emerging.

I'm still here.


Nothing seems to matter now. Do I live for nothing? No, I live to tell the story. I live to make something new. I knew that someday I would win. Hopefully, I will win again. But if I never do, then know that this has meant the world to me. I've given my all. I am full of love. I am empty.

.

under water at the moment.

xo.
tom.

wild turkeys

if it was up to me,
the stars would dip into our lakes
and get wet with anticipation.
our modern world would cry out.
and spinning around endlessly,
searching for the answer,
it would crumble into tiny pieces
and disappear into the humid air of summer.
a wild turkey would breeze past us in the night,
drunk with the weight of everything.
and we would be left laughing,
sitting by a fire just as lost as ever,
saying swim coyote swim.
but it is not up to me.

:

ghosts pass through... ghosts like me with their subtle maneuvers and quiet words. what started with a plan and several muddled dreams becomes a montage of laughter and misdirections. and eventually it becomes you, and you are only what you are. vaguely remembered by many and well-known by a few, not even understood by yourself. at some point my ideas joined with chaos, and the white canvas that was the future flipped into darkness, still blank but ominous. ghosts like me can't stay in one place for long. ghosts like me can't be with themselves. there's no such thing as ghosts.

excerpt

maybe it ends like that, in a rise of passion. stumbling sexuality and my heart stops. i know it stops. but maybe it never ends.

tommy x 3

oh mr sunshine, i know your kind
you're gonna die out there- you're gonna die out there
oh mr nice guy, i used to be like you
and now i don't know what i do
i had to let my fire die so i could build it again

maybe this time things will work out
maybe this time i'll be me
cos' that ain't me, that ain't me, no

and there will come a time
when you can make up for the things you've done
it's in the fire now
i'm on the fire now
i'm in the fire now

tommy times three
i had a load and now i'm older than i used to be
no mr sunshine, no mr nice guy, just me
and the fire i'm building in me
and the fire is growing in me
and the fire i'm building in me
oh, you can't see it but it's there

.

the fire.

walking home with Blue
we have bags and bags of fruit
so it turns into a game- the girl laughs like she's insane
the rain begins to pour and my shoulders get so sore
she drops her bags and runs
so i reach and pull my gun

and i shoot Blue down
she fires on me
so i hit the ground and count to three

no i am not a man
but i do all i can
to live a healthy life- and together we just might
find a place where colours sore
that will warm us to the core
because my eyes can't take no more
this lonely life's a bore

oh, but deep inside me
there is a fire
i feel it's heat

and Blue, I don't shoot you
if you don't shoot me

...............

oh i am on your side- and i refuse to hide
the finches all run wild- and i walk by wide eyed

don't take it all, don't take it all
if you leave it here, i will fall
don't take it off, don't take it off
wear it like you mean it, girl
wear it like it's all you got
because it's all we got

you could be my bride- you look beautiful in white
but i can't be untied from my whole life

don't take it all, don't take it all
if you come back, then i won't falter, no
don't take it on, don't take it on
leave it here so i won't call out to you
like the finches do

i'd call after you like the finches do
i walk by wide eyed

................

you've been here so long
you've been blocking all my light
get away from the window, i wanna crawl out in the day
don't you know i ain't afraid of nothing no more
don't you know
i ain't afraid of nothing and no one no more

oh, you're a sight for sore eyes
if you'd open the blinds

you've been oh so cold
come put your hands on my fire
cos' i feel like we're getting old
come watch my hopes and dreams expire
come see my hopes and dreams say bye bye
i'm so tired

somehow they are still burning
they are still here
somehow they are still burning
they're still with me

.............

if you come and beg forgiveness, i'll pour you a cup of tea
these mugs are only good for you and me
and in the steam i will see faces
of all the friends that i have known
i ask you now, how can you ignore all the love i've shown?

and yes it's true that the light is going to die
and i think it's true that the clouds are going to cry on us
i don't see the point
in dancing around your pain anymore
i don't need to fight
give me your hand, we'll go out dancing in the night

if i'm on my knees and you're on your knees
then everything is forgiven, you see

.............

days are catching up with me
i thought i was fast but i'm so sticky
like your fingers holding onto me
and your warm mouth, the sea
salty but still so sweet
are we still swimming?
is it still raining?
i got hands on me
are they still moving?

but more importantly,
are we still breathing?
are we still being?
i can't tell anymore

if these days are running me, it's cos' i'm scared to bleed
it comes out like raspberry
the colour of her lips
and it tastes like them
and it sticks to me

a single man

i am exactly what i appear to be.
if you look closely.

the come back.

I haven't posted in some time. stop.
The days are getting hot. stop.
I have no sense of time. stop.
Time is meaningless. stop.
Time has stopped. stop.
Embrace the sun. stop.
Feel the sweat. stop.
I am on a mission. go.

The come-back ends when I say it ends.
It only ends once. And I end with it.

~~~~~

she had big eyes. they would swallow you whole and you would decompose slow within them. pulsing and shrinking. acid eating away at your soft flesh. her warm mannerisms. inviting. gentle laughter such a comforting beauty- the strongest weapon. it's sharp and precise. and those eyes could take any colour. if raining they might seem a dark brown. if sunny, and looking out onto water, they could go through blues and greens. and occasionally avoiding colour altogether and simply reflecting your own shade back at you, so that you would feel as if you knew her. and you wanted to know her. but you didn't think you ever would... and now that you do, those eyes are a stunning curse that only come alive when you sleep. closing eyes to see them open. constant reunions painful. they will never go away. she will never go away. she has you.

.

be the fuck you want to see in the world.

re: bird.

a red bird flew down from the blue, perched itself in my line of view, among brown brush and gray ideas. it whistled and i stopped walking. it said, "now is your chance." i continued up the hill towards the blue.

the tallest man

There’s a crow moon coming in where you keep looking now
it is the hollow month of march now sweeping in
Let’s watch phenomenons arise out of the darkness
within the light, she’s my storming heroine.

And all machines abandoned by the ancient races
I hear them humming down below, in hollow earth
I guess I’ve known a while I will go under too
but just for now, I let the spring in storm return

I left my heart to the wild hunt coming
I’ll live until the call
and I plan to be forgotten when I’m gone
I’ll be leaving in the fall

- Kristian Matsson

.

i'm turning on the light to the strangest forms.
ninjas and samurais.

sitting in the sky with a brand new friend
who always tells the truth.

we're sharing horror stories, some horror films.
sex comes to kill you in the end.

eyes on the lake, the same mistakes
surfacing behind my tired face.

i'm dancing in the night with the strangest forms.
swans and olympians.

swimming in the lake with an old friend
who only knows the truth.

crying for no reason, crying for fun.
maybe we're dying.

the rise.

When I was at the bottom… the lowest rack of guns, cheapest drivers, kids size shoes… someone told me that you had to hit rock bottom before you could climb to the top. At the bottom of everything the top is all that is visible, and the middle is just a blur. The rise: a colourful variable. I said to the top of what? What am I climbing? But the person who had spoken was close to me and knew that they didn’t need to say anything more, just let me brew. A single thought can cause inner change and revolution of the soul. Anything that could spur a voyage from the gutter, rolling back into the road to be hit again by speeding vehicles, that kind of life alteration would have to come from within me, not from anyone else. Advice is worthless to those who aren’t listening, deaf to their surroundings, blind to self-destruction. But from the lowest of lows I began to listen. Listen to friends and to the nature around me. The air had stories and the streets held perspectives. And I spoke to myself, and I heard… And I climbed.

kick.

i'm not hard to find.
i am out in the day.
the sunlight dripping down my face
like honey moving slow to sweeten,
so sticky, so driven.
push aside weeds, push through bad deeds.
the air is back and so is the river.
every step i take for stronger ankles,
straighten out my back
and fly.

HOLD ON FOR THE END

see see riding is easysysy
slowfade slow fades lowfade
springing ringing in my head
smooth and delicate as the horizon
soft to touch touch
way too much much much
for my tiny hands and stands
activating sweat glands
bodytouch
see see sea me in a late night
come on my quick flight
to a quick love
so quick kick
you are beautifullll
it's sick.

the back path.

old friends never go away. i threw a pebble in the lake and i could see faces i hadn't seen in years. they will remain, and when they don't then life will no longer be worth it. if i don't live for others, then who do i live for? certainly not for myself.

we would walk the back path with two guitars and no directions. talking to the trees. talking to me and my ghosts. and then we swam out and never really came back. i'm here but i am not here. sick with love of the past, taking shallow breaths, trying so hard to keep the muscles going forward into nothing. and the nothing is the most beautiful thing i have ever seen.

5.

hollow building. a remaining prism.
with dusty compartments,
off-white,
once lived in and personal.
the air is re-claiming,
decomposing,
eroding foundations.
there is no longer any noise,
any movement,
no longer any laughter.
i am the last human being.
and i will watch this structure collapse,
re-uniting its elements with the earth,
and the cloud of smoke can take me too.
because i'm not moving.
unable,
or unwilling.
unsomething, me.

............................

her WIDE BLUE EYES
undo me, unwind me,
unravel and find me.

intro.

I’m just walking. If there was anywhere to go on a day like today I would walk there. But there isn’t. Just the sun moving slowly across its sky and me moving in circles far below, looking up. The snow has melted in our town and I can picture the grass fighting upwards, buds on trees whispering of revolution. And I’m walking in this change of season thinking about how seasons can change but people can’t ever really change and realizing what crazy means and what crazy does. How can I not think of Deep Water, of dives to retrieve lost souls? I’m not a bad man. I don’t think I’m good, but I’m certainly not bad. And besides, who can tell the difference?

chunk 3

you want to talk about the future? well, i can't. let's chuck shit at these walls. at night in the city all the losers come out. and i could be one of them. the sidewalk familiar, the streetlights quick. the bars full because it's so fucking cold. i'm in the street holding my dick. oh, heaven, you're so thick with fog, it's haunting. i'm better off aiming underneath. it's warmer and i've lost hope. a former statue of happiness in my yard, still hard but all in pieces. i'm scarred but it's all just creases. you want to talk about the future? no, you don't want to talk to me. so the conversation ceases to exist. i refuse to talk about this. move on.

______

She was fifteen, lying on a dock and looking at the stars with a boy. They had spent their summers together since they were little. They only knew each other in the context of the lake. He was four years older. It was a cold night in August and both of them were shivering. Neither of them wanted to say goodnight, though, so ______ tucked herself into the boy, under his arm. Her long legs gently entwined themselves with his, and her face moved closer and closer to his until there was nothing left to do but kiss him. No other option. And she wanted to. And he didn’t know what happened… and he didn’t care. If the dock had flipped and both of them drowned he wouldn’t have cared. _______’s hair draped her eyes. She tilted her head back and smiled a shy smile. And the boy said, what did I do to deserve that?

combo

- what time are you getting here?
- not sure.
- you've gotta tell me so i can pick you up.
- k.
- you're not going to come.
- yes i am. why wouldn't i?
- yeah, why wouldn't you?
- what is that emo shit on your profile?
- i do lots of emo shit.
- haha.
- why is that funny?
- you need to lighten up. stop being so fucking emo.
- well, you never come through when you say you're going to.

...............

love is in the stomach, and it's in the hands, and it cannot be controlled or wielded.

.......................

- new socks.
- why?
- to keep my feet warm.
- we have loads of socks.
- they never match.
- you have to make pairs.
- i wanted new ones. i like the feel of new socks. they're so cozy and warm and they don't have any holes and the elastics are tight.
- yeah, i get it.
- and i got new boxers.
- jesus.

..............

a shell, in whose hollow caverns the shocking effects of heartfelt pursuits are just resonating.

chunk 2

i'm not in this for the money or for possessions. i'm looking for something unknown and it will be happy and there will be songs sung through the summers, and there will be love. but paths do not present themselves to those without ambition or plans and i have none, only hopes. no goals. no survival, no team. just me and my pen and my breakfast. coffee. cereal. promise me you won't ever get real because real doesn't exist just feel my wrists i'm on the outs but destroying doubts at the same time because i don't want anything to be mine. lose everything. come on down and walk through the empty future with me, it's got endless possibilities and it's nice not to be tied down to this world and it's boring boys and girls. swirls.

chunk 1

i cannot lose a thing, but maybe my voice and some inspiration to the moving water in march that seems to wonder like me and wander like me and stare back empty. so who is anyone really? i don't know a pretty face in this town and that's okay for tomorrow and new beginnings but i'd like to settle for a bit and stop kicking. little chance of moving up. little chance of traveling very far and the night sky tells me so frequently with its laughter and its mocking stars so bright with things we don't understand. hold my hand. some wrong kind of ambition, sweet girls in their spin and i'm just watching. no mission. i once had a love and now i don't have permission.

unafraid

WHOA THE GREAT DESTROYER
grabs you by the goals(souls)
crawl back, get back again
REDEMPTION
just words, just small ideas
but still the come back
still it's worth it

(and big words fall out of broken mouths and broken hearts that carry sadness like a badge of honour, don't cross me. because i am nothing and therefore, unafraid)

98%

oh burden
i worsen
oh, worse off
oh, fate
is this all you've given?
is it all that we gave?
oh, comely
oh come
i've spun
i am so much more than done
and this year runs on and on
this time of year, it hums
with a single-cell note
left ringing through the air
i am humming along
i am scared
oh, lovely
i bother
it's easy
i care
oh, lovely
i go outside

helix.

"your love is different than mine. what i mean is, when you close your eyes, for that moment, the center of the universe comes to reside within you. and you become a small figure within that vastness, which spreads without limit behind you, and continues to expand at tremendous speed, to engulf all of my past, even before i was born, and every word i've ever written, and each view i've seen, and all the constellations, and the darkness of outer space that surrounds the small blue ball that is earth. then, when you open your eyes, all that disappears."

from Banana Yoshimoto's 'Helix'

4.

- there is a day called tomorrow that you will never get to see. but still you must always be preparing for it, setting mysterious goals to follow into the grey. if you don't care about tomorrow then you're not living.
- what am i doing, then?
- just walking, and breathing i guess.
- what's wrong with that?
- nothing. but love and happiness are in tomorrow.
- i don't care so much about those anymore.

-------------------

- there's a storm inside my head.
- just shine a flashlight through it.
- i can't.
- if you are the storm, then you can bring the calm.

-------------

her memory is like honey crawling on me.
it moves from my bottom lip over my chin.
sticky and sweet.
and i am powerless,
limbs locked together.
i close my eyes and re-live,
sugar thoughts and old smiles,
things that are gone.
holding my strength in the balance.
i open my eyes and look on,
towards wildflowers and the breeze,
the raw honey i am swimming in
is thick and eternal,
but i can move through it now.
i can push forward,
pull myself out of it.
and go from being trapped by the sweetness of yesterday,
to a blissful emptiness,
a canvas on which to start anew.

TARGET PRACTICE
go go go go go
hey hey hey hey hey
my my my my my
go go go go go
SAY YES

A BREAK FROM

---------------------

Those nights don’t come along anymore, when we might lock ourselves in the house with a rented movie. Disconnect the phone. Once, shortly after we met, I cooked dinner for Sarah, fish I had bought that morning at the market. She stood behind me at the stove with her hands on my stomach.
“You use too much oil,” she said, and I felt her smile on the back of my neck. But I liked to hear the onions scream and watch hot oil fly from the pan.

something about march

GET BACK UP AGAIN
STAND UP STRONGER THAN YOU EVER HAVE BEEN


if these whispers suddenly catch up to me
where and what will i be?
surely i'm no longer on trial
surely i'm done trying to be something
because i am nothing

to come back is to risk everything
and nothing at the same time
with nothing to lose
how can i not be brave?


HE SHOOTS HE SCORES HE CRIES HE DIES
HE IS AND WILL AGAIN BE


here is the concrete, my friend
grind my soul into it and wait for summer
wait for gates to lift
the birds sing my song of revival
these birds sing just for me now
fucking beauty stuck in my head


DEAF and DEAD / left with bread

3.

We were traveling down the river in a canoe that my grandfather had built. We canoed often. There was a spot where the river opened up into a pool and we would swim. The water slowed and the surrounding woods made the simple basin of water into a refuge. My parents loved it there. When they held each other in the cold water it was as if the forms of their bodies, with valleys and hills unique, were meant to be placed into the other, assembling a figure as natural and bold as the Rockies. If I stood on one particularly large rock by the edge of the water I could see the river continue on for miles, with violent rapids blocking our delicate exploration. I imagined a varicose vein on the landscape, carved out and defined by age, eventually reaching the coast and pouring itself into the Pacific Ocean, becoming part of something much larger. But I couldn’t see that far.

*

i know you'll help us when you're feeling better
and we realize that it might not be for a long, long time
but we're willing to wait on you
we believe in everything that you can do
if you could only lay down your mind

i want you to try to help yourself

- sad brad smith

2.

to the one who was to be my world, but failed me, all i could manage to say was that someday we might sit in the crying light of dusk, thinking about ice cream, trying to pinpoint precisely when our lives had stranded us at the side of the road, and we will laugh redemption, pounding our joyful fists into the soil. and then i told her she had beautiful eyes, and that would never change.

----------

- what are you doing?
- holding your hand.
- why?
- why not?

beebop

- it's a little late for that kind of thinking.
- it's never too late.
- it's always too late.
- how about a clean slate?
- bee bop budum. are you rhyming with me?
- why don't you just wait and see?
- because i'm really tired right now.
- i think you're a wuss.
- oh?
- i think you're a puss.
- alright.
- sour puss...
- mmm.
- it is never too late to change yourself.
- i don't want to change.
- well, that's kind of strange.
- how so?
- you're always feeling low.
- i know.
- you know.
- but that's me. i will always be wrong. my song will always be a sad song.
- see, i thought you were strong.

1.

i was young when my mother spoke to me about love. she used words i didn't know, phrases and equations that scurried away into the atmosphere far above. her voice had a determined sincerity that was beyond me as she attempted to explain why she would never leave my father. it was a soft and cutting afternoon on the river, and i felt as if a volley of arrows had descended upon me, so many missing the mark, but at least one piercing my little body. one sharp arrow that made me understand that love was something important, something i needed to find. a mysterious goal. i knew it was something good. but now i know that i was wrong.

---------------

sleep much?
wake up. munch munch.
snowy crunch.
everyone of us is a natural disaster. fuck.
too much?
close your mouth let's go for a ride.
out of town.
for a slide down the street,
find hills of good,
and pretend that we always meant well.
we mean well.
punch punch.
gentle touch.
everyone of us is a liar.
i could spend an eternity hiding from myself.
i will die tomorrow.
everyone of us will be in a corner soon.
run much?
hide and seek? guts.
we have no guts.
drive drunk much?
such such a waste of potential.
everyone of us is blind.
nothing is fine. fuck.

i think i could write nice poems

oh hello sun, you look lovely today

the clouds
parting in weary desperation
reveal their better halves
and reveal sky
blue as pride
the atmosphere calling down
to us mere mortals
it's okay now
clear and bright and blue
little marbles bouncing
down the streets
dancing to sweet songs
that we had forgotten
dancing for tomorrows
and yesterdays and right now
this moment of crisp forgiveness
that is brief
short of breath
and over
as soon as i bring my eyes back down
from the sunshine
that is pre-maturely
hinting at spring

ndng

This flow of memories unnerves me. Marking things that I have done, things I should have done, but nothing of the things I will do. Nostalgia is calling me out on the time I’ve wasted. And now my bedroom door swings open on its own, unlocked. It is morning. I stumble into the kitchen to find an oak tree growing through the tiles. It consumes the entire room, its branches sweeping over the walls, the low ceiling no longer present above me. Happy birthday, it says. How did you get here? There isn’t any soil, I say. And the tree says, I keep growing until I die. My eyes are sore and my legs are stiff. I feel as though I haven’t moved in ages. I grab a box of cereal from the counter and sit down under the tree to eat breakfast.

a view

I CANNOT I WILL NOT FALL FROM HERE

bushes brush the knees
and check for pureness of heart
rushing blood to various encampments
through various messaging systems
tunnels of love and communication
as the eyes rise up from the dirt ahead
and glimpse tomorrow, a view
water lies below
all lies below
this mountain lookout

FUCKKK all that you have DONNNE
fuck ALL that you haven't done

AN ANGEL IRONS MY FAVOURITE SHIRT AND TELLS ME TO SIT NEARBY AND KEEP HER COMPANY AND SO I DO BECAUSE I HAVE NOT BEEN GIVEN A CHOICE IN THE MATTER

a common view of the valley
reveals that really there is nothing to see
that could not have been seen
with eyes closed
but still it is high up
it is the air that lives and not us
it is the path that remains when we depart
it is not about us at all
it is not about the view
but what is viewing us
and suddenly everything smells like onions
everything tastes salty

RUMBLE RUMBLE ROLL / stumble stumble soul

remove your shoes and wade in
you're not a change
so wash your face boy
splash some of this hope on yourself
and crawl back to your city where you can do some damage
where your shoes are necessary
and your voice is small
unheard
unvoiced
remove yourself from here at once

griever.

umm the inner universal,
collecting all that we are.
boom boom it aint much, boom boom you can't touch me
if i'm a star, and i am free,
collecting pieces of the sea.
umm umm you're just a chapter now
of something i could write.
but i won't, you could ask but don't.
some day you just might.
we're unpredictable.
some day you might call me up and scream,
and i will understand.
umm yes i think i will understand
that moments are collecting.

-------------

- what's your name?
- Griever.
- you're a lion?
- what's a lion?
- ... it's what you are. at least it's what you look like.
- i don't know what a lion looks like.
- okay, then what are you?
- not sure what you'd call me...
- why are you here?
- i'm here for you.
- what? like a guardian angel or something?
- i don't know what that is.
- well, what DO you know?
- i know you. i know everything about you.
- cool.
- no. not so cool, actually.
- why are you so serious?
- because someone, something... is coming to get you.
- what?
- not sure what you'd call them.
- why do they want me?
- i don't know.
- okay... but you're going to protect me?
- i'm going to try. but the odds aren't with us.
- when are they ever?
- right.

------------

the fine art of falling apart

a time of darkness,
you will look absurd and you will feel inert.
and you'll go looking to blame somebody.
you see, i used to think i'd get over everything,
but everything just got over me.

matthew good

xcrpt

Thoughts overwhelm me, presented with things I am unsure of. Blurry faces that I may have known at some point. And now I am seven years old with grass-stained knees. This is a memory. This is something familiar. I’m steaming mad because I buried an acorn in the front yard, thinking that an oak tree would spring from the ground, and my mom told me that it wouldn’t. She said that you can’t just stick something in dirt and expect it to grow. Trees are delicate. I give up and forget about my oak tree. Reality wakens me again. There is a photo on the wall of a beautiful girl. She wears an expression of pride, but with eyes that reveal her uncertainty. Only it can’t be a photograph because she’s moving. She turns her head and her hair drapes her eyes… and then she tilts her head back and smiles a shy smile. And I am no longer sure whether I am awake or asleep…

0

I have something to say.
nah, fuck it. It's nothing.

the great escape, there isn't.

unwarranted beliefs
+
unwelcome passions
+
an eagle that speaks
+
yesterday's fashions
+
unreachable peaks
+
uninhabitable mansions
=
i dunno

...................

- i don't want you to worry about me.
- i know. but sometimes i do.
- you really don't have to.
- you don't talk anymore.
- yes i do.
- no, you've gone quiet.
- i just don't have that much to say.
- you know your uncle took his own life, right? dad's brother, one of your namesakes. he was young and dad doesn't talk about it very much.
- he never talks about it. but i know.
- okay.
- mom, really? you should know me better than that.
- doesn't matter how well i know you. the you i know is just a little guy, banging on empty coffee tins, pretending they are drums, refusing to quiet down. and now you're all grown up and distant and don't live close by anymore. so if i think that you're sad, i get sad... and i worry.
- i love you, mom.

...................

- just call me Beats.
- Beats for what?
- Beats for the soul, the future, the goal. unwinding, untrying, still grinding that coal, revitalize, re-emphasize, re-strategize...
- re-strategize for what?
- fow these new plains, new days, scattered brains in a modern maze of our making. pre-dating, semi-creating, debating...
- debating what?
- debating everything. the songs we sing, the love we bring, or don't, to our world, for young boys and girls who don't have a chance. we've destroyed chance. all that's left is to dance...
- what dance?
- the dance of blame. no, it wasn't us, not me. nothing we could have done, just wanted to be free. all throughout history, acting silly, and our present will seem funny, in the future to those who survive this...
- survive what?
- this.

...........

- don't talk to me about positive.
- what do you mean?
- positive thinking. this and that. positive attitude.
- yeah? what about it?
- just shut up about your positive. your optimistic. your proactive behaviour. i'm so sick of hearing about it.
- you're going to eat yourself, you're always so negative.
- it's not me that's negative. it's everything around me. this world and this day in day out. this passing of time is negative. always reducing, subtracting. never adding up to anything.
- you need to get away.
- how do you get away from yourself?
- a cruise or something.
- don't you fucking see? there is no getting away anymore.

tired eyes sad eyes and burning that causes me to rub them out.

UNCONSCIENCE / UNBOLD / subconscious / untold

do not let go of my hand, for i am
swept away without you, and i am
always in myself, and i am
alive for you, and i am
dying slow, and i am
in love.

BOUNDING FROM TABLE TO CHAIR TO COUNTER TO STAIRS ON TO MY BACK AND ROLLING OUT THE BACK DOOR OF THIS HOME

CLAIM ME CLAIM ME CLAIM ME I AM HERE

this internet is a funny thing that seemingly keeps us connected. when in truth i would need your cheek beside mine for you to hear me and understand what i am trying to do. i would need to hold you and remember you, have you remember me. and that would not be fake like this. that would not be difficult.

SHELFLIFE / TOO LONG / health life / a quiet song

your eyes betray you and say the words you thought you had destroyed. you are shaking.

5

there was always an epic beat in my head. i could hear it fall from the trees, off the hills, riding the air fearlessly. i could feel it in my legs, my knees and thighs discovering rhythm... and in my chest. always in my chest. a thumping that calls you out and builds you up. once it gets rolling it doesn't stop. it attaches itself to your very being. all i would feel was my heart destroying its frame, and the next pounding stride towards nowhere, and i would keep on rolling because i didn't have any choice. i had to run further.

:

- how bout we start over?
- how?
- i dunno. we'll just start over. begin again.
- okay...umm.
- let me.
- okay.
- hi... i'm tommy. what's your name?
- kim.
- ... what are you doing out here?
- waiting for it to snow.
- you think it's gonna snow?
- oh, most definitely. look at the sky.
- you might be right. where are you from?
- hamilton.
- cool... have you ever thought about killing yourself?
- ... tom.
- what?
- is that relevant?
- very.
- you know the answer already.
- no i don't. we just met.
- alright. the answer is yes.
- and...
- ummm, yes i've done that, but i don't anymore. it was a long time ago.
- oh, that's good. i'm glad.
- me too.
- well, it's nice to meet you then.
- i don't deserve a second chance, tom.
- everyone deserves a second chance. the only problem is you're up to four or five.
- yeah.

--------------

- we're going to hell in a handbasket.
- what's a handbasket?
- not sure, but it's cozy, and warm... and we like it in there.
- really? even if we're going to hell?
- maybe it's more like a passenger jet.
- what is?
- we're going to hell in a huge airplane. super fast.
- i don't like flying.
- i know you don't. but this flight isn't optional. we're all going.
- can i sit with you?

january and rainy days and floods

i stand in the rain.
wash me away- disassemble me.
like sand castles in the waves,
slowly deteriorating,
and the footprints that head off down the beach.
rain, eat me for breakfast,
and see how i breathe.

------

open up your door and welcome in the flood.
because no one will believe you.
none will understand.

4

I am a cloud hanging effortlessly, or so it seems, in an unopened sky. The perfect observer, an innocent bystander. Meaningless migration from one horizon to the next. And now I am raining. Thick, heavy drops that become oceans on the earth. Kids splash in me, lovers swim in me. They remove their clothes and see each other with wide eyes, exposing themselves. Suddenly I am a pelican, rising and diving into salty pools to get fish. I have no fish in my mouth, though. Pelicans don’t have mouths. But I have a mouth… because I am a person. A human being. Just a regular boy. I don’t know what I was thinking just then. I wasn’t thinking, because that’s what you do when you’re trying to fall asleep, you stop thinking. And then strange things happen because there is no such thing as not thinking. You can’t turn yourself off, just hope for sleep to get the better of you when you let your guard down. But sleep won’t take me tonight. And that’s all I want, for this day to be over so I can wake up tomorrow and try again. And the longer I lie awake the more frustrated I become. Maybe I am the sea after all.

3

The buildings enfold our park. All alike in height and shape, all brown. The diamond is familiar to us, and friendly. It is our territory to defend, gravel scattered with sunflower seed shells. Our hands clutch the chain link fences with excitement. There is a coming and going of spectators. Some I know, they might call my name and wave from on top of their hill. And others I don’t recognize. They call other names.
It is hot. The air becomes still on summer days in the city, afraid to move. It makes us afraid to move, humidity drenching our foreheads, concrete absorbing the heat and firing it up towards us. There is nowhere to hide. We silly baseball players, dressed in layers, pants to prevent disfiguration to the knees, claustrophobic in the sun’s rays. I might let go of the fence for a moment, place some ice under my hat, and return to the constant shouting of my team. But I won’t look at the sun. I won’t acknowledge it, for fear of going blind. We just anticipate the next pitch, ignoring the ongoing discomfort of our summer.

coward

so that when we are surrounded on all sides by darkness
and wrapped up in questions like,
"why?" and "how do we fix this?"
you will still have a love deep within you that cannot be tamed.
although it may be difficult to locate.
and i will say something like,
"we are out of practice." or "i'm not in love with our world."
"not with myself, not with most people that i encounter,
but a few that pierce me, like you,
with a strange and everlasting quality.
and that will always remain."
so that our faces will burn in fever
when that inevitable darkness finds us.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

i want to wear my heartbreak with pride.
you can't take my loveless from me.
-------you can't take my late nights.
--------------so let me have them.
just take a sip of my hot chocolate,
(that was a giant sip)
and let me be with my meaningless dreams.
----------creative self-destruction?
-----nah, just creative.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,

broom. zoom. now my kitchen floor is clean.
peanuts with chocolate milk.
changing. up-staging...arranging ourselves.
re-arrange the couches
and suddenly that wall talks.
it's never spoken before, and man how excited it is.
so i fell asleep in a different living room
and dreamed of a boy and a window
that looked out onto nothing.
and i woke up to find peanuts all over my clothes.
damn. not again.
get serious for a second.

,,,,,,,,,

iamcomingthroughthefog
andiseeyourunningaway
coward
stayandfacemestayanddiscuss
themanytimesthatyouhaverun
andthemanytimesthatareyettocome
coward

k ready to go now.

oh just be.
and then we will all depart together
into salty waters and touching skin.
we will be reborn with young hope,
the days turning back to greet us.
our past mistakes displayed and destroyed,
offered to Oxygen with most sincere apologies...
and as ourselves,
we will laugh and drink and plan
for tomorrow.
together.

breathe shallow

introductions necessary
because none of you know me.
and yet i stand before you, speaking...
"what a bother" you think.
"i wish this guy would shut the fuck up".
so where do i start?
my name? my name is tommy.
like the rock opera... only quieter.
there. did that change anything?
just a word... labeling nothing.
or do you know me now?

---------

we are in the halls.
striding past the truth.

--------

fast forward_
shimmy shimmy shimmy shimmy
shimmy shimmy shimmy
shimmy
break__
word. true that.
i'm tired___

-------------------------

FOR THOSE WHO ARE SICK WITH LOVE- TAKE SHALLOW BREATHS

2

here's something i've learned about myself, and i'm not sure if i like it or not. i use emotion, i let it control me. i write the same way as i run... from the guts, and from the heart. you can't teach someone how to live life with heart. probably just as well, because it can become a handicap.

in a carnivorous world, the strong remain disconnected... whereas i invest myself in small things. in other people. it's a weakness to rely on emotion.

1

a result of my inability to explain myself. explain how i feel... how i work on the inside. a painful inability to put things into words. you want to describe how your thoughts work, and why they are important, but when you try... it just rolls out in the terms of everything that has gone in, been put into you... influenced you throughout your life. and those are not your terms. it's frustrating when you can't explain yourself effectively. limiting.

i could have changed the world. someone just like me will... i have no doubt of this. they do... they are trying every day. if applied properly, i could have done something of meaning. i could be a hero, an icon... maybe it's not too late. you can do anything that you want to, they tell you.

maybe that's the problem with me, that i don't want to do anything. i'm so proficient at wasting time. but i'm smart... and i learn fast. so how come i remain so indifferent? passive. where is my sense of urgency to change the world? to do something meaningful... to rise to a challenge. where is my motivation to be the man i could be? no one is shooting at me... maybe that's the problem.

for tara on her birthday

what's one more year?
we're so blurry, you and i.
when you wake, rise in the mornings...
do you ever really wake?
and for that matter, do you ever rest?
we are losing sleep, and with it, dreams,
and we forget things that should never be forgotten.
small things.

well, i've been up there. to the north.
to forgotten land. untouched by hands like ours.
seen the devastated blocks of our province.
clear-cut. devoured.
and the swamps that remain.
cemeteries of hope.
hope that we shove back in to the earth
in the form of ten cent saplings,
over and over in futility.
i walked off the land aware of the possibility
that no one will walk where i just walked
for a hundred years... if ever.

and i thought of you. many times.
hours every day.
how our tragedies develop rings within them.
rings of knowledge. sadness, what have you.
how we grow roots but they don't dig deep.
they don't hold on tight.
because we know we will have to tear them up
sooner or later, and they sense our indifference.
and i thought of friendship.

and now i think of how one day
we will be discovered, the way we truly are.
hiding.
men will come and mark us... with x's.
like the trees by the river,
we will sit and wait our turn.
and eventually we will be cut.
and as they do it they will find your rings.
and then they will know heartbreak,
the humour and leadership you embodied
will become evident...
the happiness.
they will learn from you as i have.
and they might say 'happy birthday'
as they saw our tiny existence into chunks,
and hand them over to history.

but know that i would be proud
to fall alongside you,
the same way we have risen.
because that is what friends do.
and in the mornings, even if i never truly wake,
i feel our roots touching,
becoming entangled
underneath the concrete we live on.

bzz.

zip. you've stung me.
you are a bee... not bumble...
and i am a soft-skinned,
chubby little kid,
with grass-stained knees
and squishy arms,
perfect for stinging...
and you got me.

cheers.

to the end of the line. to you. come on, fall apart with me. what? i can't hear you. hey look! panda!

psha.

- how did you like it?
- which one?
- the museum of modern art.
- oh, it was good... we spent several hours there.
- i could have spent an entire day there.
- i don't know... after a certain length of time, standing in front of art... walking around... art, proclaimed and recognized, staring so deliberately... after a while it becomes meaningless. all of it.
- really?
- i go numb... i daze out. it all blurs together.
- maybe you were tired. you're always tired.
- no, if anything i was too awake... wide awake.

.............

- i walked by your house the other night.
- what? when?
- i don't know. a little while ago.
- why didn't you stop by?
- it was late.
- how late... i would've been up...
- nah... it was really late.
- well, whatever.
- i thought about calling to see if you were awake, but i was pretty drunk. and paul was with me.
- oh.
- we were kind of stumbling home. i led us on to your street.
- haha. why?
- to show him.
- show him what?
- i think i said something like, "you see that house? that's where the most beautiful girl lives... right there." or something like that. it was stupid.
- that's funny.
- ... why is it funny?

[x]

our bodies are not ours.
wet,
you rain on to me,
completely in control.
your hands bending me
towards you.
... and then i feel you.
feel nothing just for a second.
only moisture,
where before there was just desert.
sand dunes and sun
and me walking in them.
you have come in to the frame,
onto my stomach.
and will never disappear
from the darknesses of my mind.
at night
with eyes closed,
and thoughts clear,
your hands are still moving on me,
my mouth
still searching for yours.
and i know that my body is not mine,
but half
of an entwined figure
from my dreams,
rising and falling
gently
in a careless passion
that we named love.

newyear

if you want a piece of me...
you know where to find me.

[just ask]