20
seems like the end of the line
to me.
Car crashes, bad habits, white rabbits
will reduce me down to just a spec of debris
chillin' in a petri
                               magnified
                           by                   a giant
                        eye        st           aring
                             wi                 th
                                   disdain.
"Helicopter pilot? Yeah right"
hit me like the last thing through a bug's mind
when it splats.
                           Its own ***.
Switched my postion from
                                                s
              ­                                  t
                             ­                   r
                                                a
              ­                                  i
                             ­                   g
                                            ­    h
                                                t
A student

                                 p
to drop out flying u
Eyes down. Laying          to keep on track
                                  low
blinded, cataract, stepped out in traffic
                       splat
like that bug again
or maybe more like promotion
Brand New Adventure
                                                I've seen the way the world
                                                turns
     ­                                                      I don't want any p a r t

My hands have scars now
darkened splotches etched
in skin, flush against my eyes.
I got them but I don't know how,
because pain no longer sends
signals up my spinal chord.
My shoulder is tight from a
near death moped crash
not long past, but faded
like the lines on my thighs
or the blue of my eyes.
The only things left that are bright
and fresh are the
scars on my hands.

How could such a small,
inconsequential powder
generate such a gravitational pull.
Strong enough to rip me from
my seat, to my feet, to the kitchen sink
then right down the drain.


Take a a step back,
let myself think, I just have to shake
my head side to side or utter
"No"
But somehow that is oh so
so
so
so
so

                          hard.

Sorry that I found out
the price of freedom
is always leaving first.

Numb nostrils,
jittery tongues,
swarming the cutting board.
Sharks, whose blood lust
shot off the charts
with the sight of one little baggie,
gnash their teeth
"Pour it out! Line it up!"
"Here's yours!"
"I can't feel my teeth!"
all caught on the reef
thrashing for another dose.
Who am I to judge with this
white gold
in my nose.

Consistant honesty,
something I lacked
when I was a younger me.
But now I find it hard
to bite my tongue,
so eager to roll out
a frank wound or
two.
Or blow out a cloud of,
"I don't agree."
I have to stand up for me.
If that nonstop candor
is really what you
crave,
then come back and
let me drool out
consistant honesty.

I try to sympathize
with all my friends.
When they need help
I try to meet those ends,
but I forgot about myself
until now.

If you want me,
come and find me.
I'll be at the beach with my bare feet,
sippin' my favorite brew
with a smile aching on
my cheeks.

If the seed
was replanted in
the wrinkles
of these aged brains
would it grow into
a garden?

Long lasting
love
is not about belonging
to one another,
but finding someone
you appreciate
and having them appreciate
you back.

She said I
                 "Just look happier."
She was right.

Another tomato
             splats to the
floor,
but I'm getting paid.

Lately I just
               sit
               in    silence

psilocybin
                 made me a better student,
                 son, brother, friend,
                          person.
So why would it
             make me a disgrace
                       to my
parents?

She's got hands like home
that open doors
when I'm alone.
Her arms are walls
that hold me close
with memories, sweetness
and all of the most
wonderful things
she has shown.
I swear I was homeless
till her hands like home.

through the h a z e  
o f  t h e
s m o k e
                I could see
                your face
more clearly
than I had
                   since...
you died

I can feel them
                        in my
                           s
                           p
                           i
                           n
                           e

Lately I haven't been saying much
chillin' in the corner, that kid with
those eyes, high as ****.
My mind's been working on some
next level ****
about the dimensions of luck
but look,
It doesn't even matter
because in the morning my notes
make less sense than this
mad scratch of an excuse
I call a
poem.

The trees don't transform
like they used to.
Hills don't morph into
dragons.
These empty boxes
no longer soar through
the clouds

The trees are just trees
the hills, hills
the box, a box
if this is growing up
let me
          stay a kid
                          forever

I crave
            simplicity.

I've done this before
the      d       i         s            t           a          n          c               e

game.

Must be something
special cause I swore
I'd never futs with
that again.

But here I am
marking days off my
calender     X     X     X
X     X      X

My mother once told me
                        "Never run from your problems!"
but here I am
escaped to a smaller town
and it seems all
my problems
have left me alone.

Nickels and dimes
              are not enough
                      for this
heart

I haven't been this relaxed
In longer
                than
                         I
                           can
r e m e m b e r

Splitting a boxed wine
right down the center
staining cotton shirts
sentences ending in hiccups
blood boiling from
growing up

When I set sail for times of old
I see a vision, my friend set in stone
his spirit free to roam on the wind
as my days are past I'll see you again

My eyes are raised up to the sky
A final farewell for you who have died
I'll raise the flag, hoist it with pride
if only to honor my brother whose died

When we're so lost in this whirlwind of pain
I feel you still, our tears fall like rain
Hold your head high, even when crippled and lame
This world without you is never the same

Garrison muddles in pharmaceuticals
dreaming health for long dead
friends
But he snorts away his hopes
following those white lines
down the coast

Tony jumps at riches
wants to support his poor parents
thinking money buys life
But he finds himself in ditches
after fun times that turn
into long nights

Ashley lost a father
younger than anyone should
wishing to bring back memories
But she drowns them away
in a sweet mixed drink
trying hard not to repeat

Will broke his hand
over the love of his life
so he pays for lunch in dimes
But he lives in a smoke
a slight smile of unknowing
despite being flat broke

And I...well I...
don't know who I am
I dabble in love, life, and sadness
But I always run out of time
so I got me a watch to keep track
but I forget to check it
because I want to rewind

I am John at the bar

Through years spent
sharing a bedroom
And playing in the same streets
Gnawing on the same meals
with childish teeth
I don't think you really
know how much it all
means

Now weeks pass
I'm in class, you work
but I spend many nights
wondering if you hurt
or wonder if I've grown
since the days in that home

We have different tastes
different hungers
but I mean it when I say
I love you and I'm grateful to
call you
Brother

They babble of shine
long lifed friendship
sharing shakes and
fries
But one mention of tires
and the babble
dries up and
dies

This liquor tastes like
a loaded gun
Each sip propelling bullets
through memories of someone,
I can't remember who
so I guess it's working  
as my brain tilts this room

This smoke feels like
the gentle embrace
of my mother,
before she divorced my father
Now she doesn't even bother
getting out of bed

I'm sick and tired
of pulling the trigger
on every ****** beer
trying to steer this
body clear so my mind
can keep on thinking itself
to death

These days it feels like
I'm ghosting
Going from place to place
never in one spot, posting
I'm staying close to
the coast
cause the ocean's the
only place I call home
Forgot about the one
I grew up in
by taking smoke to my
dome
Now instead I feel like an
alien
abandoned by his planet
and sent out to roam
But when in Rome I
don't even wear the Roman clothes
and God knows I don't
think the way they do
I used to have a
group
but now I'm my
own crew
And everyone's got each
other's back right?
Naw, I got my own dude.
tell me I'll pull through
and I'll show you why you're
wrong
There's nothing keeping
me here
by the end of this song
I could be gone
Dust in the wind
with one pill or
one cut
Cause my brain's tired
from thinking too
much
and not getting a
single answer
this thought that it's
not worth it is
spreading like cancer
but I think it's
pretty like a dancer
at my funeral there
to dance me away
while I go
you know?
It wouldn't be too bad
to be a
ghost