Presently UntitledI went walking and I found I had a million things to say. But when you came to see me I was full and naught. The words will not come right, I think I'm done with words. I think I'm done with trying hands at greatness. I am always in the middle, mediocre kid. My eyes are full with days as I struggle with hands behind my breast. The swelling in my lungs, I feel it here. I am tied down. I am tied down. I need to leave this place or I will lose my mind.Can I find myself lifted? I sit in new corners of this all too familiar everyday and paint my hunger onto pastel pinups. My sketchpad fills with things I'll never be, persons and people I will never be. I could die right now and leave this unfulfilled. I could take a breath and swallow pills. I could dress myself in finest blues and greys to welcome the coming haze. Some part of me says this is what to do. Some part of me says you'd sleep with me, too.I've made a hundred resolutions these few days, but this I think is most resolved. I'm do
swearI promise that my promisesare true. I swear I won'tbeguile or hide a part fromme from you, nor tear myselfin half. this is my heart: inpieces yet intact. this is myheart.and with a shutting lens I holdyou in my eyes for one moment intime, before you run before thesefaces shift, before the crowd movesforth and eats you whole, a victim ofthe city buses' swim.one day I'll row upstream tomeet you in the middle of theintersect, that giant square where angrydrivers try to cast us to the sides.but stop, and say these words; the hornsblare on their own accord. you'llgo to school to hear them sing andwrite your song to match. and Iwill play, off time.you'll go to school and sing butI will stay the same, with booksand notes and my off-beatingdrum. you'll go to school and sing. andswear to stay in love.
Crazy AngelIt was the same old scene. The blaring music, the flashing lights, the coma-inducing fog, smoke from God knows what, the smell of sweat and cheap beer. The faces were indistinguishable and as Mat leaned back, they faded into the frame of strobe light frenzy. He sat on the fringes of the club, coke in hand, watching the mess of dance floor. He wasnt sure why he returned to the joint night after night, wasting away the hours in the same shadowy corner he haunted now. But something drew him to this place. The memory, perhaps only a dream, a girl, candy red lips, merlot, a taste to remember.So, whats the craziest thing youve done lately?For a moment again he thought he had imagined her voice, after replaying it so many times in his sleep. But when he looked up from the floor he found her there, just as he imagined, short black hair in spikes, a tight red dress that draped around her slim figure, barely covering. Not that he was complaining.Black stil
please: don't.Would you meet me where theothers dared not follow? Wouldyou find me huddled andembrace this sorrow? Could youwould you, speak, might takethe elegance and steal it fromsoon shattered form? It's all I'dever silent ask, those eyes half-lidded, pleading and prophetic,stitches carved into pale skin."Love me," the bandagereads. But as the scars, the wordsremain unsaid. She knowsnot where devotion lies.In drop of crimson? Surely youhave never known a passion quiteas fervent as that lust for red.Sweet skin deep affairs had givenher what stolen words could not, aspictured thousands floating from suchperfect, perfect parting lips. But thesewere only dreams.And when our breath awakens, truthis found in mocking gravelike still. Justas in hollow tombs of old, the message's clear:We are alone.Alone in bledfast land, and noneare spared. Please don'tpretend you cared.
December Twenty-firstOn December twenty first thenight explodes. The shadowswaltz, somnambulant as softdebris echo the sky. I couldn'tfind you in the mass ofgreyscale faces, one and justthe same, as youbecame.I found the blistering fusebecoming as I donned it,morning moribund. Soon wewould vow our silence, dear,until death do us part.I sealed my lips foryou, shed all I had andfell.A n dI nT h eB l a c k n e s &
10: HospitalThe flash of stagnant redsand blues; lie still in lotsin wait. The doors slide &