after the storm

i hate that i chant your name
over and over and over again…
like a wave beating against the shores in perfect rhythm.
it whispers to me…
it invites me in.

i hate that i think of you
when i see everyone
when i feel like i’m not
who we want to be.

this is a terrible fate that i, like you, wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy

but then this should never have happened.
i am trapped
in emotions, in intensity, in love, and in shear
matter of fact.

but you are in a box.
stuck in a box i can’t even see; hidden.
and i’m on the outside. 
and i cannot get in.

how did this happen
my love?
was the sun always this dull?
it seems like it should be brighter up above.

did weeks always go by this quickly? i wonder…
were the days always this disorienting and
do you remember the thunder?
the lightning? the rain?
the rain the rain how we tried to use it wash away our pain.
instead i feel like it stained
a memory in me.
something i will carry around for what seems an eternity.
at least to me.

are you following me?
this is the storm i live in every day.
and i try to leave you be.
without me.
a life without gray.



this sick strange satellite,

i wish i could get off of it’s eternal flight,

and stop time, and find the moments that bind.

me. to you.


everything burns
the smoke in the back of my throat
as i exhale and my heart is on fire
and all i can see
all i can feel
is me
and you.

i can’t stop what this is
i can’t stop what this will be
i can’t.
i won’t.
i want it
i need it
i can taste it
i can taste you
i can be in you
i can be you
i can be me
i can.
i will.

the words you say to me
while we lead these lives in these places
these houses
these apartments
these rooms
these computers
these messages
these sentences
these words
this is it
this is mine.
this is yours.
this is ours.

time –
an enchanted melody
deliberately delivered off-tempo and out of key
out of agreement
but wanted like a favorite song
that reminds us that we still have so much more ability to feel
so much more to say and to be heard
so much more to give
so much that we want

i am addicted to this memory
and it hasn’t even begun


tick, tock
make your own clock.
the walls come up,
then fall, block by block.

today is fine.
tomorrow is too.
and yesterday beautiful,
(a memory of you)

i can’t help to feel this way
can’t help the bad waves
i wonder and wander and
shake off the daze

think about what could be
think about you
and us
and me
and wonder

and you and me and you (and me)
and my brain can’t help thinking about all the

but time
it’s not mine
it belongs to others that i cannot find

they take it from me.
they take it away.
they decide what comes. what goes. and what stays.

i try to break free and i listen and sigh,
and wonder what happens with a glance to the sky.

but the walls come up
they rise with great force
i tremble
as they surround me
and tear me off course
of course.

the walls they protect
and they comfort
and they see
that the person they hide
is far from what could be.

second hands

tick. tock.
why am i listening to this clock?
i remember this sound
as a boy
the sound of the clock on the wall
the sound of
the sound of my life reflecting on my life
tick. tock.

60 times a minute
3600 times an hour
86,400 times a day

for what?

why am i listening to time go by?
why am i listening to time
why am i listening
why am i

i could be singing
i could be loving
i could be living
i could be

but instead i’m stuck pondering
the complexities of other lives
and analysis of life
a life that cannot change
maybe a life that will not change
that fixates and centers
upon one

that nothing is forever
and everything is for now
and the more time we spend
thinking about forever
the less we have of now

so i ask again,
why am i listening to this clock?
and why am i not making my own noise?

quiet drama

the sun is out
old ladies are sitting across from my balcony
hanging their laundry
oblivious to the chaos going on only miles away

i once read about a lady in new york
she never left her apartment for 30 years
never had any guests
never talked to anyone
terrified of the world outside
can you imagine
never seeing the sun?

a red balloon floats past my head
it suspends itself for a moment
seeming to endlessly hover in the air
as if time stops
if only for a moment
it makes me believe
can i control time?
would that be my salvation?
would it be my demise?

breathing in. breathing out.
i want you out
or maybe i just want.

six thousand miles away from a red desert
purple lights
green eyes
yellow neon
and pink flamingo lamps
theres a blue river
and blue skies
but i cannot see past the other colors

my broken keys cannot open this apartment door
i knock and ask to be let in
and i count the seconds until then
in the dark
in this hallway
in this place
where i don’t recognize myself
and all i really want
is to see is the sun
and hang my laundry


sirens sounding
they pierce through the quiet of the city night
like a sharp knife through a piece of paper
that has your name on it
your words on it
our life in it

i stop for a minute and
listen closer to the sound then
my heart beats with
thoughts of you racing through
my distant memories turning into
blood dripping down my
chin as i bite my lip and remember
the sweet taste of being inside
our heads

i reach
for anything
but there is only what is
the same there was, and will be
and never will be
and never was
and i breathe deep
and try to let you out
and i breathe again.
and again.
and again.

time plays tricks in the dark
circles that sing play a melody to the
hardest parts of the soul to reach
a place where no one ever stays
and yet here i am
stuck bending the clock
backwards and over and
hold onto sand in the hourglass
as it slips through my fingers
and only gets faster

my ears still ringing
my heart still singing
my head still trying
and finding
and listening to the words
from you
and me
and us
and everyone
and no one
and the sirens fade
the streets are quiet
and night begins again