Clear

The sky looks fake today

and something strange

hangs above the trees like

the words y'spoke to me.

Dazed like haze floating in and out

of my lungs: A struggle.

Following rooftops over buildings over

any real trees you might find in a

godforsaken desert city.

"Again: a goal."

Feel like I could float right through it and watch as

all the miniscule little schoolkids run home,

bogged down by the heavy load the air keeps

pressing down on their tiny little heads.

But I wouldn't last long and would

fall just like Icarus: Get burnt up hard while

falling through the sky.

And if you promise to recognize my melted skin

and face, then I promise whatever I need to

just to give my self a place to

come back to.

'Cause I'll be back once I'm done

flying through the sickly open fake skies,

waiting for the shirt on my back to burn up

like a message from the heavens,

like, "Maybe, just for now, I'll put you down."

Fallin'

What it boils down to is how this sickly air flows back and forth while we keep on swimming through it. And I'm not sure how far you'll get with such weak arms and such weak spirits, but if you push a little harder, it'll be less embarrassing when you finally hit the ground.

'Cause we've been waiting so god damn long

To watch you fall from your high horse,

Your watch post watching and watching and watching.

Watch out; the teams have changed and

Watch out; you've fallen hard and

Watch out; 'cause pretty soon we'll be looking down on you just watching and waiting for you to hit hard and just split that round skull of yours to pieces in the dirt and have the ground take back what it had put forth first.

But with the haze, the view won't be nearly as clear as the empty sky we've gotten so used to peering through. So watch your back, but not too hard, because although you'll fall soon we'll be choking on too many fumes to be worrying about what it is that you may be up to.

To them

I'm no one.

Outside

"I was just another book on the shelf, nothing else."

-Titus Andronicus

A sea of people flowing from end to end down the widest darkest street you ever saw and I was probably just one of them walking along waiting for a leaf or buckeye ball to fall out and hit me on the head to wake me up from what I figured was probably another dream. But that never came and so I walked with the sea and waved like the sea and fell like the sea and crashed like the sea and whhhoooooshed like the sea and worried like the sea and seemed like the sea. But as I was crashing and waving and rolling around on the street I realized the depth of the other sea people and realized how far from the ground and then maybe how far from inside and then maybe from the heads. And then I looked in the eyes of the ones in the other sea going the other way wondering what might be in their eyes and not mine. And I wanted to walk with them to maybe see what is in my eyes or the eyes of my other seamates which is my eyes and my own self as a seamate. Then I saw their mouths and decided to not walk with them against myself because if the two seas clashed and mixed like the Indian and the Atlantic at the tip of Africa then when I kissed their mouths I'd be made contagious with their new germs and the things I don't want to say but would anyway. And then I looked into their chests because without looking down at mine me di cuenta de que their chests were wide open and I could see what you'd call the heart or the throbber beating at my face with its blood and noticed that not all were as the same as were. And then I looked in their eyes and their hearts beat in and screamed and poured out and before I knew it my eyes poured out. And what made us different made us the same. And then me di cuenta de que I wouldn't find anyone different and similar to be with. And then I realized that I already found me in a mirror and from then on would keep my mirror for when I got lonely and needed someone to talk to in my pocket to always have me there with me because the only love I could find that wasn't distant was for myself. But then I realized that I lost that love ago and threw out and broke the mirror and no longer wanted the shards in my pocket to remember who I was and hopefully broke free from me and met the one in the other sea who was lookin' back at me and my open chest and my hovering and mouth and eyes and saw what I saw and thought back. And then I waited again.

All I Need

Voy a fumar hasta mis pulmones se mueren.

Me voy a emborrachar hasta mi barriga se muere.

No voy a dormir hasta yo muero.

I don't need the fuckin' sleep,

or the health,

or the health.

And I figure,

Could talk all night,

leave more butts on the ground,

carve more messages in the sand.

But I'll drink to your health,

while I waste out mine,

y rezaré por ti,

hasta recibas lo que quieres.

I'm all about watching you get what it is that you need.

Y todo que yo necesito,

es la fuma y la bebida,

and life will come right on time.

Getting Lost on Some Lonely Streets

The air sparks hard tonight and

While I waited for some comfort of some sort

from the air hovering around me,

I realized I'd lost myself again.

(And you can blame the red eyes on the allergies)

"My car is a murder weapon.

My windshield is an axe,

Spilling the life of insects all over it."

I'm fucking disgusting.

I can get lost on any street you pick for me,

even if I drove it before.

The days are shit,

the nights are worse,

and the more I leave to look around,

the more lost I get.

And every time I get back,

It's a new place,

new town

new people

new name

new face.

Lost.

On some desolate dark street

watching the people stare back at me on benches

wondering what the gasping noises are

coming from my mouth

and why my body keeps

shaking and shuddering

and won't fucking stop

until you tell me to calm down,

and hold me while I calm down,

and please make everything better.

Just wave your hand and change

everything around me

like you used to do for me

any time

any place.

Fucking hold me and tell me

You'll be with me soon

because I can't fucking stand to

be alone for this long.

Wasting and Titus

Blame it on allergies,

or things stuck in my eyes,

like the countless bugs I've

been encountering practically

every time that I leave my room

for a smoke or a walk or a breath

of something outside.

My eyes are red from what I've been

watching happen as I drift between

consciences and different states in my

head. And I won't stop thinking about

my dreams. And my allergies are real

enough to make you think its just the

pests hanging in the air, waiting for me.

Because at least someone's waiting for me.

And I heard Titus sing to me,

"So I'm saying goodbye, and no, I won't forget to write. It's just been too long racing towards a yellow light, and I know that I say this every night, but I don't think I've ever been so tired of life."

And finding new places and wasting more gas

was supposed to help me find me in places I'd

enjoy more than empty trees and half-suns in

the skies but I'm already tired from not sleeping

each night and I've got to wonder just how long

Just how long it might be before something

finally comes.

Floating

Familiar songs start

like arriving home.

And a fresh breath of air.

Wind in grass in air float high

float high

float high.

Like bells ringing or birds singing

or rain clouds letting up.

Or just for today the

sun wanted to shine for

you.

Para tiiiiii.

Cold cold cold flows through some

window cracked open like you

forgot all along that I'd

jump on through and be finally

there in front of you

to be what you want me to.

Driving

Look at the sky,

lonely colors shaking lonely stars hiding a lonely moon,

lonely streets,

lonely lights,

lonely buildings,

lonely squares,

lonely eyes- starin' at

lonely eyes- starin' at

Bright signs telling me to drive,

and drive,

until the gas tank's dry,

and broke down on the side

of the road while I

watch the rest of the lights

pass by and by,

starin' at- lonely eyes,

staring back as they drive.

Gonna sit and watch all night while the sun cycles and moon cycles sync

And hope I'm not still there when I wake up.

Something new

Do fish dream of larger bodies of water?

"My life is dull and my body aches."

Ink spreads like a wildfire, lines running across the page like sparks in the brush.

"This blood in my mouth makes me hate how we both end up."

And swim and swim like you'll try to escape into something a little more warm, screaming, "!קר לי"

Or run and run like you'll try to duck down and watch the flames pass like something a little more cool like, "!חם לי"

You'll find a bigger ocean or some new trees some day.