second guessed smile

picture this:

sitting all by herself
on the arm of a couch
is the girl that could very well
remove any doubt that i have
about letting myself drown.

but just as i approach
her gaze catches mine
and then smiles past my shoulder
to whoever she was looking for
now brushing past me
as i sta in disbelief
when i hear him say,
"nice to meet you. i'm trey."

that could've been me
now sharing hopes and dreams
if only i hadn't second guessed
a smile meant for me.

heed this

advice to the leaders from the led:
scream whatever was left unsaid.
wouldn't you rather see us dead?

advice to the hungry from the fed:
silence the voice in your head.
wouldn't you rather eat instead?

advice to the bleeding from the bled:
show 'em so they will understand.
wouldn't you rather know love instead?

advice to the dying from the dead:
make your last days worth every breath.
wouldn't you rather live instead?

thoughts in three parts

at home he's wishing he wasn't. eating left over take-n-bake pizza microwaved on high for thirty-one seconds, he's wishing he had someone there to ask if they wanted the last piece, which he fully intends on consuming, but would like the option of being polite. and after he's brushed his teeth, stripped, and crawled into bed to watch bowflex infomercials - only until girls gone wild comes on - before he drifts off to sleep alone, he's wishing he wasn't. alone.

she doesn't use words so as not to give herself away. when he left, she died, and they say you only die once, so she doesn't want to see what happens the second time. so now she keeps her distance, with her chest pressed against his. her head's a million miles away as she bites his lip. and everything that was perfect will never be again.

what happens next is a question to remain unanswered. love versus loss is a battle that will never be won. at the time of tragedy all life stands still, but once you move on you will soon conquer that which scares you most. and when that fear is love, you will be free to fall again. and this time i swear i won't drop you.

[a work still in progess]

a few years ago - three, maybe four - i was working as a fast food service operator for a major fast food chain. i was in my last year of college finishing up a degree in a field i had no interest in persuing. i mean, i can't even balance my check book let alone manage a bank. anyway, about a year and a half ago i get a phone call. it's my mother. she's frantic.
"it's walter." she's sobbing.
walter...
"honey, uncle walter,"
i have an uncle walter?
"steven, seriously,"
i'm being serious.
"steven,"
i couldn't be more serious. so uncle walter, is he dead, getting married, what?
"yes, honey, he's passed away, but if you're gonna be this way,"
what way am i being? i'm sorry, it's very sad. death is horrible. i didn't know him, did i?
"you might've met him once. he thought you his favorite, though. you shared a birthday."
awesome. so do i have to go to some thing?
"i'd like it if you made it to the wake. they're reading his will directly after and who knows, he might've left you something."
i already own enough harmonicas and mason jars of foreign currency , but i'll go. no worries. when is it?

so i go to the wake and kick myself for having thoughts about my cousins - second and third cousins, mind you - and i sit through the reading of the will. his wife, apparently, had passed a few years back so everything was pretty much up for grabs. aunt gina got the house since she has the most kids - she's mormon. mom got the thunderbird she first learned to drive in. uncle allen got his mercury - the one that looks like a futuristic hearse. most of the cousins got savings bonds except the oldest, mike, who got his whole stock portfolio.
and then my name is called, and when it comes time to say "harmonica collection" or "priceless coins" or even "an original tandam bicycle," his lawyer hesitates and says:
"i leave to you my legacy; the first international bank of new orleans."
member fdic.
seriously? and everyone is looking at me, some still teary-eyed, and all i can get out is a high-pitched, seriously? my mouth agape and my look of general disbelief must've prompted my mother's "steven, have some respect. say thank you." i could've, but somehow i knew it would've been inappropriate. but seriously?
so, whatever sign i was getting telling me that my schooling would not have been in vain, i ignored it and after an appropriate mourning period - i think, about three days - i sold uncle walter's legacy to a retired broker from new york - a wedding gift for his grandson, he said. it makes me think i should get married...
but seriously.

once again

once again i'm left for dead
once again these bitter years are dying
once again i ask of you
to make ammends with all your sins and mine

when will we learn to love each-
other as we love ourselves
when will we learn to put each-
other before our selfish selves

'cause i know
that this will not last
but when will it end
is the question that we all must ask

once again i'm all alone
once again these bitter tears are mine

when will we learn to love our
life just as we love ourseleves
when will we learn to put our
hatred before nothing else

'cause i know
that this will soon pass
and when it falls
will you regret the life you led
or the people you loved

but once again i'm left for dead
once again my hope for us is dying

dear love

hey, it's me. it's been a while. i don't want to keep you from doing whatever you were doing. just thought i'd check up with you and let you know that, yes, i still think about you. actually i have this theory that every guy you've ever met must fall in love with you and that they remain in love with you to this day. i know i am and i can't imagine anyone else feeling any differently. well, have a great day and whatever you do, don't let anyone make you compromise all the wonderful things that made me fall for you. you're amazing.

[a work in progress]

i'm making faces in the bathroom mirror when she walks in. her face appears next to mine and for a second we stand there. silent. i'm caught.
"i woke up and you weren't there," her reflection is telling me, "i was worried you'd left."
sucked in cheeks with puckered lips: the fish.
the truth is she snores. and when she's not snoring she's hogging the sheets and kicking at my legs. i'd tell her this, but the truth is i haven't been getting laid lately and this is the only sure thing i have right now. the truth is i'm desperate.
i tell her i just had to take a leak. smooth.
pursed lips and puffed cheeks, ears folded forward: the monkey.
she shuffles up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. her reflection - now just a floating head above my right shoulder - is saying, "when are you expected home?" it's saying, "won't she get worried?"
my mom. i'm twenty-three, live at home, and if i'm late and don't call she assumes i've been raped and left for dead. her confidence in my competency has always lacked a certain...something.
for a variation on the monkey, add crossed eyes and flared nostrils.
i tell her, she's away for the weekend, feeling the freedom of a sixteen-year-old having been left parentless for the first time since hitting puberty.
my reflection turns to hers and i'm an inch from her face saying, but if you want me to leave -
"no, stay." she's quick to oppose my departure while at the same time pulling my hips to hers and half pressing, half grinding against my growing hard-on.
desperation is a two-way road.
the truth is at this point staying would be more depressing than turning down a sure thing. i give a half knowing smile as i slip past her post-coital body, grab my coat off the floor, my cigarettes off the nightstand, and before leaving the room i turn to say, call me.

infatuation

it's an infatuation, i know
but this life moves too slow
and when i'm with her
even the shadows glow

i nudge, she doesn't budge
i shove, she takes off the gloves
i pull back and she follows
so this is what it's like to fall in love

everything

say everything and
anything to make me
realize that this will
all fade away

how do you make me
realize that
over the rainbow is just a
catchy way to explain
how it feels to be in your arms

every second
literally every second and every
laugh and every song...
everything makes me think of you

for now
i sing songs and
songs sing to me
hear lyrics out of place

everywhere you go, a
reason for me to be there, too.

shallow girls make shallow graves

take a look in a book you haven't read
say whatever you haven't said yet
and make a bet with your past
to outlast
the last guy to do what you're doin'
and i gaurantee you're a shoe-in to fail
so take your shovel and pail
and dig yourself a shallow grave
to lay in until the day
when all you're nightmares fade away
of failing and impaling yourself on the stake
when all you're really scared of is making fucking mistakes
and you're to be afraid
i don't know how many ways to say
that you're gonna die alone
left to rot into bones
in that shallow grave you made

before

shoot the birds out the sky
and watch 'em fall to our feet
why do you insist on shooting down
everyone that you meet

but these days i'm a fog
and you're a thunderstorm
riding on the same breeze
you and me, we are

i float through these days in a haze
as you hover ominously,
threatening to drown me in my valleys
and wash me out of my hills

instead i see this tragedy
as a way to become what we
were too scared to see
before

pointless

it's pointless to say i'm sorry
when i've cause you so much pain
it's pointless to say i'm quitting
with the needle still in my vein

it's pointless to say i miss you
when you keep pushing me away
it's pointless to say that
i think about you every day

it's pointless to say i'm here
and will always be
it's pointless to say i love you
when in love we'll always be

nope

i'm sitting on this curb
wondering how absurd
calling you would seem after this long
i'm not trying to be mean
but i guess that's how i seem sometimes
i must be out of my mind
to think that time stood by
and watched this train wreck
with a rubber neck
what the fuck's left
but lost bets
and failed tests
anymore these days...