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01:35am 26/04/2005
  "living the drunkards dream"
right?
from a bar room stool
to a fake wood table top.
the smell of cigarettes and girls scent.
on the fingertips.
june started sometime early.
and all i could dream was a black top yellow line.
the broken insects on the windsheild
a horrible song in the stereo.
once i lived.
and today
i did again.
year long
i taste your taste on my lips
and in the back of my throat
and brain.		  
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01:08am 30/11/2004
  so i glamour
and wonder why im never sober for these facts
as i bask at the parts
of this fucking bottle
scattered on this shit filled concrete floor
and i wonder what happend to the last seven years
and then it didnt even spark
until i got that note from vegas
promising that my words meant more to her
well they dont mean shit to me
i can soak up my summers
i can love those day scares
i can remember those squinted eyes
i dont need the pat on my back
its not hard to choke on those days
especially the videotape
a fucking map party
well i have arms for that
and the glass proved it
so doctor
we drove past the milwaukee pass
and i felt four years.
what do you think i should do?		  
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12:12am 14/07/2004
  sleeping in the same bed
where me and a ghost fought our last words
and danced our last stand
holds a different type of cold to it now.
and even if those walls could speak
they wouldnt have the capacity
to recall such a fleeting flight for two.
it was just 24 flashes of hot sheets
and melted ice soaking the bad carpeting.
with classic classics in the speakers.
and for one time a sunset and sunrise were felt
just a little differently.
and then it was done.
deliberatly, the ghost had won.
and i returned home again.
but hands cant stay empty forever
and even waiting hearts have their own eyes.
so now the shining lights flying over my head
have a new wish tagged to them.
between stars and satellites.
i think you know which one you are now.
the years
how they change.		  
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01:39pm 01/07/2004
  today i caught myself in the mirror.
it was in my eyes and i took a breath.
because in the back of my brain
there is a fantasy eating it away.
built up on perfect smiles and smells
and constructive clothing.
a certain purpose in casual care less.
dirty feet pale bones spotted skin visible scars
and how long have i been living for the wrong
reason.
the stories pour in from up north.
top headings that crack my mouth upward in a corner.
but im not 16 anymore.
im not 18 anymore.
and 21 was a ghost that passed through me
and left its mark on my organs.
so when i see its sign chime on,
even the most memorable hook of every reminder
cant block the ringing from my ears.
a window to scream out of
with july sun painting my eyelids shut.
and bright blue breezes collapsing my lungs.
and it was then
and on days just like this.
but those windows dont exist
anymore.		  
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04:01am 28/06/2004
  i shouldve evened my numbers when i could.
in every opprotunity.
its just not thought of hard enough.
while weeks ago,
he ran the glass across my neck.
and i think we both wished
for my windpipe
to open up.
for the waterways to empty onto my shirt
and onto the floor.
a few laughs and me choking.
the end.		  
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03:49am 20/06/2004
  every day meant
a subtle touch for soul
i felt it in my throat
when i spat out songs i hoped i had forgotten.
feelings for an ancient song.
and then mirrors hold squints for eyes.
and they rip out previous likely mistakes just like enemies.
they are...
traveling mexico for small gifts and net beds.
i remember it in my chest.
there is a few.
and what is dead could kill me finally.
oxygen cant be remembered.
just like it cant be withheld.
rumors and meteors.
nestle here for heat.
the words worked fine.
im in the wrong place at the right time.
lost but not listening.
i never knew it.		  
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03:06am 13/06/2004
  i saw the waves of an ocean of mistakes
beating against the rocks of my flesh.
i felt the breath of a fruitful word..
a complementary heart..
a single solitary comforting word.
i saw a years worth die in an instant.
and in a ride to the door it couldve cost it all.
a little too much for time
but my skin is screaming for a second chance.
this pile of hopeless molecules.
it aches for the correct answer to a problem brought on by eyes and nods.
the bottle choked the words from your neck.
just late enough for them to be said.
its not that i cant feel it.
its just that i wish i could.
a chosen stance too late.
i wish to spend the cold mornings pulling hairs from my throat,
and still ignorant of your real way.
a fistfull of scalp
just to impress a scent.
what do i do.		  
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02:21am 22/02/2004
  there are words that are just too good for this label of irony.
and as he spit it he says:
"he heard about your wedding day"
with freckles on your back as the moon traced out constelations...
and i could never forget the dimlit skylight
the sorry lit eyes.
over drinks and over board.
there is a day that is ever changing
and im stapled to the forever feeling
that every passing time that was formally claimed.
is just another open season.
for loss.
or for finding the truest heart.
or for finally being strong.
its just another phrase in a playbook.
everything comes to pass and i missed the start.
it just turns out to be
another instant as a constant metaphor.
once, i believed.
that summer made me love everything.		  
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02:16am 17/12/2003
  at a loss in the eyes like a maze.
breaking my own legs at the knee is not a means of escape.
constructed perfection by perfect hands.
guided to these tired arms.
this is the proof.
this is the inspiration.
to cut open my throat and remove this blockade.
as the fears of this world fade.
into meaningless definition.
i feel this fire speak for me.
revealing the exact matches of the embrace.
and i could drown in this forever.
this awe inspiring existance.
helplessly falling to the floor.
with hands to the air and grateful.
in honor of your name.
because, our hearts dont beat as one just by chance. so this, my proposition.
to love for a lifetime.
until the glory of the home coming.
you are the proof.
you are the inpiration.
to trust to feel this way
forever.		  
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03:38am 15/12/2003
  i used to fuck flesh like this.
that called so helplessly
in a white basement
in a burned mouth.
in a dream that never decided to cease.
until it came true.
and in its frail light
when i dont know how to touch you...
i saw it when it could have died.
the best seat in the house.
to lay myself into the arms
of the concrete walls and distant floors
with nothing heard internal.
and im at the low of the stomach
waiting for a heartbeat or breath or anything.
this october still chills me full of being caring and fearful.
and im a fucking sucker for farewells and the such.
but if this was any worse.
i would look to the comfort i could have felt.
home, i have never changed.
this adorable little death
wrapped in the less than perfect smile
what is left to want.
in those words.
the feeling of forever.
it speaks here for the end of it all.
and i was never perfect.
dreams made me think on terms of the otherwise.
i will speak in forevers name.
to never speak for it again.
i just want you so bad.
apology.		  
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headboard sounds   
02:03pm 07/12/2003
  here are the best dinner table smiles
to fight off our own thoughts.
and with hints of wine,
i can recall the smell of july sweat and scandals
and rainwater tracing down the windows
bearing old song titles on the radio.
there was a time and a place
and we never chose the right ones
with my hand on your belt
and my fingers down the front
into the hair, to take your breath away.
it was so fashionable to call it love.
the hot sheets meant a death for every summer
and these soaked clothes are all we have left.
to prove we were ever there.
so tonight i raise my glass
as we laugh for old times sake
staring into the eyes
by the memories of naked and nothing
screaming at the pleasure
with my hands over your mouth and headboard sounds.
we were just kids confused.
i mailed your letters to hell.		  
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02:36pm 23/10/2003
  i think,
when i used to make
suicide a fantasy
i was more interesting.
all the way back then.
back when
they were just a pair of open legs.
and all my friends
werent just another whistling enemy
kicking a rock down a damp heated street.
it was just under the streetlights
that seperated our homes.
so lets discuss seperation
some other time.
and as for now
its these potential broken bottles
and freshly cut palms.		  
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01:02pm 15/10/2003
  old women walk weary and slower
in the months after their husbands die.
they still wake before the sun
and prepare meals for an empty tablesetting.
and to all the passerbys passing by,
they dont look up, they just mummble hi.
to continue the yard work in front of their...
...her dream-home.
nothing more than a nightmare, now completed alone.
trying to keep their elder will and strength.
at times, i wonder if they imagine a breathing
comfortability sleeping next to them at night.
what is it like to close your eyes and pray to
be with him once again.
past the treasures of oxygen and molecules.
ive never experienced this kind of devotion.
to be turned helpless and hopeless.
so, to the darling gray hairs.
worn hands touching a withered hope.
i hope to be a dead husband some day.		  
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02:44am 25/08/2003
  with those however beautiful words
your sight has amazing tagged to it
and thankfully not california
so i guess im dreaming with my eyes open
to the thought of the sound
of you clanking clumsy and drunken
against the security window
just so i will go to the back
and start feeling loved.
or wanted.
i start to feel you in my face
oddly enough.		  
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11:44pm 17/08/2003
  these conversations live
like cold coffee
they are left set
and refilled as its needed.
you know
i watch you when you dont know.
the smallest parts of your body
that even you dont think about.
filthy feet and too much of a visible naval line.
its pink under your coverings
and i am at your undying will.
to do whatever your hardest heart desires.
its as you wish.
and i spent my last days
asleep in your new home and new bed
smelling of alcohol and old clothes
and i really didnt realize.
that everytime i took a breath.
i was grateful it was where you would
share it as well.
my darling dearest, even if you dont feel it.
im am saying goodbye to saying goodbye
because your farewell kills me all in all.
one day come home
for good.		  
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sorry for the sounds   
03:33pm 21/07/2003
  i shot myself
but i did not die
so i hit my chest hard
choking back on the air
still consuming the last breathy
goodbye
on the phonecall
with alcohol in my taste
you wouldnt know though
would you.
so here is my bidding
when i wrap the telephone cord
around my neck
and jump off the top floor.
whispering to the fairest sunshine of my days
it would be so nice to see you caught dead
since you wouldnt be caught dead
ever with me		  
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02:24am 12/06/2003
  hey there shirley temple smiles
im getting myself caught up in nets
in the white meets black of your monochromes
or maybe it was the just right night.
the radio
radio
radio hits
in order to taste three whole years in three half hours.
so go ahead and tell me about magicians and future fortune tellers.
like finishing the same lines at the same time.
and youve really got me now in stitches and dark skinned
same red faced with the biggest fucking question mark
sewn to the backs of my eyelids.
michigan was cold.		  
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01:30am 09/06/2003
  bright red birds flew through just after the pour.
in my mothers garden.
singing songs with faint sound and thunder in space and time
and the clothesline beat white into the sun breaking sky.
and if the wind blows hard enough again
it may break this neck back once more in a rainwater mist from the leaves of trees older than me.
but young enough to stay care free.
and actually mean it.
so hear what they sing.
humming
the cardinal is definitly dying tonight.		  
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02:43pm 18/05/2003
  i remember eleven thirties
meeting her at my back door
her diner waitress scents
in the brutal january air
and she always said sorry for it
but it never bothered me...i never cared.
mostly, it was cherry cokes with extra cherries
and one too many smokes
whenever i found my way up there
just to see her tell me
she was just too busy to see me.
so it was jukebox 50's gold if i had the quaters
or crane machines to win her a prize
until we had the night.
so i still, sometimes, dream about the phonecall
to let me know she was almost at my door
in the january air eleven thirties
and she would always say "im sorry, i smell like work"
but i never cared..i swear..
it never bothered me.
so hello kiss, and lets get down to business
singing "somewhere...beyond the sea.." in the back of my mind
(where she still stays today)		  
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02:23pm 06/05/2003
  good evening sweet ghost
its been quite some time for truth and memory
and the too close smells and touches
but now..i see you! i swear i see you!
caught just behind every eyelid or bedroom door
and during the rainwater splash season
were the sixty two days straight
that our hearts grew a bit hard
but even these deserted island nights get cold
when theyre graced with the beautiful fear of getting old
so be sure to remember every now and then
why i fell out and comfortably cried into the arms of this ghost again
hell, you knew that keeping the dying from being dead
was the only love i ever knew.....		  
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caspiancomplete
 
 
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