Wednesday, May 27, 2009

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

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

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...