When you’re used to breaking the
sound barrier, 165 miles per hour is
a safe and prudent speed.
So, despite the wing mirrors folding
and the windows shaking in their frames,
with four hot wheels balanced on the
rainslick pavement on the highway,
everything seems like it’s going to be
alright. And even if everything goes
terribly wrong, it won’t be that way
for very long.

poured like rubber into a mould
stretched and sewn together
like pigskin
you

never fit their expectations
no one really wanted you to

Slowly,
I think I’m fading away
And what’s gone is being replaced.
Replaced by all the things
I feared I would become.
But what’s left of me,
What hasn’t faded yet,
It’s still in there somewhere,
Only powerless to get out.

writing crap and
getting kudos
spur of the moment
inspiration-free words
inspiring others
and then

hours and hours
broken hearts and tears
poured into a single story
five pages of your one true
opus
and hearing
23 “i dont get it”s
and only 1
“holy crap this was the most
brilliant thing i’ve ever read”

which would have been enough
if you had been an editor
instead of a mere classmate

tears fears and joys
you brought when you
made 3 into 4
and promised 18 more
years of
adjustment/joy/patience
waiting/enjoying/thanking

your every imperfection
mine

having lost their leaves
these trees stand bare
and bronchial
inverted lungs invisibly inhaling
radio waves and other
slow moving atmospheric
molecules.

At the thought of a day without Sieve
I found myself at a loss
As a “terms of service violation” page
Blocked my path
In the same way a solitary leaf
Would derail the ever persistent trek
Of a diligently harvesting ant
I too, could not bring myself to grasps
With such a dreadful concept.

there’s no good reason you
can’t keep your whole life
in an aluminum can.

Mostly, things you can can
are really not worth canning,
while all the things you can’t can
need to be kept fresh in dry-
storage anyway.

But there’s still a few things that
need canning.

Make a bigger life,
get a bigger can.

the wind in my hair
sunburn on my neck
reminded me
i need more time with you
to be more like you
to finally know what
truly matters

My
Very
Excellent
Mother
Just
Served
Us
Narcotics

Some evenings after
songs are finished
ringing in my ears,
I tend to wander
towards the cafe
where the young hip
kids all sit and
smoke their
cigarettes, while always
asking questions that
mean nothing, though they
like to keep pretending
that they’re learning more
about themselves and every
other thing around them,
painting up a better picture,
just so they can finally
sleep at night, But
I know better. With
the songs not finished
ringing in my ears,
the whole damn world is
crystal-clear.

the barometric pressure
(whatever that means)
causes not acne
as much as heartache
as it brings in rains
or lack thereof
and fails to wash away
your sins

no good reason to
sit this one out, it seems
all of the time spent
on spending our money
has caused us to greatly
underestimate many
values determined by
supply
and
demand,
though all of the spending
leaves everyone feeling quite
spent.
God,
Damn it, why is life
so sweet at 3.a.m, yet
so sour at seven?

I’ve been spending a lot of time with someone
spending a lot of time with someone, late while
all the rest of us have run on off to sleep,
and while histories and jokes abound, I
can not help but fight the thought of feelings
moving upward, though they linger just beneath.

And in some respects I feel a baby sitter,
and in others, I must be the third wheel,
though there’s always four of us, all things considered
And anyway, what the fuck do we just
sit around for?

you’re beautiful
you’re wonderful
and everything i hoped for
small complications
with long drawn out
solutions

oh and
i forgot how crappin
little sleep i get