The Swell

Dangling toes over the edge, wondering
Who remembers?
Insignificant digits appended to a significant life
Hold your own hands
Nothing else matters but
self-belief
existing halfway between fantasy and reality

That insufferable swell
Chills dancing their way through veins and arteries
Genuine energy with childish fears
beg the question, why do we fear these things?

Is it pain? deep inside a different soul yet unknown
Songs will write themselves and only after publication
will I know what I mean

If Bovine Could Fly

Scratching at the unpainted surface of a tired melody
Half truths and full lies entertain themselves in heartfolds
Who is the dog that barks his every fleeting thought
without careful contemplation
whose insincere consideration begs for laughable condemnation?

A wipe at the face and halt. Inhaling stale air
marks mere attempts at determination and they
pretend cirrus clouds and radioactive demons are but distractions
in an opaque painting of a lackadaisical raison d'être

Yet freshwater etches a fresh scar on ravaged skin
and leaves unprinted harmonies for the homeless to pick
Wondering -
No wondering.
Reaping ideas they tried piecing into a Picasso frown that'd
theoretically turn upside down if bovine could fly and
brush off their shoulders like
inconvenient dirt
thinking we'd all laugh ensemble

But I refuse to accept dysfunctional bombs and saccharine pity
from those who think not of what they are.
Surely a mind such as mine might understand.

Unremarkable Diary

Everything that drowns the silence

Sleeps inside of me

All the moments people dream of

Creep inside of me

Put my head to the radio and speak

Louder than the voices in my head

Tumbling down cracks in the name of

A visage only I see

Who sees? Is it me?

Wonders of aging time and tearless goodbyes and angst we pretend to harbor unnecessarily

Was it just a jaded teenage dream?

Greedy for the light and

Grieving shadows through unknown tomorrows but there lies

Truth

Such truth in the eyes that look beyond what I believe to be

My version of reality

My adaptation of peace

And I wonder, oh I wonder!

Dangerous thoughts are those that aim to please the

Citizens of a granite city

And the cuts in their jackets and ties in their blouses

Crease every page of an unremarkable diary

And I taste a little bittersweet,

a little redder than most but catheters scream and lions flee and

Poetry lies by the wayside, wondering, "Who are these things?"

Only by the midnight do my thoughts run free and am I caught in a leash

Burn what things may fall please and I

Yes, I

Will renew peace.

A Traditionalist's Thoughts

The washing tides are stronger than undeveloped wills

Breaking down the step-by-step, faster than free thoughts

and furthermore songs I avoid writing, things I avoid trying,

and to wonder why water floods down on empty windowpanes

I can't complete the answer

Birds of my persuasion get wrapped up in the washer

calling me to deliver a perfectly constructed argument

and words of advice and compliments -

A reasonable person would appreciate

But I fall, flying in abysses they told me not to venture in

But wait, the canyon is shallow.

So shallow, though to drown simple sentiments into

stifled melodies saved for later, I said,

I have no words, no thoughts, only emotions

Can you comprehend that?

A completely Feeling motivation for one of "life's administrators?"

All my brushstrokes lie within lines I lay for myself

Lonely, yes, but never loose to lose constructions

my pen's dictated since twelve years past

Ink clearer than the outline of my eyes

Saving long-strung thoughts for twelve years forward - just wait.

Just wait.

Madness Crossing Sadness

Sirens and flashing rooms and writing on walls,
pulsing glee, simpler things
Ten hands tending to heights

There's always a reason to expect
Genies from ruins,
adult nightlights, and I think
We can do better than
Madness crossing sadness
Fraying at the edges and forgiving exes and
We find shelter in the arms of the forgotten

Years write themselves on blank faces and blank pages and you say,
"There's a reason."
But I prefer
A brand new way to a brand new me
See yourself
Reciting the alphabet backwards and pretend
You're okay
I can write sad songs and you can play sadfully along and pretend you know what
I'm thinking

Even I don't trace back but we
Need more than we're giving and based on our body language
We're ghosts sitting on the wall pretending
One minute is enough time
Enough to delve deeper
And make yourself into something you're not
Plays on words and
Fragments of truths you
Whisper.

"Who do you think you are?"

Foreverland

Artificial energy,
riveting into those 3AM thoughts and 5AM dreams
Who sees the deepest thoughts?
Ode to a foreverland on repeat
and I think
I can.

4th and Final

Creativity is a magnet, polarizing the practical and dreaming
Drought dried distaste for dimmer dinners
Blurred into one piece de la resistance
I change the streams of my own glory
Volition is stronger.

Believing I didn't need home
The unexplored world is but my temporary home
Which do I choose?
Indecision haunts souls that dance together in limelight
Hidden in subway tracks
Kind of shrugging into contradictions
in the night-line
in the high-line
in The End.