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I watched for love in your eyes

like a hawk hunting for a field-mouse

in a mile-high thunderstorm.

What more can I say than that?
We dreamed a little dream together
fought wars in our ways
and drove each other mad really truly mad,
in a very scary, indeterminate, unresolved way

and I can't come to terms with that
without having a lot of faith built up around love
crumble some.  That fragile sand holding it up
is no match for some real honesty sometimes.

That's all I want though.

Shit

We got a lot to talk about
about how I'm losing it
I'm losing that gracious ability
to listen to myself
to listen to that voice
that voice so caught up by other voices
that voice that says so much truth
but I can't hear it
I'm just listening and it's all static
nothing coming through
and I'm trying to get her back
trying to find my way back
through all this crap
all this ballsack dumbshit
crap that clouds and deviates
and avoids and tenses
Have I told you how bad
my senses are lately?
How I almost lost that good sense
of smell, couldn't taste, couldn't hear
couldn't care about much but what was in my head
and what wasn't.  I keep thinking to go to yoga
but I can't, I don't know but I can't
and my back hurts and my mind hurts
and I wake up and my jaw hurts
and I need some time
to take care of all this but life is getting in the way
and I can't let it
I'm chomping at the bit to get something out
but it won't come out there's only this shit
this shitty shitty shit
that is in the way right now
and I need to get up and write down all this shit in the morning
so my evenings and musings and acting all benefit
to get the shit out the way
and leave me in its place.

Genie Boy

Oh genie boy
to see into the future
must be a terrible thing

how can you be ok knowing what's going to happen?

you have seen every tragedy
every small evil
I've done and I'll do
and still you think I should see three wishes like the rest?

you've seen the cruelties to ants;
the cowardice of not speaking up;
the fear of being wrong;
the knowledge of how
but no will to bend the bow;

and you must say to yourself
this is evil

and i must see three wishes?

so i ask

what should i wish for?
like Aladdin, what should I wish for?

you don't answer, floating like blue ink
in a small glass of water
staring at me, waiting for me
to wish away myself like all the others.

i don't want your wish.
I wish to have no wishes.

and it is done and you are gone,
as fast as fog can roll in you were gone
like vapor and i am left
with nothing
but me
taking a first step into an uncoveted world.

Alternate Lyrics; "Fairytale of New York" by the Pogues

So we could sell ourselves

a piece of eden each

a sum of presence then

a time for us to preach

a world all on our own

a life to blog about

a dream of everything

of you and i could be

you've made your honest case

you've driven past the moon

we've already found our way

in this world of fools

oh how I love your dreams

your fine and dusty ways

all danced together like

some brilliant modern stage

a dream we made ourselves

a life to live away

time now to scream and shout

for it is Christmas Day.

Colitis

It's a constant reminder
a droning in your ear
of a mosquito squeaking closer
saying "Something isn't right"

and it's not until it is.
That's the issue; a hangover
of the past ten years
like rope out the window

of an abandoned hotel room.
Is it all just catching up with me
now?  What makes the wheel
turn and find me, to throw

this fire in my face after so long
without it?  The puzzle of myself
gets no clearer and whatever
new phase is happening

it is not comfortable yet.

Lenny

It is the first time
I have let him in

and in doing so,
can't let him go.

I saw him, first,
in my mind,

a simple angry man;
a criminal, a genius,

an emperor waiting
to be crowned;

found his tics,
his quirks, his charm,

his beauty, and set
them against her

and raged. Now
I can't let him go

Now he remains
with me, though

the melancholy
of loss invades

like gallons
of water dumped

into an empty
fish tank.

I will find him
among the small

stones someday
and tap on the glass

and the echo
among the deaf water

will wake him
like a zoo beast

entertaining a visitor.

Language is a Knife

Language is a knife
and we use it

sparingly, cutting small circles
in the thin curtain
hanging between us,

to reach small treasures
through and coax one another
into bed.