March 23, 2004

late at night with nothing to dream

I'm running circles in my bed

I am bored out of my mind

and I can't get you out of my head

I can't seem to forget your laugh

misplace your smile

lose your company

but I can't begin to find you

in the space that's right beside of me

I wish it wasn't like it is

it’s in my nature to be alone

but you don't feel the same as me

I can hear it in your tone

but I don't feel it in your touch

you wouldn't let me get that close to you

so I pretend I'd rather be like this

what else am I supposed to do

except lay in bed tonight

and watch the darkness on the ceiling

and contemplate the simple solution

to all the loneliness I'm feeling

March 11, 2004

I let her slip away again

I'm better off than on

she's a danger to my health

and I'll feel better when she's gone

things keep changing like the wind

that's stinging deep into my skin

I'm better off than on

so I'll be heading back on in

to make another late-night visit

to listen to the stories that she tells

about a girl in love, innocence

they are obviously about someone else

she may linger in my mind

bunny tells me all the time

she might fall for my cheep tricks

down deep she's cheep inside like me

but still, I fall for her every time

how much more cliche could I be

I see I'm better off than on

I'll feel better when she's gone

but if she'd let me stay a while

and get in close enough to touch

I'd live for the smell of her body

I bet that I could change so much

I'm better off without her

her feelings seem to be gone

it's too bad I still feel for her

but I'm better off than on

March 7, 2004

all my best attempts are wasted

on girls I wish I never met

on a hand I knew I'd never win

on odds better left un-bet

so I cash in my remaining chips

just a little behind in the end

I've lost my money

I've lost my pride

I've gained a so-called friend

I called my therapist today

to ask for some love advice

she held my hand and calmed my fears

who knew a girl could be so nice

its time to go back to my old tricks

I've got lots of lies to return

I've got pain to give

time to get my kicks

and lots of love to burn

August 22, 2003

I've collected you up

into ripped pieces of paper

with your name and number

a heart and

"call me later"

you've written down your excuses

and left them on the table

with the mail

and a scribbled sign that says

"love for sale"

I take my own advice

and climb aboard the ride

as I slowly read your reasons

and don't have the energy

to wonder if you lied

I'm just bored with being a bore

tired of spending the night

with the same old whore

but the bars are closed

and it's time to go home

but it's not home anymore

and I'm not going there alone

so I crawl down the street

in a moment of haste

so what if I didn't leave with you

there's too much time to waste

and not enough things to do

there aren't very many options

another doctor perscribed

friday night

we'll feel a whole lot better

if it ends in a fight

there's still a few more chances to take

while the sleeping stars are unafraid

a few more corners to wait on

when I'm waiting on you

a few more days of this

before I tell you I'm through

May 3, 2003

so it begins again

this same feeling has made me hollow

like my long lost friend

like I'm in love with the sorrow

I can't write you a poem

without a good excuse to cry

so I

disguise myself with lonliness

to create another reason why

and pass another season by

I can still see the same hollow feeling

in your eyes

just out of reach but not out of mind

stay with me if you can find the time

to rewind

to when your eyes

were not so hollow as mine

they were the only hope that I still had

how I wish

I didn't miss you so bad

May 24, 2009

The freeway sputtering through the sunroof

Is thick with a June afternoon.

Humid, nearly wet, from summer days to come.

My thoughts are wandering sloppily, skipping

Through possibilities rapidly.

I won't settle down into an idea for a week or two

At which time I'll probably get stuck on missing you.

I'm trying harder than before to let go.

My intentions were clear,

And your "reasons" clearly excuses.

But I won't blame you, I've got baggage to drag around,

And you are light, like a beach towel floating

On long, healthy, summer grass.

All this wondering is stupid after all.

Worthless pondering, forcefully formulating a perspective.

If I had less of an angle, there might have been more room

For something other than all-or-nothing.

And right now you could convince me to pretend

To be as indifferent as you'd like

If it ment you'd lay down with me tonight

And let me taste again a little of the good life.

Now that's something I can spend a long ride dreaming of.

But I'd be better off to think of anything but,

So I'll spend the next few hours dreaming of mixed nothings

Even though nearly everything reminds me of you.

May 23, 2009

This space is mine.

While you take yours, withdrawing from my room,

I will make room for myself, and hope.

Although hope is hard to hold tonight.

Tonight is not unlike many others,

Churning yesterday and the day before

Over and over until worn and blended;

A barely noticable scar. 

And who can blame you, when it's timing at fault.

I'd done the same to you, there's proof.

And your excuse is better than my

Dissapearing act. And our reasons are nearly the same,

Or so I can hope.

And hope that timing will find it's place,

Sometime around the corner of the coming season.

May 20, 2009

How did we go from rushing home from work and class

And canceling plans for me-and-you,

And ice cream on a Sunday night

Past bedtime. To "too serious". What is so serious

about falling and love anyway?

I'm fed up with too-far-in-between. I'm tired of

Heart-on-my-sleve, it works so much better

When it's take-it-or-leave-it. But I'm not nearly

Over feeling sorry-for-myself. Can you blame me?

I've got a glass of wine and some DVR to keep my company.

And a poem I wrote for you, that I can't share.

I guess I deserved it after all. I guess I can't complain.

But I will.

January 29, 2009

In this caffinated dream it seems my ends

End up pointing in the same direction.

I'm twisted up on top of myself.

I'm carefully configuring a life too soon.

It's much too early in the morning to feel so alone.

And ironic, that late tonight I'll yearn to be so.

And a winding ride, will ease my mind.

With solem stride, I'll get myself right.

But where is my light? I have only the moon.

What happened to Sunday afternoon?

April 24, 2008

So what about today?

Yesterday was way too soon,

But can we wait until tomorrow?

And if the time never comes,

What will we say, what remains?

Can we stretch our finite time

Into a rectangle, and press it under glass?

How long until the wine corks

Stop smelling? How long until

Your bobby pins have all disappeared?

Questions linger above the floor

Like static balloons, low on helium.

And you move through me, with a breath

Of the suade. Your skin, sweat--

Your love comes easing back into me.

And you shake me, but I pretend

It goes unnoticed. And I don't

Hate you, I couldn't.

Though I've tried, you know

A piece of you lives inside of me forever.

March 6, 2008

When I woke up at 4am, the TV wasn't on.

I found it hard feel my way accross the floor

Without the flickering light, I guess you're gone.

I live in the pictures of us before,

When things were good-- although never great for long.

I've still got a piece of you in my back pocket,

But no silver locket, no impulsive tattoo.

You still sing to me in my bedside fan,

Cling to me in my grandmothers quilts,

Speak softly through the smell I find in my pillow.

For now, I will carry you with me,

A burden I won't mind, 

Mostly because I can't get you out of mine.

October 8, 2008

I used to love the afternoons

that was when there was a me and you

now there's me, somewhere you

and the evenings are all I have to brighten my mood

a glass of pino, a TV show

some time with myself

and a little time alone

there's my dog, my e-mails

and there is always tomorrow morning

no matter how much I try to stretch

today's calm night sky a few more hours

but after tomorrow morning's coffee

work, a quick lunch with a book

the evening will reappear

crisp as ever, welcoming

and I can hope it won't fade again

imagine the morning is not so near

I can always hope

September 30, 2008

As I'm sliding into a Wednesday morning

Straight towards alarms and iced, black coffee

I wonder.

If it was closer to last Sunday, just forty-eight hours

How much less backtracking would it take?

But now it's too late.

Soon I'll be climbing out of Tuesday

And tripping on my responsibilities along the way

But do I dare.

And who cares?

It's been just a prominade of yesterdays

A continuous crashing of tomorrows

With me stuck in the middle.

September 15, 2008

There is time left, if just enough,

There is time. Time to unwind

This ball of string and wire.

Time to make more out of a mess,

A tangle that very well could have been less.

There are wings left to be worn.

And worn out.

Wings to carry a single person

From the hole, gliding on the air.

Air as stiff as a hesitated breath on a neck

During a whispered, half-hearted, "I love you."

There are still knots, some stronger

Than I can be right now, for you at least.

I will not unwrap your trappings:

A forced laugh, a word said but not meant.

There will not be butterflies inside of this.

What we have here is as faded

As our summer tans. 

I will retreat from you quickly now.

I will run, as you crash towards me

Like sunlight turning the corner on a shadow.

I will not have the patience to unravel you.

I must say, "I'm sorry," my time is short,

Like this goodbye.

July 16, 2008

What a circus it's been...

(between lunch dates and drunken messes) I saw

that I was not ready for anyone like you.

Not because I sometimes miss her,

though sometimes I do.

Because casual things end,

they end badly, or they begin again,

a whole lot less casual.

And not even casual is what I'm after.

I'm looking for hello, goodbye.

Polite, but not nice.

Where I wouldn't think twice about

go fuck yourself. 

I'm looking for not much at all.

And, although, anything is better than before.

Right now, it would be hard to be

much better than her.

May 10, 2008

at the end of this rope

I found an answer

hung all my hopes on you

what remains from Friday afternoons

what broke wide open

but when it came time

for you to step up, stand beside me

you went missing

when I needed you, you dissapeared

I need you now, where are you?

so much for golden hair,

no golden promises remain

now things have changed

April 3, 2008

I hang my shirt, a matching tie

From the lamp beside my bedroom door.

A routine I've carried out

So many times before. But now

You aren't waiting in my bed.

No, "can you get me water?"

"Those pants are wrinkled."

"Don't wake me up in the morning."

Just a few more small routines:

Check the e-mail, charge the phone

--in case you come calling, in part.

And tonight

There will be no bedtime pleasure.

No one, last, tired "love you"

Before your eyes close.

Before you steal my pillows.

And this is nothing like it was before.

Before we knew there was no happy ending.

Back then we had green drinks

And love seemed magical, like vodoo

And you'd make everything OK

Without effort, it was easy for you

To make me smile. For a while it was this

and then it went, went running away.

Poem Blog

I thought I'd post some of my poems in here in a blog sort of format. I always read through them every couple months to get some perspective, so thought this would be a good place to put them out there...