inspiration is cheap but only i can pay the price for what you need

for us love is spelt like impossible.

i miss falling asleep in the grass
and sunburns.
and the person who clicks right into their place in the world.
right between time
and the universe.
next to infinity
and light.
some time between when you're just starting to care about someone
and the time you finally let them know..
they run.
they always run.
i know it sounded so sheepish,
so juvenile, so seventh grade.
but it worked.
and it was as sincere as i could ever amount to being.
we didn't just break their boundaries
we pushed them down on their knees,
came, and kissed them off
and called once..
but never did again.
every day is weighted down with the idea that maybe everything will never be ok.
maybe this is as good as it gets.
until then fuck the perfect score, your paper soldier lives, your bullshit attitudes, your facades
and congratulations you've convinced me that your life is something that i'll never need
i'll be poor as dirt, living out of dumpsters and pissing in alleyways
before i get on my knees for your bullshit lives.
and i'll be dead but i'll have two middle fingers and a few more ounces of dignity
than you could ever buy or manufacture or bribe or wrap your noose around.
we've gotten used to eachothers bullshit
me and you are "it's alright"s vs "i hate you and everything you've ever liked, but you're all that i've got and i'm going to use the shit out of this until i find something better. i'm gonna leave you heartbroken and cheated and used. just like you make me feel this entire wasted time."

you should see me, i write myself to sleep
and sadly i feel like
all this > i will ever be

i try to keep sparks in my head and poetry on my fingers

walls, white. ceiling, black.
she's laying on the bed, half covered half not.
her glass of water is 2/3 full 1/3 empty.
the earth shakes and suffocates outside the window.
the wind wraps around trees like cars and the rain pours down out of the sky like the heavens were an open wound.
the beads of water rip through the japanese maple tree before hitting the window pane in a splash colored rosy red and if she tilted her head just right it was almost like the sky was bleeding.
headlights from the street below reflect in through the foggy windows and their shadows dance across the wall.
the earth gasps a few sporadic breaths and she thinks that if it were a person she would believe the wind was strong enough for them to come back to life.
she rolls over facing the wall, watching the shadows dance.
he walks in and the house shakes more violently than before.
he feels her cold hand in his and kneels besides the bed.
her eyes are open but she's not listening.
suddenly a blinding light is shining in through the windows and everything is still.
a few lightening bolts strike in the distance and few rumbles of thunder roll across the valley. but it's too far away to tell.
the earth falls into a slumber and it's breathing settles.
the rain gathers itself in the streets and streams down the sidewalks leaving a pink stain behind.
he reluctantly leads her cold hand to the window.
he peers out and she peers out.
much like the sky needs to stitch itself up (action), a heart needs to be broken (reaction).
with the collaborated sound of all things holy and unholy, a mess of bark and wood and branches and leaves crashes through the second floor of the house and stops, landing inches away from where he glances and where she glances.
suddenly the linoleum is turning green and sprouts into growing grass.
a field of wild flowers and tall grass grow out of the floor.
a few short saplings are speckled throughout.
she tentatively touches her fingers to the newly afflicted scrape on the side of his face.
the blood is on her hands.
she places her fingers against the window pane and paints it red in circles.
the warm substance causes the fog to turn to clear on the pane opposite her hand.
she sits on the tree in the room and has a nice view of the ouside.
"no.. not the sycamore." she says to herself. she shakes her head.
it was my favorite, she thinks, looking out into the once lush forrest that has become a ghost town of burning and fallen trees.
the light green grass tickles his bare feet as he leaves her room and the house.
he leaves her with her tree and walks out west, into the carbon monoxide induced beauty, but beauty nontheless, of the setting sun.

so there she sits.
bliss is both inside and outisde of the house.
blood is smeared on both sides of the window.

the storm has beaten the trees and the sunshine and the grass, but they've checked in and out of the hospital and taken up new residence inside the house.

and thus the war is brought home and his shoes are just outside her door.

from wide ruled journals, the back of hands and quick notes on napkins

no matter how hard we try,
it'll never be summer 03
but it can be equally as unforgettable.
there might not be lightening nights
or flag in the woods walks.
bright eyed innocence
or bug juice through the nose.
surely the grassy hills and soccer goals will miss us dearly.
we are for the heartbeats,
the hell, the hipbones.
whether we're in three feet of mud
or six feet underground.
sneaking out on the night,
running through enemy lines.
friending friends.
yellow flowers + blue fingers = prismatic sunrise.
even though the miles are just inches on a map,
they're too heavy for us..
but still my heart only beats because i met you.
our game of "i've never done this before.." vs "better now than never"
who lost who won
who cares is the one who lost
home is like hell only not as honest.
hopefully i can help you to forget
dark nights spent in backyards
and tracing sidewalks with tired shoes
measuring the sum of all things
wondering about stars and dust
how the universe stays in place
"dont live life waiting for your cue, get fired"
you are those things
and i am for you
its written out in our sleeves
memorize me, one day i just decided to lose track
(of the things i've done)

Cemete(a)ry (nothing worth spilling your latte over)

finding the bottle at the bottom of love
you dont know what was gone until youve got it back
i put me here
all me
all my stupidity
all my mistakes
im all messed up thats nothing new
how would you know
you wouldn’t
some sass and a few adjectives
saying shut your narcasistic (boSsy, ignorAnt, uNgratEful, selfish) mouth.
fuck your cookie cutter lives
fuck "whered you go" against "who you were then"
fuck you for hating the only part of me i like
fuck using love against friends
fuck your faith
fuck your futures