it made more sense as a novel

i had a few minutes before the service. i walked in her shadow and, if it wasn’t for her silhouette, into the sun. her scent lingered the few feet i followed behind and masked the harshest stench the city had to offer – regret.

she stopped suddenly just short of the oratory and stood stone-like as if the ghost of the day’s honoree appeared violently. she whispered,

i want to be alone.

you won’t make it alone, i murmured, somewhat hoping she would be too preoccupied with her own grief to hear me. she did.

i just want this to end, but i don’t want to hurt you.

she stood silently, waiting, and if it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of her shoulders, i’d have questioned if she were even breathing. then, as if just realizing she wasn't alone, she turned and said,

i’m going to say goodbye. if you’re here when i’m done, we will return together. if not, well,

she looked at my lips and i caught myself mumbling incoherently – presumably words of encouragement, doubt, adoration, or repose – before her gaze wandered upward and rested in mine and continued,

i’d understand.

she was giving me the decision to make. it was light on my shoulders, but heavy on my heart. and i waited.

and waited.

and then…

maybe later

street lights flicker
burn the wicker man quicker
show her what a dick's for
not for loving, but for overcoming
the odds are in your favor
maybe later
you and i could savor
the events the day could
bring us, even sing us
a lullaby, shut your eyes
choose your disguise (wise)
the prize is never what it seems
until you realize the seams
are meant to be torn, born
of what may be

me, myself, on rye

i've found myself again. here's a beginner's guide:

my band: antinovella

my beats: deezign

my thoughts: twitter

my eyes: twitpic

my ears: last.fm

my smile: vimeo

my heart: tumblr

a metaphor for love or something

beneath the cradled bodies
over twilight skies
never has there been a purity
not like you and i

in the dawn it waits
ever vying for our faith
bereft of light, it takes
our every breath away

now that the day's begun
never ever forget
i'll always be here for you
even if our sun has set

future rhyme

if it's all about the summer, but
not about the weather, then i
hate to be a bummer, but
this summer's gon' be wetter than a
nevermind the rain
i'm talking tears from the vein
from the arms of the vain
pain made obsolete by shame
i'm talking planes, dames, and trains
ride one, pay one, blow up the other
but which is up to you, my brother
a choice made from the gutter
this storm's coming in quick
about to flood where you lay
float with the paper boats, the sick
the hungry til you reach the bay
the streets are wet, wheels to the left
steer through the set, swerving til you let
go til I say stop, this is not your father's pop
it's a whole new vehicle
i bet you lost control 22 years ago
basically you never had it

i wrote the book, you only read it for the pictures
i wrote the hook, you only listen cuz your girl does
i made you look and all you saw was white ass
ahead of the game from hollywood to lind ave

these cigarettes kill my lungs
as these bitter sets kill my fun
second to none, i find solace in the broken,
the innocent, the young
these eyes hold the world
like steinbeck's pearl
shiny, new and raw,
but also beautifully flawed
i fell in love with the music
of my darkest hour
the beauty in the madness,
the corruption of power
hungry coyote complex
bake sale mentality
conversations for carnivores
on fasting from reality
first the hare's winning
then he takes a nap
wakes and sees he lost
then has himself a tortoise snack
cracker jack prize fighter
sucker for the sucker punch
line drawn in the dirt
so he never gets hurt

what the wave said to the shore

this sunset looks dismal
i should probably chase the dawn
and greet her with a wistful yawn
sleeping sounds unpleasant
ear to the ground lessens your chances of ambushed glances
from passersby dances
let me ask this:
how many times will the river bend before you're washed ashore?
icicles make grave diggers when the water takes your legs
hurry now the shallowness is sinking your days
may day parades and macabres are better watched from the stage
all saints had to die and all sinners search the sky
it's nothing if not a waste
i've been here before;
this path,
this door,
this place is no more
but the remanence of a shore

i ramble pt. 1

cruise slow through the streets to soothe my racing head drones
live in stereo, the mono creepin' in the head phones
droning on so as not to zone out
hand to mouth to stifle shouts or win the bout
all hail the victims of the inner city's clout
i bet you're nothing more than a quote out of context
stay vexed; for every sick puppy there's a vet
who noticed the paint job?
red was never really your color,
but it's more of a pink when the colors run together
stay under covers undercover of nightfall:
you call it mercy, i call it obsolete;
you say i'm worthy, i say you're just in heat;
you play the victim, i'll play my self-defeat...
'til we tally up the baddies and find the numbers left us weak
fuck a new leaf, i'm turning over forests to make my looseleaf
to hold my words when my teeth fail to hold truths
pick a suit: hearts for the lonely,
spades for the dead,
clubs for the bullies,
and diamonds get you into bed
now where did i put my glass?
alas, on the brink of insanity lingers drink
thinking of weather changes and open ranges
only distorts the matter
mad hatter comes to mind
that rabbit chasing time
all lickety splickety splat
splatter dapper draped in white
take flight on fancy feets
footwork lost in a game of double dutch
just trying not to trip isn't much of a fancy feat
survival of the fittest fit nestled in the tiniest of places
between over zealous and forlorn faces
much to do, not much to be seen
i believe i'll take my coffee black
as well as my lung stained nicotine

you love the way i say you're vain
i see that look on your face
no disgrace, just displace the hate and
make up your mind
it's cold the way you stare or is it
just too hard to bare me
being on your mind
take a second, watch the
time pass you by
maybe later on
down the road you took so long
to walk instead of run you'll
fin-a-lly find
a better way to lose
yourself inside your attitudes
when latitudes and longitudes are
lost on the grind
it's okay to say
you like yourself
it's all the same
to lose or never play the game
but play not in mine

this is, too

this is hope
this is change
this is indifference
this is a challenge
this is hard
this is awkward
this is old
this is moving
this is stagnate
this is growing
this is shade
this is glare
this is writing
this is reading
this is knowing
this is getting it
this is travel
this is spontaneity
this is direction
this is gusto
this is not a sequel
this is not a fairytale
this is not a poem
this is NOT real

this is.

just is.

this is

this is slow motion
this is ecstasy
this is believing
this is truth
this is amazing
this is real
this is beauty
this is reality
this is fate
this is life
this is right
this is crazy
this is being
this is sharp
this is just
this is cute
this is awesome
this is it
this is beginning
this is end
this is all
this is intuition
this is how
this is why
this is mountains
this is rain
this is wind
this is trees
this is cheese
this is you
this is me
this is us

this is love.

sotto la stessa luna

and if the sun had come up just fifteen minutes early, they would have missed it.
but as it rose, there they stood, rising with it, so to speak.
their chests sighing almost in unison and their eyes on the horizon.
as they felt the first rays of a new day's sun fall across their faces,
they turned towards each other and felt a warmth no dawn could replicate.
a heat, a fire, a passionate dawn of their own.

and they stood.
and looked.
and were as the sun was.

new.

crazy

it's crazy how it's not that hard
it's crazy how it's not that far
to walk across a country just to fall into your arms
it's crazy that it happened like this
it's crazy how everything is irrelevant
except the words on your lips
but is it that crazy to wanna give you the moon
and would it be crazy if i wanted until june
and is it that crazy that i would wait ten years and not a minute too soon
but if it really came down to whether you're happy or not
or whether or not you had to break out of your comfort spot
it's really not that crazy when you really look at what we got
and can have.

in homage or mockery

clawing at the seams of everything you deemed as perfect
discrediting the scene you loved for what was on the surface
you have to ask yourself honestly, was it really worth it,
to have all you ever wanted just to throw it to the servants?
so how am i to understand exactly what went wrong here,
when vox of old depress the cold and write a whole new song, dear
to sing, if not in homage then in mock of what once was
a killing moon may kill at noon, but dares not kill my buzz
i guarantee that in the trees lie secrets of the wind
the falling leaves may once have breathed, but will not breathe again
if changing tides in time decide the strength with which it blows,
then to change directions you need only change what you now know

shadow self

life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more: it is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.

enter a messenger

thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

- macbeth, act v, scene v