As If We Existed

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

From the corner…

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

What Could Possibly Matter More Than Meaning What You Don’t Have The Answers For?

What’s the point in asking the question

If your voice is already defeated

I’d go blind just trying to see it

You know everyone is trying to beat it—

If there’s pain then that means there’s a reason

If there’s truth then it’s hard to believe in

Still it’s hard not to relive this feeling

Where everyone everyone’s stealing—

It’s like selling your grief for a grievance

Why the hell would you even break even

Doing all we could to deceive them

It’s all wasted time wasting time healing—

It’s like playing pretend dressed in your skin

Or saying the pledge of allegiance

When there’s no one to please or believe in

It only matters as much as you mean it

French New Wave Lifestyles

She seemed relatable

like a French new wave film—

Her hair was tangled by

the absence of the thrill—

My mind fell blind in the dark

each movement felt removed

In black and white it all looks like

some senseless noir doom.

Descending ladders with a

backwards forward view—

Replaced reminders taken

for some other you—

She stepped calm in the light

another foreign move

In black and white it all seems like

you just might make it through.

Now there’s a towel on the floor

white as a dove

Transcending shadows as if

orders from above

The clock just turns and spins

a spiral of what’s lost

In black and white it all feels like

we’re dying to be caught.

In black and white it all looks like

there’s nothing to turn off.

The Price You Pay For Being Born

A couple days of patience

and a miners rest, she’s

Sleeping like a baby

in her Sunday’s best, I

didn’t wake her up

I was too forlorn, but

That’s what you get for being born—

I was taking out the trash

like the other weak, with

The temper of a mime

I began to speak, when

She woke she’d a fever

and a thousand words, I

Guess I’d spoken them all before—

Must be something in the water

cause I’m overboard, with

The seaweed and the starfish

dried out on the shore, it’s

Nothing I would suggest

drowning in a well, it’s

Just a way to be by yourself—

She dreamt of her family

from the outer space, and

Gave me a healing

full of peace and grace, but

I took it for granted

like most lovers do, it’s

Loud as hell in this quiet room—

Words form a meaning

if you spin them right, it’s

Like turning hay to gold

if it’ll save your life, so

Leave the baby in the basket

wrapped by your front door, it’s

The price you pay for being born—

Acting like you don’t know is an art in itself

It’s hard

To see

Out this pit

Of despair

When you’re down

On your knees

In the cold

Summer air

And it’s hard

To conceive

Memories

When you care

Looking for

What you lost

In a house

Built of mirrors

And it’s hard

When you know

All of this

Is a joke

Convinced

Or exposed

Either way

There’s a host

To obey

Or believe

In what you

See in me

That’s alright

It’s ok

Sip your honey

and tea

I just thought

You should know

I don’t know—

Yeah I know

Tchotchke

You read my sadness

Word for word

Like I’m a novelty

Then put me down

Back in my place

Some oldtime tchotchke—

And I wonder how it feels,

Window shopping too?—

From the corner of my gladness

To the outskirts of your sadness

Where nothing is for certain

And no one is to blame

Except we don’t glimmer anymore

Or sparkle like we used to—

Ornamental at our best

Tokens from another life

Failure of odds

I was in love with the odds of failure

so I did all I could to succeed, and did.

And didn’t.

All in the same go, all in the same stop.

Tongues

I’ve tasted many tongues,

but saved the slammed doors

and holes in sheet rock for

the one’s I’d somehow outgrown,

knowing them sincere like

an afternoon alone or

tastebuds in the morning sun—

after enough drinks to make me social,

after enough drinks to make me honest,

after enough drinks to make me pure—

unwilling to apologize for the bad taste

tongue tied like a little kid hoping

to be lost in the shuffle and left alone,

where features seize to be and

voices make no sound where

nobody feels and nobody hurts.

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.