I am November eleventh.
Muted. Grey. Orange and red.
Chaos reckoning the silence.
I’m just some kind of disaster.
Not waiting to happen,
But currently happening.
Traces of my manic heart
Are left in skin and bones.
I am not optimistic, goodness,
Nor an easy conversationalist.
Reserved, overwhelmed, emotional.
I’m not what they call desirable,
I have too many faults.
I use to call it passion.

Why is your brokenness so beautiful,
So enticing, alluring, inviting?
Why do I only want to fix you,
To tell you to keep on fighting?
How unfortunate, how desolate,
That my love holds no cure;
For you are the “beginning of terror,
Which we are still just able to endure”.

She’s fascinating. She’s been through things.
I was in love with her. She inspired me.
(I know this will read how you want it to read)
She is authentic, like the honey bees;
Doing what they do because it’s just the thing.
And she would always sing
Something about kissing and missing and being Free.
While drinking wine from a paper cup
Underneath The willow tree.

You are something like
Marionberries from the tree
In the back ally.
Something like black birds
Leaving black seeds
On the black streets.
The epitome of February;
Cold and always longing.

All people are as sunflowers;
Heads held down in shame.
Always chasing after light
But in our spaces still remain.

She's the last glimpse of home
When you're moving away.
She's the first breeze of autumn
and makes your perspective change.
The only Butterfly of Spring
You really want to take,
And it's brilliant to watch
As she slowly decays.

I had some kind of words to say,
But now I’m merely flowers by the freeway
Grown on fumes and grit and tar
Watching life move by, while I’m
Forever standing still.

And I am burning, like a child’s slide
Waiting in summer for someone to give me a try.
I’m the words written in black at the top
That begs naivety to learn filthy things.
And I saw you in some cherry trees;
Resembled by the color created by the breeze.
I’ve begged you, I’ve begged you, I’ve begged you please.
For sweaty bodies and tear stained cheeks
To find the faith you must have misplaced
Beneath some grocery store reciepts.

Arlington

I was four or five miles above
Three Hundrand thosand men
Covered with earth. And behind my seat
-Everything orange-my father cried.

Absurdity; that’s what to call her.
Existence; she exists by
Feasting on dead lover’s dreams.
Ironic is the pulsing
Since armless men are not my calling;
Instead I clash with steel and computer screens.





Stained coffee mugs and inexpensive name tags are what define my current life.
Moldy records, cheap mauve wine, and tears that wet my hair.
The inability to actually feel anything; or the overwhelming sensation of experiencing everything.
Equally disappointing.
Transition. Despondency. Exhausted and wondering.
I received airplanes, while you claimed California. I can’t fit them in pockets. I can’t see their flaws. I just write the future and I determine their last fall.

And it’s the moment you realize you are actually living.
It’s strangers that know you instantly,
Because they caught the slight crease in your forehead
When reading the morning news.
Its hands and scenes I wish she didn’t know.
It’s the one chorus playing on my radio
Down the highway, passing graffiti trains and long grown weeds.
It’s the smell of ginger and kisses on lips that bring back the past
That teach me to smile because of where I am.

I’m a house covered in ivy
And the roses were just petals left on the cement;
They were dying.
As Hymns found me with dust in my eyes
June became April and the sky was wet with ice.

prophetic

Clever little cleaver
Lent yourself to kill
Gave yourself a reason
To chop and dice and thrill.
Silly little marmalade
Sweet and sticky still,
Disclosed contention rather
Then admission of your guilt.

I’m refined insanity
I’m catastrophe-
I’m the latest book to read

I am squirming mercilessly
And I am pinned
To “wait patiently”

I ripped my veins out
I hurt my soul
In order to be here
Which is nowhere at all

I screamed profanities
I prayed
I BEGGED
But God didn’t answer me
It was like he was dead.

I can’t keep feeling this-
Worthless accomplishment
I gave my EVERYTHING
To be pinned and waiting.

We own this city, or at least the cemetery.
Gravestones the color of the bruise on my leg,
And there we found our names engraved.
So we lay down with arms crossed;
To practice our death and practice our loss
To practice our bodies in the art of growing moss.
And when we had risen, our souls full of holes
From the worms and the turns of the earth we endured
Vi undrade till sammans, på jakt efter hem.
^{we wondered together, looking for home.}

Lets live where there are five seasons
Instead of the two where we are.
Lets build up our houses from cardboard,
And drink our tea black from Darjeeling,
Lets ignore our hatred of all their spices,
Lets pretend we love the smell,
Lets sail away from everything
And leave distractions at the sea.

Your wrists were the limbs
From the willow tree,
Your skin the soft leaves
That encompassed me.

Your ribs were the cage,
Where the birds did sing,
Of lovely and gentle and
Dangerous things.

_{And I'm just a floating}
^{broken down scheme.}

Your trains were the large ones,
The freighters, the long ones.
They carried your nightmares
And freedom’s distortions.

They ran up your arms,
And over your chest
They followed the tracks
That seemed to work best.

Then one day they crashed,
And nothing was left
Except your scared body
And hopeless regrets.

I am certain then, that it was this,
The love song of J. Alfred Prufrock,
That brought me to this great abyss.
Or perhaps a Road Less Traveled,
But ultimately, the Bible
Since it was there that words sprang forth
The first about God and blood
Then love and pain, and chastity
That lay naked in the streets
Clutching locks of hair and dirty sheets
And angles saved from rape,
With the offering of daughters
And an ass that spoke the truth
Though death came quick to follow.
Giants, demons, witches, pigs,
Judges, battles, loves lost, death
And birds that would mean peace.
It all says something more to me.

Scribbles, that’s all that was left
On one side of a receipt,
I’ve forgotten from what address,
And that’s why he kept it,
For the scrawls I’d drawn on back

Give me a cigarette
Something to calm my nerves
Tell me a secret
Something that excites my soul

Because the planes are coming in
And I’m sure one will hit us soon
If not, at least I have my hopes
Of ending in one fantastic explosion
With you.

Oh. Damn. Boom.

Ha, ability!
I’m perfectly capable,
Save my one little failing.
It’s called anxiety
And I’m always shaking,
Physically, mentally
And everything in between.
So just let me be;
For stopping may be the end of me

I wanted confessions
And Vulnerabilities in bottles
That would be set sail,
On tears and tomorrows.

Sand made your Guns lock;
The stars would soon follow
Our imminent discourse
Of loves lost, and sorrows.

Before us great oceans
And lands full of snarls
We went without shoes
Or even our towels

We failed quite miraculous
You tripped, and I followed
And left broken our bottles
Which then cut us hollow.

“Please come down from the roof;
Clinging to the chimney has only made you filthy
Please, take off your muddy boots
I’m quite comfortable here, and I don’t need it dirtied”

Please blow smoke from your lungs
It may give this curse a purpose
Instead of leaving us with nothing.

Please, take hope in what’s unknown
Since explaining this happening
Has left me wholly empty

Please, take that road;
If it promises life forever
Because I know your box of sorrows
As well as if it was my own

I hold your tears inside my heart
I wait for joy to be known
I understand, not quite as well
But almost, that you’re scared;
Because you are my definition
Of everything that is unfair.

for my sister.

Your dimples stopped showing
And the numbers started growing.
They added to the odds
Against you being happy

One, one, two, three
And a sum grew due to Fibonacci
Except it wasn’t a shell
Or row of seeds in a flower

He made his number more,
He made it much higher
He counted the cells, he multiplied
And made evil that would take another man’s life

So your smile stopped glowing
And your world became this;
The cancer inside him,
Ate at your soul instead.