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How far West are you willing to go
she asked in the hills of Mulholland
Far enough I said, gripping the dash
Flooring it through winding curves
she closed her eyes and said
If it’s not over the edge than don’t bother
And that’s when I knew she’d never exist
Hitting the breaks and pulling over
I looked out upon the city
quietly
I was alone
It’s a shame
how much more
I need all of them
the one’s I have loved
when I break they bend
made not of wood
or stone just amends
a man on his knees
who now understands
the difference between
women and men
is the woe that binds
two hearts like a thread.
like fine grains
of sand
everyone I love
falls through my hands
to a beach
of salty air
and deserted
summers
I wade
at bay with the tide
which pulls me
further
and further
from the shore
Even dulling my senses
doesn’t do the trick
when the truth
is knocking at the door
in fact it’s already inside
warming it’s feet by the fire
smiling in my direction
while I bring it tea
because it asked
and knows
I’m completely defeated.
How to this
How to that
There’s a How to: For Everything
Everything but this.
You know who you are.
We are built up of
so many different lives.
Like thieves in the night
we steal bits without telling
those we’ve robbed.
How curious it is that those bits
would be so conveniently
left out for our taking.
How awfully clever too.
Everything is quiet now
in the middle of the day
where misery has settled down
like bricks on my chest lay
and although I can’t make a sound
my voice has gone astray
I will not settle underground
tomorrow I shall wake
to soft sounds of the morning
like loved ones I have lost
reminders that my mourning
is not in vain but just
and in the shadows of my mind
to where I now so lay
forgive me father for I have sinned
relieve me of this day.
There is so much to live for
and so much we will lose in the process.
My heart aches at the thought of it
so much so that I often dive down
the wishing well in hopes of finding
anything tangible other than this loss.
But it is inevitable.
We will lose everything we touch
and in the end find ourselves
empty handed
at the crossroads
with nothing but our souls to bargain.
There is no
If
And
Or
But
About it
My focus is a pinball
With
No
Credits
Left
To play.
The silence
this heat wave
these pale white walls
sunlight and
floorboards whisper
it’s time to go outside.
Words Of An Average White Male 