all about the chill

ocean

nothing can make me see it

nothing can shake me free

spend my time wasting my time

wasting away parts of me

i drown myself, expose myself

open up wide to the sea

my world turns over, let it spill over

wash away me from me



silent hill

i live in a town where no one speaks

we can’t see one another

or feel the outdoor air

we sit at home and

eat at the world

through the television

more real to us than what’s beyond our door

which is usually dogshit

i think even the dogs

are learning to be aloof

self-contained and private

proving there is no nature

and no spirit

that we can’t box in

or out

with our individual walls



monotone

i don’t put it on anymore

the light and airy guise

the smiling facade

i have become accustomed to presenting

when i see you

or speak to you

or hear of you

trying not to sound phony

is almost as hard as trying to be real

i try not to do that anymore either

i don’t let my voice break where it wants to

and i try not to let the words i am thinking

the words every part of me is feeling

come out of my mouth

when i speak you

it is in monotone

the flat speech of a man with no other recourse

than to hide in the middle

i try to stay somewhere between

veiling my feelings

and hurting yours

which really, when i think about it

is nowhere at all



my life in my hands

a phone call at 3 a.m.

receiving it instead of making it, for once

am i still alive, she asks.

yes

and i can prove it.

it’s written right there on my hand, see?

alive




disclosure

if i could hate you

i would tell you Everything

everything i am feeling and thinking

if I could hate you

i wouldn’t tell you anything

a flat tone

but i can’t hate you

so i just tell you

some things

like

“i could never hate you”

and believe me, Love

i’ve tried




scary movie just before bed

i sometimes think that if i just cover my eyes

and wait

i can get through this

if i just stick my head underneath the blankets,

like when i was scared as a child

and then pin the blankets down around my body

so that nothing can get in

or out

eventually this feeling will pass;

that my mind will wander

and my breathing will slowly go back to normal

that i will somehow forget to hurt

and without realizing it

i will pull the blankets back down

to inhale the crisp air

and see the beauty

of the outside world

once again



gravel

i miss the gravel in your voice

(though you hate it)

it reminded me of when my mom and i

would take trips upstate

and of when i was a kid

we would arrive at whomever's house we were visiting

deep in the woods off some mountain road

and pull into their long, dark driveway

and i'd wake up to the noise

of the car tires on the gravel

and i'd know we were there

and i'd get that excited feeling,

that the fun was about to begin

---it felt the same way, sometimes

when you would call my name from the next room


the reel thing

lost in a whirlwind of my own design

(but i’m fairly certain i can see the anheuser-busch label go by every now and then)

i just keep spinning round and round

watching my life spin out of control

and as it circles and circles

and i go whirling through each day

in a circle in an oval in a vortex

(and sometimes not at all)

i have run across so many things

just by not even trying to steer

and learned things about myself, good and bad

kind of like trial by fire raises your self-awareness

sometimes i am scared and sometimes i am sickeningly fascinated

by the destruction i can create

deep down i can feel myself changing and letting go

of this capacity to feel and care

that i had worked so hard for so long to possess

but as i bounce and bump and drag myself along

i just keep hoping that the next lap

will suddenly bring me face to face with her

and she’ll catch me in her arms

and take me home



car alarm

just down the street

in my dirty little neighborhood

shone the brightest light

I ever hoped to see

days and nights in her room

that made me feel like I was home

flowers on the walls

and the smell of scented candles

the streetlights seemed friendlier

through her green blinds

errant car-alarms in the middle of the night

were alarm clocks, rousing us to love

And the softest, warmest her



headcleaner

last night i called you

my head was just checking

if love had let go of my heart

questions had left me

stuck in a cycle

stuck here and ripping apart

i wanted to see you

to tell you a story

of the way light catches your eyes

thought maybe you’d meet me

say that you need me

and all of those beautiful lies

i see the great distance

the spaces between us

the hole that i fell in half-blind

don’t know how to reach you

or tell you i’m sorry

you're such a hard one to find

i know my heart’s beating

i see my reflection

alone in a world on its knees

but my heart is swollen

empty and aching

and i rest but can’t find my ease

yet i still smile

when i see your picture

though your voice still breaks me in two

the story is over

and i’m not the villain

but i see the hero in you









(absence) of words

all the words you stole from me

(that i can’t say to any other)

are the words that move life forward

they are words that set the moon afire in winter

and fill the cool, blue ocean in summer

words that can carry one’s heart away

in the smiling children’s faces

and sweet tears of the old

all these words of passion and love

and all that is good and strong and clean

i gave them to you

sweetly and unafraid—

unaware that i was losing these words forever

the words inside me now

(these diseased and ugly words)

all they do is drive away the light

so please don’t tell me i am unkind

or selfish

or cruel

i am only working

with what is left of me



ugly little pieces

do you remember me

my laugh and my easy smile

the way i came into your home

the way i asked for you on the phone

i could see the humor in anything

do you remember me

and the light in my eyes

when you turned out the lamp and settled into bed

when I pulled you close to me and held you quietly until you slept

or told you a story until i did

do you remember me

smiling at you in the middle of the night

when you woke to find me looking at your face

and running my hands along your collarbone

along every inch of you--you'd tell me, "don't die"

do you remember me

waking in the morning with that same light

trying keep you in bed and work be damned

my job could wait a few more minutes

for a few more minutes of neverending you

do you remember me happy

singing badly in the car

and so many crafty touches in the bars

my hand under the pillows on the couch

always reaching for you

you don’t remember me

all you remember is someone who is broken

into all of these ugly little pieces

that slide easily into your pockets

where you can keep them

secret



unready

everyone is so near

pushing up against me

i can almost feel them

with my hands

and i can see them

hear what they say

but that is it

i don’t feel them inside at all

where it matters

i am alone

and i am not someone

who likes to be alone

lying in my bed with my eyes wide open

listening to a song

and waiting for something to click

i feel like i’m not here

and none of this is real

and nothing at all is happening

feeling so much like i am just drifting by

and nothing i love lasts or will last

watching each self-important minute pass

like it is fleeing from me

because i don’t know how to use it right

or maybe didn’t deserve it to begin with

spending each night outside myself

searching my mind for a way out

for my heart

chasing my thoughts away in bars

and finding them waiting for me

when i get back

and it never feels like home

when I walk into my room

exhausted but far from sleep

unable to feel connected to

or a part of the simplest things

that might mean something to me

waiting for the nightmares

to give way to dreams

wanting to move past this reality

into a new and brighter one

but never sure that will happen

and feeling so much longing and sadness

way beyond the concept of unrequited love

and I almost laugh when people tell me

the rift between us

can be filled with facts

or with time

or with anything but pain

each day is a struggle getting out of bed

with no sense of accomplishment

when i finally do

the strength is there but the will is lacking

all this freakish energy with no direction

wears me and those around me down

“exhaustive”—i hear it a lot

and i can make no answer to that charge

how else to be other than how i am

but i wish i wasn’t me sometimes

and sometimes i wish i was you

or simply that i could change



the water

“Hand me the water”

“Don’t drink all the water.”

“I think we knocked over the water.”

“It’s your tunr to go get some more water.”

The water. It’s that glass of refreshing goodness on the night table. Its appearance as we went into her room to go to bed always signalled to me that this night was going to be a good night. That we were going to make love. And it was on the bedstand a heck of a lot.

When she would bring it into the room, it was a promise. When I would get it, it was more like a question. But it wasn’t bad, being that way. It was just our way—how we did things. The water was an unspoken communication between us. She’d tell me, while we were catching our breath and rearranging the bedclothes--afterwards-- not to drink all the water. I never would. If I did, well, I‘d get more water.

And it would be another question.



reset button

Your perfume on a stranger as I cross a street

Your hair on my clothes even after they’ve been dry cleaned

A song on the radio that keeps me from sleep

Your words in my head that stay stuck on repeat

“I love you”

“I love you”

“I love you”

***

“You’ve gotta go”




squatter

Get out, you little cheapskate

Get out of my space

You haven’t paid the rent in months

And it doesn’t look like you’re going to

So get the hell out, already

You signed all the papers

And moved in your things

You hung up your pictures

And painted the walls in your color

And made yourself toast every night

Things were real peachy

And there were some good times

Then you suddenly quit your job,

And locked your door from inside

And I haven’t seen you for weeks

I can hear you tinkering around in there

I guess you are just passing the time

Waiting for the sheriff to evict you

Well, apparently he’s busy, so I am waiting too.

Why won’t you just leave?

I steal your mail

And I’ve turned off your heat

I’ve shut off the power

And I don’t even wanna know how you are keeping clean

Yet you persist, somehow

You’re squatting in my heart

And I’m losing out each day you’re there

I can’t go in and clean it out

I can’t fix what you’ve broken

And no one else can move in



bluesman

I wish there was a way to be more easy-going about my sadness. I wish I could feel bluesy and resigned about it. Maybe if I could play guitar, I could get to there. I could sing little ditties about it, filled with beautiful bittersweet words that were at the same time indicative of my maturity, and clearly showed that I accepted the reality of these painful feelings. I wish I believed in a someday that would make all this all right. Maybe, if I could play guitar, this would all be a lot more manageable.



you're in

i got 86’ed from her tree

so respectfullye

and I got told to take care of me

so sincerely

well that’s just pee pee pee

so now I’m sitting at the bar

or I’m in the car

with the radio on

playing some sad song

where did I go wrong?

i’ve lit my head on fire

and slashed her tires

clipped her telephone wires

and ached with desire

until my hand grew tired

and if I could go back again

i’d try to be her friend

i’d try not to pretend

and believe her when

she says “this will end”



spoutain

my words come in a bunch

and spring up like a water spout

they burst forth from the ocean

and rise powerfully into the air

a massive force breaking the surface

and pushing all above it skyward

but I can never quite place them

directly under you

(which is ironic, because that’s exactly where I feel I am)

so all you hear is a loud eruption

and see this plume in the distance

sometimes you get a bit wet

from the spray

and sometimes you rise and fall

just a little

from the waves they create

damn cheery looking, ain't I?

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