I Get It

I get it why people get dogs, write break-up songs, I get it all.

I see why we fight, regardless of who’s right- how you feel.

Don’t we just pretend to

care?

Why it was never that simple.

I get that now.

I see the daylight rise while breathing out those we’ve lost.

I get it all.

Where the coffee pursed my lips, the mirage of October waiting in the wings.

And I get why we play dress up, trick or treat, lie to ourselves, lie to our friends.

I mistook our lies for friendship.

How expendable we are.

The beginning never resembles the end.

I almost forget why I came. And I don’t feel the same.

It breaks my heart to know what we left on the table.

Why we gave it away.

I get it, I get it, I get it all now.

Fear of Falling (13th & Chestnut)

I am a sunbeam- a laser beam, the terror stream
Relentless and unborn
Ripped the cap of too many Olde E’s
Stripped the sidewalk, battle worn, re-born (again)
so I can tear myself apart
“You don’t have the guts” she said,
far too gone to start
maimed, and pulled back from the ledge
where I saw my roommates and good friends teeter on the verge, feet across the edge
foolish youth and the sad things we dread.

Me, peering from the scourge
too many memories, not so fond
(A learning process to just hold on)
Long enough to pull me apart and leave me there
crouched in the background, my idle mind
with the empty bottle, the soul to purge,
what was left to keep- what’s yours is yours, what’s yours is mine
The nearest life bleeding and new life, new breathe found
and the cold winter air.
I promised myself that would BE THE LAST TIME!

I don’t want either of you to die, plummet nine stories below.
So I’ll hold you up in mind, my memory careening, inaction;
left on the ledge, afraid to leave
equally terrified to live.

Xmas eve 20thirteen

A selfish act to want you back
or dwell on memories that don’t make sense.
One day won’t make difference to how I view
the world and go quietly into some snowy eve, break my fall
and then you leave.
Can’t help but want you back,
It’s a movie of my life I’m watching
all the reviews suck
no royalties, no trailers to come; just dumb luck
The return of disillusion- breaks and broken,
stuff we
couldn’t live without,
“happy holiday”, now go back to sleep

Doesn’t mean the same when the years slip quietly by into the night, or the light-
it’s all darkness and the sleigh bells fall away from earshot:
“jingle, jingle-cringe…”
I drift backwards from the anesthesia drip
might as well be that last shot of hard liquor that cascades across my
lips.

To all a good night,
this lonely parched winter…
life has all you need
when you let go
of what you don’t

By the Time You hear This, I will Have moved On

Deep into the splintered void- where the days of our youth were made.
Our unfamiliar waves cast shades of rain,
now depraved- with no more or less from what was saved.
Floundering under frosted skies,
fleshed into salt from tired eyes.
Peered out into the open road and then threw out everything I owned.

It’s just not easy to talk to you- to look at you, and to only think of two
once the world falls away.
What happens when you leave?

The novelty wore off, somehow we made it through the night anyway.
…and numbered days;
43..45..50.
Tears blur through these eyes- perennially on the receiving end.
Slipping past the conscious mind
the remains of a conscience friend.
This hurts you more than me… but I have stared down this mirror before.

Suppose the sheen outlasted you.
What love can do.
But it steals the night too.
The morning leaves more uprooted, coffee grounds and drool,
wiped away with only bloodshot eyes to attend to.
Enough to make a difference when I stroked my hair- brittle and falling to the floor.
How pretty I must look in my old age…

It used to be different, staring out the window somewhere around 6th period Chemistry.
What became of me?
The fantasies created aren’t guaranteed.
The phosphor mild under the fluorescence and arid smell stimulating my need to flee.

Not a dry eye in the house

.

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The Giving Up Tree

When the Giving Tree decided to take- it found out there was nothing worth having, the fate of all its past seasons and falling leaves, fell too late.

And you swore I’d get a second chance, but that was overturned 100x’s— all my apologies fake.

Just an endless negative trail of “sorry”– that word is as meaningless as “hello” when despondency leads to dead ends.

 

Hey Jon. do you remember that time we laughed until the sky appeared soft, molded by the brazen captivity of a 9-5?

We always worked until 6 or 7 anyway.

How was I supposed to know that the fleeting hours had constraints? We wouldn’t count on each other forever??

Maybe it was only me that needed you. The need to siphon and spit out exhaust. Feeding the endorphins caught in circulation; awaiting captivity. Anxious for release.

I don’t know what a gift is. I just steal from under the tree,

Regardless of what day, minus holidays and birthdays- no present will fill the void, no ego posed for stroke or accolade.

No stump awaiting me.