I guess we drank wine, I don’t recall but a Polaroid tells me we did.
I lost track of time, all around me the world continued to spin.
Not like you were mine, I just talked to you when you came around.
I guess it was kind, of like two kids on a merry-go-round.
You wrote me a letter, from Santa Monica in June.
You said you felt better, and that you thought I’d like it too.
Come in December, and we could write poems in the park.
Then there was that blizzard, that left New York alone in the dark.
I was alone in the dark.
I guess that it’s time, to burn these memories you left behind.
I never did find, a more honest friend or a beautiful mind.
I hope that you found, the world that you set out to see.
And know that I’ll be, singing this from across the sea.
There is a certain understanding
In the misunderstanding of mankind.
And it’s this misunderstanding
that propels us forward, like a ship
of titanic proportions does not idle
but cuts through waves, and flows
with The Tides of Mankind.
The neighbors next door racket
The dirt, the grime
Reminds me of Grove Street
And Mac, sleeping
Angelic snores from a lofted bed
Where I sat, idle in the morning
Last nights memory a circus
Holding my piss, hungry
Waiting for Forest to finish his shower
So as I could relieve myself
And head back to Long Island
Where I’d dream of dying
In my studio by the sea
It all just felt so dull sometimes
Uninspired and too common place
That I’d do anything it took
To convince them otherwise
Mixed up I believed fire could walk on water
Then became the fool to my own dirty tricks
Until she told me the eye of the sea
Could never be lost or found, but that
It was always there, brilliant and dazzling
And that, it was waiting inside of me
Funny, how a song
sung over the years
can seem, so foreign
even to me, with a chorus
not even I can relate to
any longer than it takes
to finish the mornings
cup of coffee, spilled
to form a Rorschach Test
no longer necessary
to indulge or engage,
just enjoying the view
from a bridge overseas.
There is something very scary
about imagining a life without flaw,
as if insecurities were a sin
you could merely pray away?
There’s something cynical in that,
Something I haven’t the heart to feel,
it’s something impervious.
Because with great peril comes
an even greater awakening, an awakening
which floods the veins with frozen certainty
as the waters eating the Titanic.
It’s the time between collision
and capsizing, which we find ourselves
relieved of our blind faith, knowing
with grave admiration, the life
we’re living, is all we have.
Halogen yellow bursts
of light, turn signals
burn bright, through
white lines of Topanga
Morning sunrise, her and I
up all night, we rise
like silhouetted tree
under the belly of LA sky,
gaze upon a sea of fog
clouds, shower faint
The slammed door said I’m hurting.
The silence said I’m scared.
The walls between us listened
when no one seemed to care.
The portraits on the wall,
oh how they seemed stare,
where deep within night
the stars poured ever clear.
The door knob turned eventually
as silence did it’s head,
the sea between us parted and
the portraits went to bed.
While all the world was sleeping
with all their monsters fed,
the boy and girl slept soundly
no sooner had they met.