cut yer guts out.
burn yer house down.
speak soft there're traitors around.
less time than you think,
and more hunters
with sharp wit.
i saw them coming
but still tripped.
chew my bones girl.
i came here just for you.
we would look good sleeping with the fishes.
smokin sea weed.
blowin bubbles.
couldnt help but to
forget yer toubles.
i imagine
that i could go for some romance.
something like in these songs
people write about girls with long legs and young breasts.
something fast and electric.
i want to drink myself to death listening to music.
with scratches down my back.
killing me softly with this glass pipe.
maybe my ears will quit on the job.
and i wouldn't be interupted any further,
your stupid voice breaking my thoughts in half.
i would sing.
silently about girls in love.
and pretend to be attentive to your ramblings.
finally free, like that blood red bull
with the broken neck.
the buzzing through the air
spells blood and money
we are passing favors
hand to hand
like the dealers that swarm these corners
when the lights go out
gangster rap falls over us like a blanket
i feel warm underneath
(it also might be the summer heat, just outside
kicking at the windows)
my clothes all bear stains
battle wounds even
the skin breaks letting the art settle in
slow
i can feel the breeze from the fan on my neck(not my fan of course)
a masterpiece.
we couldn't be more ecstatic.
two hundred dollars.
i could get a bottle...
"hit me up if you need somethin else, maybe a sleeve? ha ha"
"I definitely will. Thanks a lot."
"no problem"
we shake hands.
It's all in the hustle.
save the spoils for the victor
the quitter quickly quit her
today I'm a reel to reel silent motion picture
a storm circles these rocky mountain blocks
searching for a parking spot
over the city
if you're with me then you're with me
if you're dizzy then they're working
the snows still lurking
in cloud bunkers
tossing thunder
like hand grenades
smoke fades
and so did the summer
we take a number to wonder
how long we've been under the weather
and the influence
truant and missing for instance
time is the distance
between the cracks in the concrete
where black sheep grass blades meet
to discuss the trials of living on the street
compete to complete
letting down the heat easy
with breezy conversation
sleazy masturbation of an already swollen ego
we go over heads and under the bridge
to rid ourselves of these useless eyelids
and fingers
thoughts still linger
but grey skies are for sad kids
beginners
so how the fuck are we supposed to separate the saint from the sinner
if they both plan on wearing their horns to dinner
how awkward
to share words with madness
and stability
june through september never feels that real to me
i can feel the mood changing
seconds slipping slow like
black and white
slide projections
i'm paranoid
caught up in anxious panic
traitors stalk
their knives reflect white from the snow
the first snow fall
i feel helpless/hopeless
she pulls at me
like the south does these straggling birds
be good to me
and i'll love you true
hold you above everything
that tries to cut our throats in our sleep
a man sits on the cusp.
waiting for his ship to sail.
he bites his fingernails, and watches the sharks just below the dock.
the wind swirls above his red hat in every direction.
He turns up the music in his headphones.
trying to be humble.
A girl steps off onto the dock.
She looks like rat poison to the man.
Beautiful.
Rich.
She looks determined as she ties off the boat.
"a storm is on it's way here." her lips full, and her teeth straight and white.
the man just sits ignoring. trying to skip any songs about love.
The rain poured.
lightning ripped at his sport coat.
his ticket soaked and sunk to the bottom of the bay.
the earbuds cracked and buzzed. finally giving in.
The man jumped into the water.
choked on the waves. Fed the hungry stomaches of the kings.
the girl watched from the paddle boat rental shack and ate an apple.
her lipstick looked even more red on the green of the skin.
so how'd we ever get on this awful island?
the ship has set sail, and we were busy tending to our wounds.
i keep cutting chunks out of my soul. (an old hunting knife i got from my dad as a kid, I actually stole it out of his drawer before he had a chance to give it to me. he wasn't angry. just happy i liked it. i just wanted to be tough, i never noticed how beautiful it was till much later. now it looks old, worn, mistreated.)
however, I feed the pieces to her, while she sleeps.
i hide sedatives deep in the tissue
she swallows them whole.
the sun peaks out at us from behind storms
and of coarse when it rains it pours,
and when she sleeps she snores, and
i play a very convincing victim.
but i'm the only villain left for miles,
i keep low and move even slower.
i could choke the life out of her,
and take back my sanity,
but i love the control she has over me.
we could re-populate this mother fucker you know?
except she is not interested in creating anything,
only deconstructing,
my defenses, my guard.
I am grateful though.
I can taste her skin in my sleep
so who needs sheep?
she is fucking beautiful.
not like a movie star,
but more like a summer morning,
when the sprinklers are firing, and the air is good.
the smell of the wet sidewalk...
so i fight the bottle with all this,
and fill my lungs with gods breath.
the glass is cold on my lips, so is the sea breeze.
the world moves slow while i pretend not to feel my days winding down
between my fingers.
love is for the birds.
I'm talkin vultures.
Dear Addiction,
Farewell.
All is well.
All is stale,
All will fail.
The man in the suit was a small man.
A ghost in a sea full of giants..
Yours truly.
You never knew me.
It still pushes through me.
fluidly.
my son is really growing up
his speech is broken and funny
it's remarkable how much love can fit inside my skin
i'm forced to put him to bed and push on my way
to tell stories
in blood and ink
fairy-tales that only run skin deep
hopefully he sees my duty to these lost souls
begging for new beginnings
begging for closure or for love to last
just this once....
I am only an instrument of emotion
a slave
but this is my role regardless
time falls with a crash all around me
my friends are no where to be seen
and i refuse to admit love
her brown hair tickling my face
it's only a matter of time
wrecked time without insurance
i can't give what i don't have
but i move on because my son shines from inside me
and fills me with inspiration
so i can lead the broken
the weary
the snow has an appointment with this salty city
tuesday afternoon
it's thursday night
late
he broke bread
and butter
between the sentences and
his fingers
he could feel the betrayal in the air
the beginning of an end
she's got a date...
with the devil.
in the morning it's hard to tighten my thoughts.
i spent last night in a flood of lights and club bass.
drinking heat and sweating over dancing girls.
baiting them out with singles and
(what i thought) warm inviting looks.
i can take you out of here.
fill your pockets and heart.
(my stomach hates me.wont stop cramping up.)
but she has no heart, just a hole in her nose.
and now enough dollars for a piece of granite exactly the same size.
just a robot in need of some grease.
gotta keep those joints from squiling ya know?
so i took the night off.
and the city slept fine.
i ended up staring at the ceiling and worrying.
about everyone else but her.
what a hero.
