stand—

When there’s no one left to listen,

darling let me be your man

I don’t want to be your burden,

this time let me help you stand—

This time let me help you stand.

This Shallow Darkness

It’s 8am when I mix NyQuil and coffee, knowing

getting out of bed can be just the same as staying in.

It’s sort of like how kind words sound profane

when they’ve just bout lost there meaning.

Washing my face, have I reused this puppy dog look

one too many times that all that’s left is ugly?

I’ve made mistakes before, though this, it feels different, or

is it exactly the same one I make every time I lock the door?

It’s like hearing the front gate slam shut

then looking out the window, only to see yourself walking away.

The brain sends signals to the mouth—consider screaming—

but what’s a voice without an ear of reason?

What’s the point of footnotes, when you’re drawing them in chalk?

And even though it doesn’t rain that often, on good days it does.

So brushing yellow teeth, I spit blood into the sink

then cough a couple times before padding down the hall.

Now slouching towards the sunlight, it’s effortless this pain.

These calluses remind me that I’m doing the right thing.

Milling about I feel nothing, so it’s now I know to leave.

That rainbow in the sky, oh how it bends before it bleeds.

By the time I catch myself at the corner

and reattach this shallow darkness to my feet,

it’s a cool, crisp sort of day, where the smog smells sweet.

It’s a cool, crisp sort of silence, watching traffic in the street.

It’s a cool, crisp morning.

And I’ve no reason to complain.

Keep trying but, I don’t scare that easy.

The lights are on,

but the drive’s not there.

I wonder if this happens to everyone?

I’m sure it does, except

I’m not everyone.

And you, you’re part of them but lately

only half as strong.

Does that sound correct?

Or am I just scratching an itch

not meant to be scratched?

Am I bucketing a well

when all that’s left is rain?

I hear you when you say you’re tired.

I’m tired too.

And when you say you’re trying, love

I’m trying too.

I feel you when you’re breaking,

partly because I’m breaking too.

I feel it when your heart is aching,

since mine’s been split in two.

What’s left than but a couple lines?

Enough to prove our sorrow?

For all the many times I’ve died

I’ve always seen tomorrow.

It’s hardest when you say

the words that help you sleep,

so sleep as many days

as it took for me to wake.

Besides, I feel much better since

I know this fight’s a gas,

it’s a wonky handle left we clutch

of a longing meant to last.

So Easy

There’s nothing wrong with me.

There’s nothing wrong with you.

You asked me once what I don’t like

and I thought that was cruel.

Imagining that someone once

had made a list for you.

It breaks my heart and darling that is something I’d never do.

See I might have my flaws,

and you might have yours too

But in your eyes I see a light that shines on through and through.

Is this what they told us love could be?

Cause you make it all

so easy.

It feels like how twilight reflects onto snow.

It feels like I’m finally ready to go home.

I knew it when I saw you

wear that crimson dress.

With converse on and your hair down

I nearly lost my breath.

Is this what they told us love could be?

Cause you make it all

so easy.

The Perks of You

As daylight wanes, and night begins

there’s rapture in the air.

With static thought, and moonlit eyes

I see it all too clear.

What’s written in the stars, is written in the sand.

What’s written on the heart, is written now by hand.

My love for you is twilight.

My love for you is snow.

My love for you is many things, my love for you is old.

I’ve kept it in the shadows, of poetry and light.

I’ve kept it in the darkness, to brighten up my night.

Just know my heart is dancing, like fire unto stone.

Just know my heart is breaking, each night I am alone.

As daylight comes, I feel you near—

the darkness goes away.

The perks of you are endless still, your love’s a weathervane.

Four Walls And Myself.

Head in palm I sit defeated.

It’s not out of necessity

but choice, I think how come?

In a world of opportunity, what’s left of me but this?

Tangled in my heartache, what’s left for me but this?

Fist to chin I sit and wait,

for thought to turn to word, to pen.

Has writing any of this down, ever made me any sense?

Has stewing in this endless grief, ever made me any cents?

It’s times like this I dare not move.

I dare not speak but listen,

to the winds which wrap my innocence

in a shroud of Turin—distant.

What’s left of me but gall?

The daylight helps me see,

somewhere within this shell of me

is darkness and that’s all.

I wish I had the answer, the one you claim to see.

I wish I had your courage, your courage to believe.

This wooden desk is cold.

My heart is growing old.

I’d rhyme a couple lines or two, if younger were my skin.

Settling I feel, my insides wearing thin.

What’s left of me but this?

What’s left for me is everything I fear to touch with reason.

What’s left of me’s so tangled in the ever changing seasons.

With arms crossed round my chest, I sit in awful doubt.

It’s here I know the meaning, of four walls and myself.

It’s here I risk repeating, a fate which is not mine.

It’s here I hope I’m worthy still, of love which I’ve denied.

A Leap Of Faith.

Things start to break when you let people in.

Ever notice that?

It starts out small with a glass or a plate,

maybe a phone charger, then a window.

Plans with friends start to teeter.

Promises become obligations.

Without you knowing, things start to change.

Long before the heart does, the brain does.

Smiles become madness, answers become questions.

Who am I without you here?

Where do you go when I can’t follow?

Are you happier without me, or do you just need you?

I wish I didn’t have to know all this, but I do.

I do what I do and I know what I don’t.

I’m a god damn fool.

It’s optional though, when things start to break.

You don’t have to be stupid or choose to be cruel.

What you need to do is let the right ones in

and let the wrong ones know

there was never anything wrong with them at all.

It’s a leap of faith.

It’s a faith I’ve had in many,

though now I see and understand

it’s a leap within myself I need to take.

It’s the pieces I’ve kept together I need to break.

Paranoia

These days of paranoia.

I’ve done it to myself.

The skin around my finger’s tight and raw.

My front tooth’s chipped and my back’s out of place.

I black out for my own protection.

Everyone’s concern, I’d rather soon forget.

Everyone understands until I mention it.

Will you bring me back home

to that place I left but never left?

Is the only reason I escaped

to remember until death?

A slippery slope?

No,

it’s just one I haven’t leapt.

I know I should be smarter, but

I’m an adult now, and

I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to anymore.

Besides, I’m a sucker for punishment.

A slave to myself.

I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t need it to survive.

I’d be stupid if I didn’t admit that this has all just been a long winded good bye.

How strong are we?

We’re a very resilient bunch.

And we don’t give ourselves enough credit.

We give ourselves hell, and worry half to death.

We sweat, and stir, and think ourselves depressed.

We apologize for feeling in fear we’re being judged.

We’d rather bury our shame than see ourselves alive.

I know because I have,

and it’s a mean bitch to break.

It’s a cheerful judge and jury

who know nothing of our sorrow,

who predict us by our sin

and relish in our fate.

That other voice inside ourselves would rather condemn us for our failures

than see us for how far we’ve come.

Our life’s a disappearing act that’s always on display.

We struggle, fight, without respite until our dying day.

Nothing’s ever good enough.

No one is here to stay.

Would it kill you to feel at peace, in the presence of yourself?

Would it kill you to feel at home, in the love of someone else?

Not everyone’s out to get you, but some I’m afraid are.

Your private life’s not meant to be the butt of someone’s joke.

It’s when I whisper to myself, I feel most sincere.

While everyone is sleeping Lord it’s then I shed a tear.

It’s enough to drown my sorrow, enough to drown myself.

I’d give up everything you know to become someone else.

But even that is false I know in fact my heart regardless breaks,

for all the fattened silly saps who refuse to embrace,

this love we harness willing, this love we share in doubt,

this love we try to hide behind in fear we’d love ourselves.

It’s hard now to be honest when I’ve only half the plot,

still I know that I’m trying even when it seems I’m not.

You see, if we were a system

or a code that one could break,

this life would be unbearable, a pre-determined fate.

It’s why feeling lost is common.

It’s why letting go is hard.

It’s why seeing our own reflection feels like staring in the dark.

It’s why a single day seems agonizing.

And years just skip likes stones.

It’s while thoughtless in the afternoon

I feel I’m getting old—

except for children passing

one falls and scrapes his knee,

he cries and cries

then like the sun, he rises and forgets—

It’s then that I’m reminded, how old I felt at 9

and all the weight I carried, was really never mine.

What often gets me’s this, how quickly we forget.

How strong are we?

We’re strong as fuck,

resilient until death.