Sunday, August 2, 2015

Pale Remains (2015)

Just when we thought the iris of our minds aligned
I burned a hole in your thigh and pulled the bandage tight

Sliding insides from side to side, shuffles around the night
Something in the way the candlelight dances in your eyes

I fell down the darkened stairs trying to find the door to your room
A golden knob clouded by the shadows and overshadowed by the gloom

Just when I thought it was you and I, I felt a crack run through the sky
Spilling out all of the nerves and words that I couldn’t cast aside

You kept your mouth close to mine when you looked me in the eye
And asked if I felt what you felt inside, it was all I could do to lie

Somewhere deep in this puddle of disdain, I felt the glass spill over
When I heard you call out my name in a fashion completely mundane

Breathless in a whisper, I felt you exhale all you could contain
Here I am wide wonder, from the incurably simple to the incredibly inane

I will always topple over, spread to shards and blow away
Catch me in your empty covers before I slice your fingers and forget why I stay

You remember that bad taste in the back of your mouth, darling?
Then you’re sure to commit my name to that list of bad mistakes

I’ll see myself to the door in the morning, but tonight I’m gonna stay
My back is warped from the weight of a wicked tongue, but tomorrow’s another day

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Raven's Run (2015)

Sometimes is where I lay my head, in between the thoughts of never
Letting her run her fingers through my greasy hair while I hear her breathe

Maybe it’s the rise and fall of everything all over again, in which I catch the glimpse
A mirror’s mirage of the time when I felt all my limbs die, running through the green

I put a pin through a grape soda bottle cap to commemorate being late
Through the tree line when all the rangers’ cars lined up and looked at us

We were two dead bodies just seconds away from being broadcast in streaming text
Or off fucking on a cliff overlooking some mucky, smelly river that cut the East
The grey shakes loose the images, fat fruit falling from its branches
I bite, the tang of longing locks the hinges of my jaw, I’m somehow still in awe

Something old, somewhat new, I feel the steam of the shower rise around us
My legs are fire, my chest is a drum beating steady though I’m dead in thought

Feeling the hot sting of overheated water peck against my back,
When I put my wet skin on yours, hours of being exhausted wash away and I’m ready

Ready to stay soaking for a while, dry off, and grow old for the rest of the night
A handful of balloons on strings of jokes that we’ll soon forget by the last fight

I hold on tight between the gaps in day and night, while I distort the heavy dream
A memory in truth, really, only fragments somehow collapsing under the passage of remembering

But it’s comfortable here, in the grooves of faint smells and dim echoes fading all the time
I’ll stay draped in unwashed covers, kicking my feet loose in the night, ready to run at daylight

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Old Skeleton (2014)

And like some haunting hallucination
I smell the drifting clouds of coffee in the bedroom
Floating like the ghost of every Christmas past
A phantom of your silhouette jostling around the room
Throwing all your clothes in the floor
In a mad dash to get out the door
While I turn over, aggravated, in bed
Wishing I could afford to be more dead to the world

You’re not the first spook to throw open cabinet doors
Though I’ll admit, I thought they were more secure
But I’ve found a bottle can’t keep much hidden
Besides pride and dignity, barely reclaimed by morning’s light
After I piece my head together from the night’s shatters
My throat is raw, so the talks were long
And judging by the redness around my fingernails
Those words were likely better kept unsaid

But if the way my head feels is any indication
I found my stride and let a torrent of sounds
Slur straight out of my mouth and into some unfortunate ear
Maybe it’s a sign, this time, that I’ve gone too far
After all, how many times can I count my losses
And move on, only to find something else to lose
How much more of myself is there to give away
To this phantasm addiction, just to feel a chisel against the concrete
These haunts don’t matter anymore, these ghosts are things long gone
And I, chief among them, am poorly wearing this shambling skin