He Said That To Me

When the blues came in and held me
I knew I had lost my mind
It's true because
I was (almost religiously) taken
by my swollen arms
And thrown into a puddle of mud

A day ago
I had been obsessed
With my sad face, my drowning spirit
Had taken all my hurt and made my
Fears disappear and reappear with a clown suit -
and no clowns are welcomed here!
He said that to me.
He said I should leave!
He said I don't deserve him!

And I cried. And saw my tears disappear like magic.
And the stone melted my ice cream
I longed to scream
and I longed to touch him
Myself
Me
I long to touch myself too
Like that mud that ran down my face
I am magic he said
So disappear he said

I said
For fuckin' god sakes
GROW UP!
And he said goodbye
And that's the last time I felt pain
The last time I felt invisible
And now I'm known for my courage and known for my brains
My brain is happy
Like it was never before
And I learned to tell jokes
I learned how to say 'Goodbye'
Goodbye too.

Goodbye!

No Longer Lost In You

We are no longer tied
by invisible strings
I am no longer an item
on your wish list
and I am no longer inspired
to be your muse...

I am no longer this pretty thing
that hits you
that bites you
that loves you, like that
the way you want or wanted me
was like putting a pole in between us
And our reaching arms would almost touch
Our finger tips touched
sometimes

We are no longer tired of each other
or angry for some petty thing
or happy to eat ice cream while
watching figures move on your tv screen
We are no longer kissing in showers
Or whatever lovers do
After storms pass

How winter makes lonely people lonelier
have you forgotten because I have
I have forgotten
I am no longer inspired
or no longer wish to hold you close
I am no longer your muse

And when I see you walking by with empty hands
I no longer want to feel them or fill them up with me
because I am no longer lost in you.

No longer your muse. 

I love you Man

I surely miss you man
Like I miss the aroma of coffee
In the middle of an afternoon
And the woods too
And the strange smell coming from you
Has moved further from me
And I feel like I have to go
Like you left

And then I remember you
So beautifully set like a perfect
Dream. Waking up hurts sometimes.
It's not easy. It's not easy.
Not easy man

So when there is no trust
In time, the world feels sad
It feels sad sometimes
To even wonder about you
I hear your music, sweet melody
That sometimes in my waking moments
Lulls me to sleep, even standing here
Man, it's sad

I don't want to wake sometimes.
I want to sleep but it's not luxury
And I want luxury
The Past is sometimes weakening to the soul
I see that man
And it's sucks. It's like a vacuum
It sucks all the life out of me and maybe I would rather face the truth
The fact that I still love you should mean that it's ok to say goodbye man.

So in my prayer here i say
It's ok. You. It's ok
How unpoetic this story is
Something that started so epic
Has boiled down to a film
Without a Hollywood ending.

I love you man.

Fresh Flowers

When I woke
To a pair of hands around my heart
Squeezed me it did
With a strong grip and
I knew that if I wanted to fall
Wanted to strip its arms from my
Heart, I'd have to want it badly enough

I woke with my eyes
Covered with mud I realized
That my thoughts had covered me
My thoughts
My damned thoughts have made
mud out of me again

And I woke up again
With my toes nailed to the wall
And I became flat
Like all the paint that had lived on my walls
My fucking walls were layered
With cat hair and dirt
Layered with yester years and today
My little friend has poured wine, red wine onto me
And I've become aware of how tragic it is
To lack love and luster
To lack a vision

I woke
Like in the midnight hours in a cemetery filled with fresh flowers
(Amidst thoughtful sorrows)
And I took the pin from my pocket
And I began making hearts on the tombstone and left the stars to the sky
And I knew that if I didn't want to lie
There
If I wanted to live
I had to try
I had to do what I was meant to do
Wake up!

Waiting For The Second Hand

When there lies
Like a moon I have a face
Smiling beyond the shadows of a wake
It's like a dark friend
With fangs, with broken dreams
Without A friend, I am

And when I see your wrinkles
Showing your life, it's like
A stream
I'm sad, to see you go
Because I've grown accustomed to your leaves
Accustomed to your pillow
As you lie too, like me
With broken things

You suffocate me with the past
You took my dreams and made a quilt in which you've burned
And now you want to take it and cover me with it?

You lie, sweet in my stomach too
Like an aroma in my nose
Like an untuned song
I too lie
And why not? Why is it that I have
Sad answers to you? Or questions too.

I was lost last night
And I walked after the wake
I walked and it took me four times as long
I was raped by a pack of wolves
I did feel it deep
It didn't hurt so much
But I wanted to lie
I wanted to stay on the grass and maybe wanted you to come too
And I saw those two lovers kiss
And I felt that maybe they are liars too
Like me
Like I want to be, lying with you.

I will be alone in the desert of my thoughts
In the shadows of my eyes
I see you too
Waiting like he said
'For the second hand'
For my hand perhaps.

I Have A Friend

I continue marching past my feelings

And I have even looked through foggy windows

Thinking I’d find home

And I found leaves hanging with blood

Dripping down its frame…

And I took my finger and painted the frame

Of my face… and I smelled the scent of

Olives and then the sudden smell of

Spoiled avocadoes… and I am hungry so I

Reach toward it and I

Take it and eat some...

And I wait for the wind to blow

And I wait for the leaves to fall

So I can bury my tears away with it…

And the rain comes

and I am frustrated

Because this is my imagination

I am spoiled and spooked and lonely

And sad… I feel the darkness closer

And I do feel like I have a friend

I have a friend.

It Isn't a House.

I don't know why I wonder  

I do want to know

Is there something to be done when 

you stand there and you see the house you've built

in rubbles? 

Do I just pick up the pieces? 

Do I try to tape the edges together 

or do I just leave.

Quietly

Or do I stay till the rest of it 

falls on me... and I too become a piece 

of another piece of another piece

or do I leave before this happens again and again

Love is mysterious, sure

it is. It doesn't mean what it means

it's like a puzzled puzzle and like a story 

with missing words and a sometimes it's just a word with 

two vowels and nothing else

Love is sometimes just 

and sometimes not and sometimes pain 

and sometimes I have none

I don't know why I wonder but I do want to know

How is it that things just break 

even when they're sitting 

Sitting in some corner 

so untouched- why does it fucking break? 

Why do I have to pick up the pieces of this phantom

faceless, and cruel thing!? 

Do I just leave them there? Do I just let the dust settle 

and from the rain I see what's really left? 

What is love? Why does it have to dictate some sort of story? 

Love is Mystery. But it understands that existing takes more than 

two happy people... If I don't know what love is, I am sure I know 

what love isn't: It isn't a house.