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.