What I'd rather do…

Paint all day

Write late at night

Move to the beach

Or the mountains

Have an unsteady job

Travel

Travel

Travel

Eat sushi

Forget education

From the school system

And read every sort of book

Learn French

Let my hair grow

Back to its natural color

Only wear lipstick

And nothing else

And start loving my life

Exactly how it is now.

I could see you on that bench
In the cold
After the rain
A note book, your music
Some smokes if you did.
Hair long, face unshaved
Soul tortured by something unnamed

You see me how I want to be seen
You see me for who I want to be

I can see you
In that chair
Face contemplative
Compassion unhidden behind those eyes
You count the sparrows in the sky
And I wait expectantly
For that smile

You take me from my greatest fears
You save me from myself

I saw you
When you would first ignite my soul
Unafraid of vulnerability
I learned who I am
By holding your hand
While you traced the lines
That would tell our lives

Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful soul
Tilting your head to laugh at your shoes

When you hold me
I’m no longer dead
As we play tag,
Without the running away
And killing restlessness
Is the best decision made
If it brings me close to you

Everyone just wants to be seen.
I see you, always you

dancing
she's the ballerina
she played when she was five
spinning
down the silver pole
sand would get into her eyes
lipstick
red, like mother wore
now heels fit without kleenex
fingers
graze along her thigh
rents covered till month next.

...how often do I simply try to get by..
And when was the last time I appreciated the pain
Or his laugh
Is life really composed from magazines
God, lets not be silly
I take and I take
I’m the sort
Who hates myself
When I pass too many red leaves
Without picking one up
I’m not scared
To trip on shoe laces
I just don’t want them to get dirty
And the breath on the cold glass
Made me twist inside
My lips still remain
Pressed invisibly in that shade
I’d chew on my smile
For the sake of saving a pen
And I wish I’d smell more flowers
And try to laugh a little harder
And be unafraid to be myself.

Unlike the imagined
Forever indefinable
At least for me.

Life is
The emotion that rises in me
When yellowed leaves
Race toward the ground.

Life is
The child jumping up and down
While parents laugh
In symphonies.

Life is
That backlit ally
With Lovers against walls
Next to garbage cans

Life is
Waiting for the car to strike
And begging God
You’re forgiven

Life is
A million dollars
From the biology degree
And a company of shrimp

Life is
The cut along my finger
That pounds through my body
When squeezed with lime

Life is
The photo in the gallery
That makes me linger
For no reason other than
...The hope for explanation...

Mondays
Produce in me
The nostalgia
The Plethora
Of what I’d like to be

Mondays
The ones that smell of winter
When headlights barely are of use
And graveyards
Become homes
To more than just those bodies

Mondays
Gave way to Sundays
Or maybe it was Tuesday
But Who’s to say?

Mondays
I wish I was the kind of person that could wish for one honestly
I believe that if you can hope for a Monday, and be delightful in the fact that another week has begun...Well, perhaps that’s when you know you’ve reached serenity...or is it insanity?
Mondays
Aren’t as bad as we seem to twist them to be. Though they do make me restless, no, excuse me, that’s everyday.
Mondays
Aren’t as tough as we’ve painted them to be. I’d like to make them beautiful, despite the muddied colors.
Why do I forget.

It was in that stairway
With the familiar orange glow
It was on that street
Crossing to reach the words that defined us
It was in that bed
Lips pressed onto my neck
It was in that car
Profanity thrown
It was down the road
Hand clasping hand
It was at that table
In that restaurant
It was on that bench
When ducks learned to walk
It was under blankets
And over hills
In the lake
And at my house
Down the Avenues
Up the fire Escape
The farmers market
It was here
There, around that corner
Against the wall,
An ally way
A park at dusk
And my dreams at night.

It was you
It always has been.
It always will be.

lonely boy, lonely boy
why'd your bird fly away?
naivety filled her restless heart
and your dreams began to fade

little bird, little bird
life is better if you stay
the boy you love has seen your soul
and apart you'll both be dead

Chardonnay in red wine glasses
Head tossed back, as I keep laughing
Shopping carts in ally ways
And maybe we’ll pretend to fly.
Freedom is an empty parking lot
Lit by low lights,
In the middle of the night
And pulling off clothes while dancing
On the frozen asphalt of September
Stopped only by the brilliance of
Gripping rails to fire escapes
Pulling us closer to God

This is our getaway

We watched planes land
And hoped for lives better
Than we had already planned.
Air thick with fuel, our heads
Through that roof
Waiting for life to happen
Oblivious it pulsed in the one
Sitting next to you.

I want to be a pilot
On a lake
With a home
Made only of stone
If that at all.
Perhaps only the sand
And concern myself
With merley my wings
And the fish
Cooking for dinner
I’ll forget buildings
And the lines I might
Have drawn for them
As I wake up in this city
That’s no more than a town
Staying close to its limits
...I wouldn’t want to drown...

The broken people

Left Bibles
On benches
Let Rain
Replace Tears
That should have
Drenched them.

On a Thursday afternoon.

The top of the trail
Or was it the world?
Making broken fences
into our thrones
Smoking cheap cigars, and
Watch lights below us pulse

I smell the moment still.

joensing

"they're gone"
He tosses a can in the trash
"damn it"
She opens the cupbaords, in it
finds her poison.
Fuck a glass,
Swig from the bottle

"I'm jonesin', I'm jonesin'"
You're laughin', you're laughin
I'm crying.

I'm a human
Wrecking Ball
I'll brilliantly demolish
Everything Beautiful
Because I'm so damn unsure.

crash.

Nine-thirty
The bend on the road
Gravel, dirt, and stone.
Above the arcane moonlit pattern
Rippling across the water
We'll define its reason.
Don't tell me if you'll be there
Or if the highway leads you elsewhere
And I wont tell you either.

Vodka in a water bottle

And acting cheap like that motel

Or maybe we were finally real.

There are too many versions of brokenness

Of what we should be

In all her ecstasy

With that cigarette hanging from her finger tips

Is that your kind of beauty?

God, it is attractive

Purple skin and bleeding flesh

Still smirking at the coming effects

A journal filled with eloquence

The flame ignites her eyes

"I'll breathe it slow, the drug store on

5th and Temple is probably closed"

And damn deception is so thrilling

She'll wait on that bench,

Waiting to thrill you.

You gave me everything

If everything is bitterness

Which is what you gave to me

Fondled my heart

With careless, blistered hands.

Because love is harder to come by

Because righteousness is what you claim

And sanity is yellow lace

Wrapped around my neck

Because you couldn’t even afford a rope

For the death you’re giving me

Devotion declared

When you find the hands

Broken before you.

Skin me clean of who I was

Because it’s what you do

But hold your coat tighter

Against this ghostly wind

And ignore my voice that begs

for you just to listen

Delicately finger the paper trees

And take your scissors out

To cut me apart

Just tell me who to be

To please you

Because all I can give you is one more score

One more point on that board

That makes you feel you’ve accomplished

What God gave you to do.

Even though I am no more

Then a shell

Harboring everything you told me to hide

Because life is about appearance

And nothing, nothing more.

My childhood is buried there
In the dusty red soil

Forgotten ribs
Deep in the ground
Made for music,
But now they will never make a single sound

I practiced each night
To spell those words
That would bring me to my future
Or so they told me

I was naïve
And I was scared
So I picked the flowers
And laid them there
In words like love, and happiness
To earn a point or two for you
But the tally boards ignored
When accusations are believed

And Satan lives in all of us
But you just didn’t see
Or maybe it was care
Enough to really know what happened