i put a dip in
it rips into
the inside
of my lip
reverse sipping
into a red cup
i don't know what
i know nothing
muffled ruffling
in the corners
of the catacombs
of melted bones
osmosis jones
where thought calls home
an old rotary telephone
with the numbers rubbed away
i'll save the fall
and autumn walls
for another sunny day

lying in bed
dying, nothing i said
meant any thing at all

a tiny affliction presented itself
the bottle off the shelf sang
i didn't know there were thorns
on the vegetation where it hangs
a flower. for you. from me.
you kept it

i know it's not much
a touch of something
my eyes have a mind
of their own now
and only know
your captivating browns

so another weak night
on a weekend, we fight
to stay relevant but i
forgot you're heaven sent
i never meant to say this things

welcome to delusion, sir
your seat is right this way
we've been expecting you
we knew you'd be here one day

with all due respect,
your unspeakable beauty
is being overshadowed
by everything else you do

minutes i'll never get back
have been contracted to a cat
erasing the possibility of being fired
i'm constantly tired and haven't had
a good moment in months
i often reminisce on the days
before i gave away everything
that made me me for a pair
of beige boots and a high fade
memories are usually accompanied
reluctantly hand in hand with questions
why am i really here
was it worth it
will i ever get a return on this investment
i'm pretty good with numbers
but no matter which way i cut it
the answer is on the inside of a magic eight ball

your pillow cradles your face
the same way i wish i could one day
the tinted darkness holds your attention
i'm envious of the tension in the line
from it to your eyes, a tight rope
lanced across neighboring giants
i would walk across it in defiance
of truth for a chance to dance through
your retinas.

i hate the word cliche
for every letter and consonant
and vowel and sound as it's
spun around, thicker now
than it was when it first touched
my tongue and leapt to its death
the wet crescent diving board
it ****** upon despising the very breath
with that being said, i shove
aside the notion that i am above being in love

the airfield is calling
but not before i've fallen gracefully
against my will on and through the hills
of baumholder and dripped every bit
of sweat that wet the night before
we'll sit, love struck punched drunk bored
snoring in a tent while others open vents
not a dollar spent because there's
no where to spend it
yet there's a feeling of something more
a longing that didn't linger before
i hate my job

the weather is getting nicer
as we stay up later and the sun
won't set until we're done
being sober. he says goodnight
and sinks beyond the skyline
i think i can manage a couple more drinks
in my mind there's not enough
to make me forget

let me just sweat it out
better yet, push it out, let it out
with cigarettes without a doubt
i won't enjoy them as much
this time. i configured my fingers
into a figure eight but leaning
sideways figuratively speaking
now days nothing i say is not figurative

he walks watching like a hawk
for potholes he'll mark with chalk
for the next dude

if birds were trees
would they be cannibals
if i won the lottery
i'd invest in danimals
i wonder what kind of
toilet paper the pope uses
let's travel inside the mind of
a man of many excuses

i feel this solipsistic need
to make you love me

we sat in the cold
wet grass painting
the **** of my pants
the stars stared back
locked in a contest
at what point does late
turn into early?
this question resonates
too many meanings
for me to answer each one
individually
now
now
now

a defining moment
golden as it's rolled
in molten stone and
rose thorns
i'm torn apart but
can't be mad
i didn't see your horns
that's my bad

as i pace from this wall to that one
undone with this phone call
i sat, fun was gone and so were you
and you have no clue the solitude
discovered in discovering smothering
can be flattering when your mother
didn't do it enough. another media
for me to subliminally expand on
attention span drawn out and drawn on
i'm gone now a new dawn is sawing
the boards off the window

i want to build a castle
that will house all the arousing
words you throw around without
knowing where any of them are going
now you leave me no doubt
that your blouse will have found
it's own way to the ground
by the end of the night

the frustration is indescribable
i say as i attempt to describe it
when you're dissected and spilled
on a table and everything that was
once inside is now out and you
worked very hard to get that way
and nobody sees the masterpiece
in your own mind that you've created

yet you could half-hearted sneeze
and people might gather in mobs
to see the tiny piece of you that escaped
without any effort on your part

it's still going
i stopped growing
scabs and started sewing
my wounds shut
she grabs at what
she thinks is love
and when it's not
it's tossed in a ***
with every other
thing she wants to be lost
*she wants to be lost

in some sense
life is like
a run on sentence
it's countenance
one of coincidence
things just happen
and they continue to
google or yahoo
won't give to you
a solution to cling to
or conclusion to bring you
a delusion of tranquility
there's a lack of structure
and punctuality
like punctuation
conductor and dj
please pick another station

i've never been a wasteful person
and this realization makes me fear
that it would be a waste of the first beer
to not have a second
how would i sleep at night

wanna hear the secret
to having a perfect day?
don't try at all
and all will be okay

the last thing i want to be is unoriginal
shoutout to my middle school principal
a gentleman and a fortune teller
i'm so glad you made me read ol' yeller

i want you to know that
everything i've ever wrote
is rotten to the core
ok? and i want you to know
that i want you more and more each day
and each said day is even more
beautiful when he wears your face
on his chest as a name tag
and if you're scared by a big mean dog
i'll bite him
and if someone tells you that you're wrong
i'll right him
and if someone says you're not that hot
i'll fight him

leave
and never come back
for your protection
i'm a dirtbag

this world is a playground
we dance like daisies in a hurricane
and the crazies stay running in place
on the merry go round and pray
and when we sing songs
and swing the sun down
we go back to work
in our little towns
and we're all still so scared of clowns

home is a funny word
sometimes it sneaks it's way in
unheard but not any less unwanted
i don't want to confuse myself

all i have
is all you don't want
it haunts me
it taunts me
i flaunted everything
and i flaunted everything
and i flaunted all i've got
and all i got was a naked wall
and a blood clot
stating at the back of my thoughts
i think
maybe
yes i do
still have a spot reserved for you

now that this chapter is over
i should start on the next one
but.

it turns its ****** head
fading, the feelings evading
almost dead now
hiding in the shadows cast
meandering around
manifested from the past
i tried my hardest
i tried to keep them alive
and in doing so i suffocated them

sometimes i feel like that
like an extra in a movie
like i'm standing in the background
with a blurry faced stranger
making words just for
the sake of conversations
not really saying anything worth
hearing because there's no one
worth telling. there's so much *******
that is shoveled out in bulk, myself
not excluded from this club
it's impossible to know what's truly important

my eyelids seem to be obese
yet tonight, under these sheets
i'll wait for sleep to find me
i gave up looking for it a while ago

tripping on floorboards
the door tore open once more
if i could sing, i would
if we had wings, we'd soar
*let's get naked
and explore

my toes sweat inside the blanket
but far too cold on the outside
you couldn't fake it as a pirate
with the right line in your downtime
you couldn't take it

so you abandoned the ship
before they knew you were captain
then you handed me some ****
you said you got in the hamptons

i'm done. i'm finished
i can't compete with this
generation of ignorance
if you like it, put a ring on it
but if you love it, put your **** in it
what no

i don't believe in reflections
or the poisons that you're mixing
i do, however, believe that hobby
is just a fancy word for addiction

i stood with my toes dangling
flirting with the disaster that could ensue
i confided in you that i write when i'm upset
you ask if there was something I could show you
*not here, not now
let's just wait this night out
in the comfort of not knowing
who i really am

there in lies
the reason why
your eyes
have never danced in mine

you're very sensible
and i'm going crazy

sixteen sweaty sixty-something's
sitting around the sauna humming
mind numbing conversation
clever quips about the weather
whether it's just a trend
or an odd coincidence
tethered to a wheelchair
waiting to die
wondering why
amongst all these sweaty guys
not a single set of sinking eyes
not set sorely on teenage thighs
only mine, wide open and hoping
for something to **** this moment
of *******
no, phil, i don't *feel ya

i really want to believe that it was
legitimately used at some point to
solve conflicts between opposing armies
that would justify so many of my own emotional reactions

yo peep this froyo
no thanks that's a no-go
all i see is a jeep logo
in a cheap snow globe
stolen from a sleeping hobo
yo bro sooooo
you don't eat froyo?
or what.
holy ****

she seemed to feel the need
to be pretty drunk
to sleep in your bunk
she must not like you that much

i'd like to take a moment to appreciate
all the energy mother nature is exerting
to give us such a wonderful canvas
to keep the air cool yet shine sun on us
it truly is impressive
she must be exhausted

some people don't see it
the beauty that lies underneath
it's rough and beaten exterior
the art that grows like grapevines
behind walls of over-compensation
and masculinity and in some cases
but certainly not all, misled homophobia
i enjoy football because
it was one of very few shared interests
between me and my father
so reluctantly i'll admit that the fourth wall
could be built from deep seated daddy issues

home is where the heart is
that's the expression
the lesson in never forgetting
everything you've been blessed with
but memory is a funny thing
it's not always on your side
it doesn't always abide with the changing tides
sometimes it writes it's own rhymes
and flies it's kite way too close to the sky

i hear their teeth
gnashing and chomping
screaming horrid songs
deep beneath a swamp
of shattered dreams
and things i'll never be
a set of self fulfilling prophecies
keeping them at bay would be easy
if i wasn't so ******* weak