Goodbye
goodbye is a language of it's own
it speaks in an absence
it puts tears on repeat
goodbye writes a name
on everything.
goodbye honks
when the light turns green
goodbye is startling
goodbye is anorexic
goodbye is starving.
goodbye speaks for itself
it lays you down
keeping you up
it dreams for you
while you wrestle with
unopened promises.
goodbye tells the same story
again to the same
friendly person
and goodbye is determined
to solve the problem
but it is as blind as you are deaf
to this silence
that goodbye left.

Flight

all my words are birds

blocked in a headlock.

snapped awake

like an alarm clock.

every curse

to demonstrate

i act

like an acrobat

and flip the switch

all my limbs intact.

the type shakes

but you don't react,

that is that.

bay hound,

hound bay.

bellow

to the

sorrowful

holiday.

overachiever,

rattling weather.

a simple blue sky

more beautiful then you

or them or i...

flying.

the rafters come lower.

the town is over dressed

in out of towners

and one lone dog

cries to the loners.

alone at Ihop

eavesdropping

numb stare of eyes

the blue of pavement, flecked

maple syrup on my elbows

elbows on the table

conversations like birds

snickering around me

"he was the one with the swollen throat... throat cancer i think.. smoking."

that's an elderly man. sing songy.

"my defects... well i haven't gotten there yet."

a young man. pride.

and then i hide my phone in my lap and play tetris

i pretend to be texting

a black haired boy across the aisle is snapping away at his video game.

not hiding. greasy haired. all in black. not hiding.

i contemplate bulimia.

but i'm already attached to my swelling belly.

i give up.

i twitch and tick. I mind less and less.

why does age take such caring, such pretense away?

screw it, i think. i'm interesting to watch.

i'm hiding and i fit in,

i fit into my hiding place.

there are too many poems in my heart

they waste my words on you

they make me alone

sugarless tracks in the snow

dragging my eyes

across bright burning cold.

i saw what i wanted to see

until the truth saw me.

a wave of stars

smashed up against your word

trash talk

dreams i can't remember anymore.

we were so long ago.

french kissing in the car

our eyes met on a thin line of lightning

our bodies jagged electricity

like how one travels down a mountain.

you are the son of your own destiny

and i am something else,

entirely.

Hurricane katrina

jesus loves whores

so you are forgiven by someone.

don't be flattered,

your sins are not original.

god did not put a third step between your two step

and my love. on blue and broken feet.

green fields you plowed through,

were picture windows blown out.

lives are so tender! i shout,

you broke the glass animal that was my heart.

smug bitch,

where are your words of wisdom now?

i divorce your quiet

with my own confessions

on this unsigned document

of the truth.

my superpower is love.

i have cramps
a couple of days ago the sky was a blue color i have never seen before.
it was an unrecognizable sky
i snapped a paranormal photograph with my eyes.
my heart is driving to the desert
i sigh
i curl into the italian
a short cry
and for dreams are his

i am not enough
he is not enough
there is never enough
enough is enough is enough is enough (song i danced to in the fifth grade in my bedroom covered in horse ribbons).
enough already
enough said

The problem with a heart
is that it doesn't have a brain.
I think a heart has limits.
i don't want it to..
 but i think it does.
when is enough enough?
when is it not enough?
when does love say no!
...stop and let go.
i don't fucking know!

dreamt my dad was off-roading in a cadillac, jumping it into an unswimmable river on the east side.  i had a horse in a hospital elevator.  the horse got nervous when i did.  he quivered and tensed..

i drove in circles.
narcotic romantic
circles.
my loves crashed
into me trying to swerve
away.

i don't learn
and neither do they.

how do you miss something you never became?

Afterlife

not often enough

are we speaking

in reference to afterlife

to the understanding

of our limits on legs

underfoot

the monster undertow

of tomorrow

is like a camouflaged submarine

barely crawling.

a magnet below us

pulling.

we laugh and scream

and finger cars

that cut us off

and slow our progress

to another meaningless

meeting of details,

sketches of something

we plan to goddamn make happen.

and every breath taken for granted

until this magic carpet is pulled out from under us

and we awake to the simple ending

ahead of all of us.

i want skinnier legs.

i am all human.

i am perfect.

i hate myself.

i thank God for what i have.

i am full of opposites.

i am in the trenches and high as a kite.

and low drowning in the river

and skating on fragile ice.

i am nothing

and if not everything

sigh. i want skinnier legs.

Clouds

we ran in tight circles

that stretched into serpentines,

ribbon candy and sparrows.

we parked behind the Toys R Us

in the air conditioned car.

we split a sandwich

and put our sunglasses on the dash.

we watched the greenbelt do the wave,

the clouds demonstrating their talent.

the trees like people in stadium seats

a sweep of shadow crossing the wooded valley

leaving behind a gulley

flush with light.

sometimes romance

is a surprise exhibition from clouds.

we are always who we were

go on.

with your bad self.

i haven't blogged in awhile. i'm busy. certainly not less to say.. but i've been putting it into songs rather than poetry. also i have no internet at my apartment right now. which is awesome! which sucks!

i'm working at the coffee shop again. i am a grateful barista. the money is good, the customers are beautiful and i drink coffee all day. it is a very good situation.

the band is playing lots of shows and we are getting better and better. i love those guys. they have given me my heart back. every show we do i feel happier and happier. it is like life has been breathed back in me.

i am waking up with songs in my mouth. there is a marching band on a loop through me.. making circles of my thoughts.. making stories of my circles.. making songs from scratch.

Dance hall

the stars were widespread

dappled dark horse

sky. texas night.

black heart

trucks parked

outside the dance hall

below the whore house.

no one died here though

i can feel it

the lack of ghosts.

something is missing.

it's saturday night

and the kids are all dancing

like ponies

in circles

around and around the ring.

and i stand

judge and observer

audience member

against a post

my failing back out.

smiling.

a slow and quiet grieving.