Prime

Thanks for asking;
no, I'm fine.
What hurts right now
is I wasted my time.
Nothing to show,
not a nickel, not a dime,
but my blood is still pumping
and I haven't reached my prime,
just the end of a line
and I'd give it back if I could
and leave you stripped
where you stood,
choose "ignore"
and mean it like I should,
but you were always
so fucking misunderstood
and never any fucking good.
I just don't know what to do
with what's left of me.
I wish I had a clue.
I can't find myself
and everything else is askew -
anyway -
and now my thoughts are few
and you won't remember
and you're onto something new
and I'm stuck here
and I still miss you.

***********************************************

This poem is about digging a ditch and throwing all your fucking time, energy, and memories of someone in it.











"Fucking leave. And don't forget to leave your front door key and, after that, you can find your own way (find your own way) back." I Am The Avalanche Gravedigger's Argument

"You can't keep what you did not have, can't even give it back." Kevin Devine 11/17

"You're bleeding out your heart full of soul, so misunderstood, so misunderstood, so misunderstood, so misunderstood. I'd like to thank you all for nothin'. I'd like to thank you all for nothin' at all..." Wilco Misunderstood

"I've been looking for some time, in a room full of numbers, for my prime." Middle Brother Blue Eyes

"Another late night drive by you, I miss you so much. I know it's stupid, but I'm saying this to you. I mean it too." Hot Rod Circuit Supersad

Magic Wish

There's a wall
that won't come down
and chains
that leave me bound
and I hear your voice -
it's smooth and calm -
but I fear the fall,
the blast, the bomb.
When the dust settled,
this time, I want to be standing.
I want to escape
the lashing and the branding.
I want to know
in certain eyes
I can still be safe;
there is no guise.
A magic wish,
a beating heart,
but please don't say
I was wrong from the start.
Your smiles heal
innately,
but have you seen
my wrists lately?
I hide in dark corners
and underneath beds.
You'll have to come find me.
I'll need to be led.

***********************************************

This is about starting to move forward, but finding you can't, that you're frozen, that you're going to need to be pushed. It's about accepting the wreck that you are and praying others can too.

This also just seems appropriate for 11/11/11. :)


(Tara, this one's for you, girl. ;) )



"Chain...I feel the words falling a rhythm; I see the wind bearing its decision to never give in..." The Fire Theft Chain

"You got a piece of me, but it's just a little piece of me and I don't need anyone and these days I feel like I'm fading away...." Counting Crows Have You Seen Me Lately?

"You can't keep what you did not have, can't even give it back." Kevin Devine 11.17

All Over Again

You appeared in the fog
as if you'd been there all along
whispering the same old sweet-nothings,
singing the same old sad songs.
We said we'd have a drink
every now and then,
but we've missed the summer
all over again.
Now the leaves are changing
and so are the times
and I wish I had something more
than these wretched rhymes
to keep of you in my hands,
but there's nothing there.
I'd call out your name.
All I'd get is a stare.
Ice cold eyes
cut like glass
and silence speaks;
it doesn't pass.
Over, in another state,
in another time or another place,
you remember a sound;
you remember a face.
You remember how warm
you used to feel
when that emptiness in your stomach
wasn't real.

**********************************

It's about how I hope some part of you will eventually regret it.







"It's burning up in here even though the bed is cold on your side. I'd rather die then spend this night here without you." New Found Glory It's Been A Summer

"I'm wasting away. I find time to pine when pining away my time. Within sin. With no redemption. We will find our souls and the shells they're kept in. All wasted away." Glassjaw Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Silence

Bleeding Art

Some days I don't know my own name
and I wonder if you ever feel the same.
On you I will place all the blame
for a sickness you never tried to tame.
Did it tie you up, tape your mouth shut?
Push you down and punch you in the gut?
Or did it just give you a reason to cut
and run and stay in your self-made rut?
Because it came out from your heart
and it pulled me apart.
It lied to me from the very start,
but I turned it into my own bleeding art.
You are in all my colors and all my words.
You're in the fish and in the birds.
You're in all the sentences I overheard
and in ever picture my tears blurred.
So, when you look in the mirror, you should see my face.
My visage should make your heart race.
I should be embedded in that space
in the back of your mind that you just can't erase.

**************************************

This is about other people's mistakes that wind up only hurting you and all you can do is write angry poetry about it.

I'm not generally a vengeful person, but when you screw me over twice it's tough not to hate you. I'm a sucker, though, so I'll probably always be here for you when you want me. You should really just want me more.







"She don't even know my name. She won't even look my way..." Ultimate Fakebook She Don't Even Know My Name

"Oh great, here I go again I'm stuck in this rut..." (Really, this entire song. All the time.) Saves The Day Three Miles Down

"Stay hydrated from from a double shot, get my nourishment from a punch in the gut, never really felt I had the best of luck. I gotta big big mouth that just won't shut up." Middle Brother Middle Brother

"You were the moon held high. You broke black with your clean light. You're words I can't say right anytime I try." Kevin Devine 11.17

Understood

I can’t reach out
and touch you.
Then again,
I guess I never could.
I saw us once
in a room with a view,
our intentions mislead,
but not misunderstood.
If you’d just love me,
I’d swear to love you too.
I wouldn’t throw that term around.
No one ever should.
The shadows you cast
are far between and few,
but my memory is, 
to a fault, pretty good.

I see you in the moon
that shines bright overhead
and in the stars;
so I pray for rain
and I almost feel you
here in this bed,
but I know it's just
a trick of my brain.
Come find me when
you feel yourself fed
up with your choices
and your perfect pain.
Let a good one go,
know the dread,
know you lost
and there’s nothing to gain.

***************************************


The sky was totally clear Saturday night when I came home.

I'll probably regret posting this one at some point. I feel like it's really only partially developed, but I don't want to get to a point in my head where I can completely develop it, so I think I'm just going to let this one go. There's a lot going on here.

I still look up at the sky and wonder if you're seeing what I'm seeing...and wondering if you're wondering if I'm seeing what you're seeing. I need to stop it. At least the second part of that.







"My heart is gone. It drove to the shore, swam out in the night, way out past the lines. I heard that now it lives in the south of West Central Spain, drinking off the pain..." Saves The Day Daybreak

"I turned you into a conversation piece and the things you take for granted turn out to be the things that you need..." Kevin Devine Letting A Good One Go

"I’m at peace, sainted and waiting, for my perfect pain to speak for me again." Kevin Devine Awake In The Dirt

Company

You're just another boy
who ruined another girl
and if I were better
I'd also be bigger,
but I want to watch you burn
and I want to know
you'll never sleep
sound.
Bound
and gagged
by time and circumstance -
a sinister dance -
we rolled our dice;
we took our chance.
I'd still stand by your side
every day if you’d let me.
But writing your own tragedy
doesn't make you a hero
and perpetuating your own misery
doesn't mean I'll keep you company.

**************************************

It feels weird posting a poem from home.

Hope everyone had a relaxing Labor Day! Have you hugged your Union rep today?










“And I guess I could be bigger, but I'd rather make you pay...” Pedro The Lion Rehearsal

“It's hard to be the better man when you forget you're trying; it's hard to be the better man when you're still lying...” Brand New Handcuffs

“And I've known trouble all my life and I'm sick of asking why; it's like screaming at a set of dice...” Kevin Devine Trouble

“A laundry list of problems doesn't make you interesting and never getting help doesn't make you brave. Not listening to reason doesn't mean that you have faith. Your just cutting off your nose to spite your face...” Straylight Run Sympathy For The Martyr

Such Perfect Form

I haven't felt right
for a long time.
I keep thinking someday
the sun's gonna shine.
I need a grown up.
I need a man.
I need a path 
and I need a plan.
I need a blue eyed boy
to take me on a date
to a bluegrass club
in a blue-hearted state.
I need to wash away
the face I see 
when my eyes are closed.
You came like a ghost.
Raise my glass
for a toast.
I gave you the most
you could ever hope to behold.
I stuck up for a friend.
Nothing much to defend.
Story's over: that's the end.
Only I couldn't find my pen.
Oops.
I'm bleeding again.
And the drops curve
in such perfect form.
It's all that helps
to keep me warm.
The rum hits the back 
of my thorny throat
and suddenly I see words 
I didn't know I wrote.

*********************************

I was drunk when I wrote most of this. But, seriously, someone take me on a date to a bluegrass club. Do they have those in the Northeast? There's gotta be some in NYC. The bigger challenge is finding someone to take me on a date.

Womp womp.








"Haven't had a dream in a long time. See, the life I've had can make a good man bad..." The Smiths Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want

"Get back here 'cause, baby, these blue eyes are never as bright without you..." I Am The Avalanche Green Eyes

"You've become a ghost. You're floating somewhere in between the waking world and a landscape of dreams..." Saves The Day As Your Ghost Takes Flight

"I was sticking up for my friend and there's nothing much to defend. It's a lost fight. It's a lost fight..." Heatmiser Not Half Right

"The poison make its way through my body slowly into the pleasure centers of my brain..." Pedro The Lion The Poison

Morsels

We are all
so very small.
All of us,
if we should fall,
are only morsels 
underneath the stars,
underneath the nebulae,
those spinning specters in the sky.
Take solace is the rain
that brushes your cheek;
it keeps your blood running
and strengthens the weak.
Be grateful for the wind
that howls and swirls
and puts out of place the hairs
on the heads of all the girls.
It's easy to praise
the great hot sun,
but don't fret the haze
or a cloudy day.
No one was ever hurt
by a little bit of gray.
So fragile and futile
are our little lives,
we'll be taken by surprise
by the falling skies.
For if we all should fall,
we are all so very small -
so very small -
but the earth knows all.

*****************************************



We got hit by hurricane over the weekend. It did a good deal of damage all up the east coast of the US, but the death toll has been fairly low especially considering we don't get hurricanes all the way up here. It's weird shit, though. Still, it wasn't any Great Red Spot, haha. I sort of saw it as the planet giving the Northeast a good scrubbing.

Hope everyone's drying out!





"It's always the old to lead us to the war; it's always the young to fall. Now look at all we've won with the sabre and the gun. Tell me is it worth it all?" Phil Ochs I Ain't Marching Anymore

"I spread into a distant hum. I droned along with everyone. And the earth grew green and nursed herself to what she used to be, all our senseless shouting calmed to quiet in her ancient memory." Kevin Devine All Of Everything, Erased

170811

I hate you
though I said I wouldn't.
I love you,
though it does no good.
Behind my eyes,
I can still see
how you had me
fooled all along.
Along with my dreams,
you were shuffled
up
and exaggerated
and told
and retold
like a fable
like a fairy tale
in chapter and verse,
but now my tone is terse.
I wish it
in reverse.
I don't sleep
for the secrets I keep.
I can't breathe anymore.
You lied and took and tore.
You exist while I
am still sore.
I plead, but
you ignore.
And the crimson blob
found on my floor:
it's just my heart,
it's just my core.
I ripped it out,
consequence to you.
It's worthless now,
like me to you.

****************************








"Well, I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow, casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there counting crows: one for sorrow, two for joy, three for girls and four for boys, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told." Counting Crows A Murder of One

"It's not right. It's not fair. I'm still a mess and you still don't care." Fountains of Wayne Little Red Light

"I don't care so gouge my eyes. I'll spend the rest of my entire life blind. Consequence to you." Manchester Orchestra April Fool

Later’s Laments

The liquor makes your eyelids limp
like your leg when it’s asleep,
but you like the way it dulls
all the madness to a peep -
between your ears -
this talks is cheap.

Prolific when you aren’t bleeding
and fucking genius when you are
like the mark of ingenuity
is in each and every scar.
I’ll meet you underneath the sky
or find you by the bar.

But we’re parallel
and scared as hell
and I can’t think
or touch or tell.
I only know,
somewhere, we fell.

So, Later’s laments
are Today’s regrets
and you’re nestled with your paperbacks
and your homemade mix cassettes
wondering how long you’ve got
‘til you’ve paid off all your debts.

*****************************



"I caught you nesting with your analogs, glassy eyes from kissing poison frogs, becoming infinite against his couch..." Bad Books You're A Mirror I Cannot Avoid

"The rap is scattered. It hides its ingenuity. I gave it this little part to give it continuity..." Bo Burnham Bo Fo' Sho...lol.

Peace of Heart

All I want’s a little peace
in my heart and in my head.
I want the chaos to cease
with the words that I’ve said.
Close the book on this chapter,
lay the past to bed:
I just want the quiet
and the calm instead.
When my voice stops shaking
and my words have all been read
you’ll feel your own hollow;
you’ll know your own dread.
But my blood is hot
and it spills red
and my soul is hungry
to be fed
and you’ll be left behind
while I look ahead.

*******************************

2am poetry. [I spoke bad poetry.]







"Don't kill yourself to raise the dead. It never works. You'll only end up joining them." Kevin Devine You'll Only End Up Joining Them

"I sit home and drink alone and hope that bottle speaks, like you, like us, like me..." Manchester Orchestra Deer

"And I know that it's dangerous to judge, but man you've got to find the truth and when you find that truth don't budge until the truth you found begins to change...and it does, I know, I know." David Bazan People

Pinned

It's the same story
and the same signs
with the same endings
and the same bullshit lines.
I will never speak
your name again.
I thought you were softer
than you were then.
I took your photo
down today.
I said my goodbyes
in my own way.
Sick to my stomach
from the wonder and worry,
but none of it matters
inside of this fury.
Permanence is myth.
I'm always just a phase;
I'm always just an option
and no one even stays.
I'm pinned against the wall
with your hands around my neck
and I'm growing old and cold.
I am your walking wreck.

******************************







"These sour grapes when the joke goes bad, this same smirk, same bullshit laugh, the egg on my face when I can't go back. I didn't plan for that." Kevin Devine 11/17/10

"I am bottled, fizzy water and you are shaking me up. You are a fingernail, running down the chalkboard I thought I left in third grade. Now my only, consolation, is that this could not last forever even though you're singing and thinking how well you've got it made." Incubus Just A Phase

Burn

Long, late nights
and playful bites,
the cheerful smiles
over so many miles
are barely memories yet,
but I want to forget.
You ruined so many
songs for me.
Songs I used to love.
(Songs we used to love.)
They're just nails on a chalk
board anymore and I can't talk
or think or feel right,
a piercing through my temples every night.
I've done my fair share of my unfair shit.
That doesn't mean you'll get away with it.
Undeserved second chances
and false-start to stop romances:
mistakes from which one day I'll learn.
For now, I want to see you burn.

***************************************




"My baby shot me on a mountain top. I get my kicks - yeah - from the bottoms up. And all of these people saying they've had enough, well I don't think that you'd understand. I've done my fair share of my unfair shit. That doesn't mean you'll get away with this. I hid your name upon the quilt I knit; still, I don't think that you'd understand." - River City Extension Holy Cross

"There's a hole in the ceiling down through which I fell. There's a girl in a basement coming out of her shell. And there are people who will say that they knew me so well. I may not go to heaven; I hope you go to hell..." Counting Crows St. Robinson And His Cadillac Dream [I know I just used this recently, but the sentiment still stands.]

"And it's not what were owed, but it’s what we’ve earned, and it's closer than we realized that it's time now, to burn." Kevin Devine Time To Burn (Another Bag Of Bones"

Skeleton

The punch in the gut,
the swearing, the smut,
caught her mind
up in a bind.
She did it again,
forgot to lift her pen
so the clouds still hover.
And she doesn't recover
from any of it.
A battle of wit,
but she's too drained to care
how many scars are there
or how much more her liver can bear.
Connect the dots, the rips, the tears.

Shuffling on her sidewalks,
but - at every turn - she balks:
a scared skeleton, hiding
and only in her walls, confiding.
Yet she suspects the drywall
of conspiring to tell-all.
She's looking for a home
or a soul with whom to comb
the strands of life she has left.
Her youth: victim of theft.
But it's always out of reach.
There's a crack, a hole, a breach.
There's a quiver in your speech.
There's a lesson here to teach.


***************************************



It's not that I'm being prolific. This one and the one I posted yesterday are actually just poems I started a while ago that I didn't feel able to finish at the time, but now feel I can finish adequately. You tell me.

However, I may become more prolific now that some of the older ideas have been worked through a little.







"There's a hole in the ceiling down through which I fell. There's a girl in a basement coming out of her shell. And there are people who will say that they knew me so well. I may not go to heaven; I hope you go to hell..." Counting Crows St. Robinson And His Cadillac Dream

Threads

The sun that rises for you,
slouches in her skies.
She pulls her hair back
and takes a breath
to start her day,
but one just fades into the next.
The nexus between living
and operating
has dissolved into
a dew
and a few
take notice,
but the rest just turn their heads.
Frayed and tattered are her threads.
So, life goes on without you,
but its air is stagnant.
She finds her fragments
mingled with yours
in her glossy magazines
and in the fronts of her stores.
It's nothing tangible.
It's nothing she can hold.
She's just left in a corner,
in the dark, in the cold
where it's safe, but not sounds,
where she hopes not to be found.


********************************

I guess I'm starting to deal with it. But not really, haha.






"O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!"
- Hamlet (being only a little over dramatic)
Hamlet, Act I, Scene II

Smooth The Shakes

What do you do
when the summit is so far away
and the voice in your brain
has your nerves torn and frayed?
The alcohol in your veins
keeps your tone from turning gray,
but it stings your throat
and makes the words you wrote
bitter with betrayal;
the hand that holds the pen is frail.

But you wouldn't care
if you disintegrated into the air
or if the ground ate you up.
You've had just about enough.
Your love is out of reach
and passion you can't teach.
Another swig to smooth the shakes,
another cut to numb the aches.
Because: what difference does it make?
For our apathy, the earth will forsake.

*********************************************

This is about watching something slip through your fingers and deciding not to give a fuck because the world's going to shit anyway. Happy Friday the 13th.


By the way, rejected last lines to rhyme with "make" include:
"I fuckin' love Drake!"
"Everything you say to me takes me one step closer to the edge AND I'M ABOUT TO BREAK"

Just thought you'd like some insight into my creative process.









"You see, I'm feeling everything. Nothing gets by." - The Frames What Happens When The Heart Stops

"Am I correct to defend the first that holds this pen?" - Brand New Good To Know That If I Ever Need Attention All I Have To Do Is Die

"You waited your whole life, said you're lookin' hard for something. You look so hard and you never find nothin' and the chances run like sand in your hand..." - The Builders And The Butchers Find Me In The Air

"Prescribed pills to offset the shakes to offset the pills; you know you should take it a day at a time." - Panic! At The Disco Nails For Breakfast, Tacks For Snacks [LOL]

The Devil Once Knocked On Your Door

The devil once knocked on your door.
His face, you'd never seen before.
He promised you riches galore.
He told you there was so much more.

He took your hand; you pulled away.
"What more is it I have to say?"
the devil asked in grave dismay.
"Just promise me: this time she'll stay,"

you answered and the devil nodded
and the blood in your veins clotted
and your stomach, it knotted;
for, in hell, you'll be surely be poked and prodded.

But your deal is done.
You're eternity's begun;
and you don't bother to run.
You're the devil's new son.

You shut the door and turn inside;
it's there you find your blushing bride.
In vows, your hearts are mortally tied.
"'Til death do us part,' heavily on your mind.

You'll lament on how this deal never expires.
You wonder if she'll miss you when the fires
sneak in between the saints and the liars.
But you know it's worth it just to lay beside her.

****************************************

...for when you're desperate enough to try just about anything.







[Though "Reaper" appears in my acknowledgement here for mostly comical purposes, this really was a great show and it's on Netflix Instant, so you might want to check it out. RIP, "Reaper."]

"I FUCKING LOVE THE DEVIL" - Jess and/or Jackie

"When you make fire with the devil, don't be surprised if you get burned. You were among the lucky ones and he only took your hands." - The Builders And The Butchers Raise Up Your Weary Hands

"I want to make you happy but the devil's out my way, so I'll just pack up everything. Roll it out and up the devil's pay." - The Old 97's Up The Devil's Pay

Lowercase

You take solace
is the silent seconds
when the shouting
behind your eyes
ceases.
Pieces
of you on the floor
from the night before
are swept under the rug
or picked up and plopped back into place.
You're an empty space.
You're a fall from grace
and you vanished without a trace.
You're a proper noun in lowercase.
The sting's etched out
across your brow
like a beauty mark,
like a vow.
The breath in your lungs
now tastes so sweet,
when once the task
was such a feat.
But that piece of your soul
will not be missed
in exchange for the scar
along your wrist.

*****************************

This just puts together some of the lines floating around in my head. Not that this is a new topic for me or anything. You'd think after over two years, I'd be over it.








"I was hollow then 'til you filled me in. Now I'm empty again." - Rhett Miller Come Around

"To settle your debts you took a dozen steps or started on the path. Kept falling off when faced with righteousness. You couldn't work the math." - Kevin Devine Between The Concrete And Clouds

"But if they would kiss, there would be sparks...the beauty marks." - Old 97's The Beauty Marks

I'm Not Ready For This Sort Of Thing

The pot whistles as the water comes to a boil, but Anna hushes it so it won't wake Adam. She pours the piping hot liquid into a white mug (the one that has the little chip on the edge by which she once minimally injured her bottom lip). Her bare feet hardly make a sound on the linoleum as she walks across the kitchen for the tea, a spoon, and her Honey Bear honey.

For now, she sits at her kitchen table, gently stirring and carefully sipping the soothing concoction. Adam's tee shirt covers her frame to about her thigh at which point the cool wooden chair then meets the inside of her knee and gives her legs goosebumps. She couldn't remember when she knew Adam wanted her, but she'd known it fairly confidently for some time. The sex which should have surprised them both, even scared them a little, had become such an inevitability in the backs of both their minds that the normal bout of pre-coital nausea she often experiences never afflicted her.

She wonders if it could ever really be that easy. But then she remembers that it really wasn't all that easy at all. There were tears and bad words and years, days, hours, minutes, and seconds. She wonders how anyone could fall out of love, fall out of waking up feeling good and full. It seems like something one would have to work to do, though she knew that even she had experienced the phenomenon.

Adam was awake the whole time. He heard the pot whistle. He heard her little feet pitter and pat on the linoleum. He heard the spoon spinning in the little white mug. He hated waking up without Savanna even though this would have been the first time he had ever awoken to her. However, he was comforted when he realized he was in her bed; he knew she couldn't have gone far and would certainly be back. She wasn't a dream. She wasn’t running. She wasn't gone.

He climbs out of the bed and performs a quick search for his clothes, picking up only his boxers and pulling them over his hips. He surveys her room. His stomach turns a little as he considers the consequences of turning the doorknob and walking out into Anna's living room, finding her sitting at her kitchen table at the other end. Does she regret it? A deep breath and...

"Good morning," he says, opening the door. She was un-startled. His body relaxes. This isn't a stranger, he reminds himself jovially. What am I even talking about? Why would it be? It's not like I'm in the habit of sleeping with strangers!... He shakes his head to himself.

"Hey," she says, looking up from her mug, smiling as she watches him saunter through her little living room and into her even littler kitchen-slash-diningroom area. "There's hot water on the stove. I'm sorry, I don't have much, but there's tea, some milk in the fridge. If you're hungry, there's cereal...oh, and uhh, I could give your shirt back," she stumbles.

"Don't worry about it," he assures.

With his back to her, he reaches over his head to open the cabinet, pulling out a green mug and then opening up the drawer with assorted utensils in search of a spoon. She watches. She watches the muscles in his arms and back stretch and contract and she feels how those same muscles had felt in her hands just a few hours earlier. Her eyes follow his spine up to his neck and she remembers the soft spot under his ear where he likes to be licked.

"Is there sugar?" he inquires, this time startling her.

"Uhh, under the coffee maker, in that little bowl," she points.

"Is there coffee?" he jokes, picking up the little spoon sticking out of the red sugar bowl.

She laughs, "No," in a defeated tone. "Shut-up! I didn't bring you here to mock my lack of house-keeping!"

"No, the house-keeping is quite good. Everything's nice and clean; it's so clean, there's nothing in here!"

"Just for that, I'm keeping the tee shirt and you're gonna have to give me a damn good reason as to why I should give you this tea bag," she teases, holding up the very last tea bag.

"I think you’ve got me there," he sighs. "I guess the good looks and the charm can only get me so far, right?" he kisses her on the forehead.

"Hmmm, almost..."

And he kisses her cheek, the tip of her nose, her mouth, slowly, and sits down beside her.

"Alright. Fine," she concedes and hands over the lonely tea bag.

"Thank you. That'll do fine in my sugar water," he presses the tea bag against the wall of the mug and watches the color change from clear to yellow to brown.

They sit quietly, each stirring and sipping as if in so sort of choreographed performance, each wondering if the other is thinking the same thoughts.

"How did your parents meet?" Savanna finally says.

Adam pauses as if searching his memory for the cute anecdote his parents surely him at one point about their meeting, falling in love, marrying, the whole nine.

"Yanno, I'm not really sure. I just know my dad was working at the paper at the time."

"They never told you?"

"Or maybe I just never asked," he laughs. "I think he was working at the paper and she was, maybe, like, the friend of a friend of a friend of his editor or something? They had mutual acquaintances? I know he was working at the paper. Either they never told me the story or the story just isn’t very interesting and I’ve since forgotten," he stutters as his hand wanders almost involuntarily to hers, grazing the skin that covers her pinky finger.

"Do they still love each other?" she asks, still stirring her honey into her tea, trying to achieve just the right level of sweetness.

"In some way, I think," Adam answers. "They like each other at least, but, Love? I'm not sure," he explains. "Do yours?"

"No. Love, even Like...even Tolerate, dissolved a long time ago. I remember; I watched," she confesses.

"I'm sorry," he sympathizes, his hand now all but holding hers. "Maybe that's just how it is with people. We're all so indecisive. We're all so picky and needy, but never all at the same time, never harmoniously with each other, so we always spar."

"How do you avoid it, then?" she asks calmly, hiding that his comment had caused a twinge of pain in the hollow of her chest.

"Don't fall in love with anyone you'd actually want to spend the rest of your life with."


**************************************************

Do you ever think about the Library at Alexandria?














"It seems like I should say 'as long as this is love...,' but it's not all that easy so maybe I should..." - Counting Crows Anna Begins

"Because people are so fickle. They fall in love at different angles, so really I could lose you just as quickly as I've gotten you. And that's the kind of thought that makes me nervous and worried if you'll really think I'm worth it, when the rush wears off and you're left with this busted person. But if you tell me you will I will do what I can to believe it..." - Kevin Devine People Are So Fickle

"There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane, he had to fly them. If he flew them, he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to, he was sane and had to. Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle." - Joseph Heller Catch 22

Wisdom

You still hear that voice
that betrays and berates
and you question your sanity
and curse the fates.
What solace you find
in these trivial traits,
with the guise of satisfaction
they surely create.

But there's no wisdom
in masks or charades,
and no wisdom
in poisons or blades.
The shock of the feeling
reminds you in fades
like the sun and the moon
in their daily trades.

You repeat those words
like incantations
because there are miracles
in recitation,
but that magic's not in syllables;
it's in the sensations;
it's in your blood;
it's in the vibrations.


*************************************************

I can't believe how inactive I've been. It's depressing. It's mostly because work is tiring me out. It's leaving me feeling quite uninspired which means that I either need a vacation or I need a change...or both.

In any event, I started writing this poem back in December / early January. It was only four lines up until about last week. Now it feels about right. It can actually be taken, at least by my count, in two totally contradictory ways. So, have a ball.

I am also trying to honor one of my 2011 goals by writing a new vignette. I just haven't decided whether it's not or even whether it's worthy of posting, but I'd really love to post anything that isn't a poem right now!







"I know there's no wisdom in razors and I know whatever I thought I'd found was really just a mask."

"I bite my tongue every time you come around 'cause blood in my mouth beats blood on the ground." Incubus Blood On The Ground