Monthly Archives: August 2013

Impossible Things to Say

I love being drunk,

it makes the voices accessible in conversation

while other people get to be happy

when all I ever do anymore is complain.

I think things will always get twisted in my mind,

reshaped like a substance

that can be molded into some perfect figure,

something left to collect only dust

until it breaks,

or chips away.

Being Punched in the Face

I’ve known the look of blood in my eyes,

it’s a sign of my own self worth

while I test this thing they call grit (that I don’t think even exists).

The way I see it

there will always be insecurities,

that flow of self-consciousness that leaks like sweat

as empty music repeats itself through different voices

and that last lingering feeling

keeps me awake, waiting for more.

Almost Made It

Almost Made It

Trying something a little more comedic. It went over well on stage so I thought I’d share it here.

The Bond Between

He cried so close to me

that it felt like he was in my arms,

it felt like I was hearing every breath,

every pause to breathe between every word

and the funny thing was this…

I have never been able to remember his name.

When I Can See The Fingerprints

I’m a jealous type of guy,

not as crazy as most, but it’s still there

lingering within me like a flint, or catalyst,

just waiting to explode.


I hear you saved one for me,

the last one left

when everyone came asking as politely as they could.

Every time we talk

you give me more reasons to love you,

but all I have for you is this shell,

this beaten down body

I’m always left out there in the open,

out waiting for the crashes and smashes

and interruptions that come so often with conversation.

Something other than plastic plants

I can remember the other day when the light came on,

it shined out into a fury in the air

and split like the branches held razors.

All I could do was stare into anything that could be seen,

but nothing would help hide me, only show me

all the things I could never respond to,

like the fun names that people call me when I’m looking,

looking them in they eye and waiting for a laugh.

These are my quiet prayers,

the moments I keep silent,

like keeping to myself

when the birds sing

and everything else

seems too beautiful to fully remember.


We all share these looks,

the ones that compulsively expand from our eyes.

I keep telling myself

“This was never supposed to be my life”

this was only meant to be temporary.


I tried telling her I loved her,

but all that came out were my reasons to leave.

Owed Liquor

There’s a roar coming from my bar tab,

it screams through the eyes of whoever’s working behind the bottles

and if I don’t pay up soon

I’ll be tossed out on the street.

Left out in the rain

where all the glasses are empty

and the harsh reality of being broke

can always catch you

when you’re out in the sidewalk.