The Foundation.

When you feel
those bloodshot eyes
sliding down your back
or the cold slithering hand
of another
busted relationship
brushing past your ear,
do you feel
scared
ambitious
or
lost?
I feel all and yet nothing
broken
and yet
I am rebuilt with each shattered brick--
a testament to who I was
and who I am
but
what will I become?

A Stranger Once.

When we knew each other,
did we really know?
And when we kissed
did we bare it all?
And now that you've left
I feel this familiar haze
creeping in
I think we're strangers
again.

Rain.

Today I feel like the rain:
grey
and cool
and impartial
to the life that happens
with or without me
before and after me
and during me as well.
My problems
will spill over into next week
an overflowing gutter
of rain water,
dead leaves and twigs,
a cigarette butt
disintegrating.

- - -

It's been raining a lot here. I like it: the chill in the air, the damp air hanging off me like silk, the way everything goes green after a day of heavy downpour. I keep my window open because the sound of raindrops smashing into the ashphalt is soothing. When I hear it, I breath again. I forget how tired I always am. I forget my money problems and how all my friends are travelling and I'm stuck here working two jobs and barely scraping by, barely affording to pay my rent and eat and save money to go to school. Just so I'll get a decent job. Maybe.

I guess I just feel stuck. More stuck than I've ever been in my life. And I feel miniscule and unimportant and beaten down. I don't even know why I'm writing this here, but I guess it's times like this when my writing is in some respects at its best. It's a catharsis I suppose, a release for my tired soul.

Roads.

The road moves
in a slow methodical dance,
each twist
each turn
each spread of the shoulders
only to contract
with the next cyclical  movement.
I lose myself in
her body
her hair
that black as coal stare
as she rips down my walls
piece by piece
and I watch
the road go by.

Chromatic Scale.

I'm not just some
diatonic scale
you can fit into
your rhythm.
I won't just work
in whatever key
you put me in.
I'm more
chromatic
than that.

Trash

When the sun burns out,
what will we have but our premonitions?
and when the oil runs out,
and we reach the fallout
and people drag themselves from the gutter
to the trash heap
what will we have?

When our time on earth ends,
what will we have but our preconceptions?
We won't comprehend
when we reach the road's end
and there is nothing left to lend
or take to the trash heap,
what will we have?

No Good.

Restless
anxiety
I'm no good
No sleep
fidget through the night
need to
build
create
but
I'm no good.

Let It Go.

I thought
I buried those thoughts
in a 6 by 6 grave.
I thought
I sealed that box
and hid the skeleton
in the closet.
But now that it's here
in front of me
staring me down
with daggers
for eyes
I'm wondering
can I let this go?

- - -

It's been a long time. Sorry. I've been so busy dealing with my band and school and work and the future that I just haven't had much time to write for myself. Even the nights when I'm free I find more and more that I just want to curl up and sleep. Forget about everything for a few hours.

I Need To Work Harder.

Today I read this article called "6 Harsh Truths That Will Make You a Better Person". It was a real eye opener. As I was reading it I thought: "This is what I want, and this is what I need to do." It was the kind of real talk that we don't get anymore. It was the kind of thing that I think we all need to hear.

Pretty much the author talked about how the world doesn't care how nice of a person you are. It cares about what you can provide, and how what you are inside is important because of what it makes you do. That really got me thinking about what I provide. What skills do I have? What do I bring to the table? What do I want to do, and how am I doing to get there? And I sort of realized that I'm not doing enough, that I need to work harder to be the kind of writer and creator that I want to be.

I need to work harder. That's weird coming from me I think, because I'm known to be the biggest procrastinator in existence.

I was thinking back to when I was fiffteen. My sister has this dinky little guitar that she was learning on, but she never really played it. I had tried to learn to play when I was younger, but it never really materialized for me, because I didn't want to do the work. But I picked up that ugly yellow guitar, and my stepdad was like, "Here's a D chord." It took me a long time to get anywhere. I played until I had blisters on my thumb and my fingers were bruised. I played for hours everyday. I'm still not an amazing guitarist, but I'm pretty good. I'm still constantly learning and getting frustrated with it, but where would I be if I hadn't put all that time and effort into initially learning?

I would be one of those people that I hate. Those people that say, "Well I tried to learn, but it was too hard, so I quit." Yeah, I tried to learn too, and it was hard, and it's still hard. But once you get over that, it gets easier.

I don't want to be that person anymore. I want to be the kind of person that brings something valuable to the table. And that's who I'm going to be. Screw all my previous new years resolutions. I'm going to be a person that DOES stuff.

6 Harsh Truths That Will Make You A Better Person.

The Concussion.

Pull me from
this concussive state.
I can't see straight
I don't want to
and I won't look you
in the eye,
because when I do
I see trails of smoke
a fading line
of what we used to be.
I see stars
spangled and caught
row on row in symmetry
and I'm lost in it all
and my head pounds.
It still pounds.

Spalted Maple Telecaster!

I am now the very excited and proud owner of this guitar! I'm so excited I thought I'd share it with you guys.

Edit: In my excitement I forgot the best part about showing off a new guitar: Specs! So it's a solid body made of mohogany and sports a spalted maple top. The neck pick-up is a Duncan '59, and the bridge is a Duncan Pearly Gates. It has one volume knob and one tone with a coil tap, so you get a lot of versatility when it comes to tone. I'm honestly in love with it; I can't wait to try it out at a band practise.

The Way The Cards Fall.

One day
all your kingdom
will burn to the ground
and you will ask God
"why me?"
"what have I done
to deserve this?"
and in response
you will hear
the simple scraping scythe
of the wind
as it carries the ash away
to a new kingdom
and bears fertile soil
for someone else.

The Tide.

The tide is rising--
I'm afraid
of this swelling emotion
afraid it's taking over.
I watch as
the dark water curls
and crashes
over my head.
My reflection
looks strangely
like my mother
and my father too
and I'm drowned
in anxiety
and failure
their's
and mine.