My Half, Your Year

This isn’t love.

It’s not nostalgia.

It’s not even sadness;

It’s observation.

A day in the life,

A stamp on the letter,

A circled day on the calendar

Conveniently paired with another occasion

To mask the bigger meaning.

But then, it doesn’t mean anything,

At least not to you.

You weren’t the one who stayed up

Replaying bliss in your head

With that dopey smile screwed on,

Only to have it wrenched off

By the lovely assistant

You kept hidden during your magic act.

By rule of thumb,

Should not she be boxed and pierced by knives?

Though she must have been eventually,

As now I sit with her in the audience,

Watching your life in pictures

Because you never bothered

To say goodbye.

(In a year’s time.)

It’s still not love.

Still not nostalgia.

It’s not regret.

It’s merely a memory

That I have the misfortune to keep.

It’s karma,

Sealed with a kiss.

Oblivion

Blurred faces,
Muffled tears,
Empty spaces,
Silent fears.

Since when is
Ignorance the face of
Wisdom?

Forget her childhood, shrouded
By the inexorable
Folly of a once-respectable
Buffoon.

Disregard her adolescence,
Fragmented by the essence
Of ethanol so very
Bitter, but deludingly sweet
To some.

But never, ever turn your
Back
On the sobbing,
The pain,
Her agony,
That she so valiantly
Casts into the shadows.

You don’t deserve that
Luxury.
Not now, not ever.
You, who promised to be
Concrete, in a whirlwind of
Disastrous proportions;
You, who were to be an
Angel, now possessed by
Disease-ridden darkness.

Oblivion is no place for an innocent soul.
Bring yourself to light,
To health,
To sanity.
Bring yourself to her side.

Is that so hard?

My Prison

Lying in silence, I wait.
Whispering half-truths, unspoken stories
Swirl in my head.
All is dead.
The books have been read.
And all that could have been said
Has fled.

Face buried in echoing pain,
I rise to agony,
A ride of my own routine,
A self-provided prison.

Now
I hear the laughter of children.
I gaze longingly through bars,
Loosely gripping those iron barriers.
They are running,
Running nowhere,
Without guidance, without direction,
Without care.

My heart aches as she giggles,
The youngest, hardly perceiving the grass between her toes,
The sunlight on her skin.
She is smiling.
Now, the children,
Like a pack of wolves on the hunt,
Strategize their next mission
And fly far away.

Oh, how I long for those days!
Ignorance abound,
Sweet, pure gaiety all around.
They see a rock
It becomes their toy,
something to throw,
nothing to know.

I see a rock,
And the elders frown
When I hold it at that certain angle
And exclaim its beauty, its smooth features,
Rounded by the sands of time.

For the wicked age of thought and reason
Has snatched my ability to love.

For all is dark, in this shadowed prison,
As I turn, shuffling to the center of my empty heart.

The Well's End

I fear this is the end.
It's all over now.
Girls will cry,
Guys will too, though they won't admit it.
I cried, my tears soft streams
Of impulsive waterfalls
Dampening my cheeks,
My lips, my chin,
Where each drop of my
Salty soul lept from my body,
Like each memory that ran
Across my reminiscing mind.

For I took a journey
Inside myself,
I found the well of my memories.
And I looked inside the well,
I looked and looked and then I fell,
Deep inside the well,
Where musingly I began to dwell
In thoughts so sad,
And others quite swell,
Yes long and happy did I dwell
Down there inside my well.

Until sadly, abruptly, regrettably
And infuriatingly,
I reached the end.
I struck the bottom of my well,
And some strange current,
Swift and unrelenting,
Carried me to the water's surface,
As my arms, too short, too weak,
Reached out to grasp the muddy floor.

My head broke the flimsy surface
As I gasped for air,
Wishing, wanting to be back down there,
Breathless and still,
Subconsciously aware of
My life in full,
Everything for which I once cared,
And loved.
And I cried.

But I suppose this well is
Still half empty;
Perhaps it's alright, or even necessary,
To pour more water-memories down to
My aquiferous mind.

But still I think, and I believe rightly so,
That an end now would be so,
So much easier,
So less filled with pain.

Whole Again

Lyrics to a song that's going to be played at Main Library's Battle of the Bands. You should check Alex's Compromise out, June 25th at 1, yo.

Verse 1

If you can look the other way, maybe I’ll point it out

Turn your head and make you face your brokenness

Taking all that’s suffocated,

Blasphemized and hated,

Tell me how can you ignore

The emptiness you hide.

Chorus

So breathe, (breathe!)

Open your eyes (open)

The encompassing brilliance

Of freedom and forgiveness.

All the wrongs (hurting!)

ever been done (to you)

And all the lies ever spun

Will fade out, (fade out)

And you will be [free].

Verse 2

Everyone’s searching In all the wrong places,

you can’t deny Nothing is ever enough.

Everything is too much to handle

There’s an echo in the darkness

Shadowing all your mistakes

Don’t be afraid, just let it go

You will be delivered.

Bridge

I won’t criticize the way you live your life (scream)

But if you stand and fight the feeling

Of a haunting silence in your soul

Then I will try to save you(scream)

From your own blackhole. (scream)

One Hazy Step

The leaves are changing
But Spring's long since passed
And nothing seems to be in its place.
The sun won't shine, though it is there-
A perfect sphere of orange enmity,
Protruding with hesitance
Through a foggy haze.
It looks as if the source of life is
Rather burning all we know,
Burning all we ever wanted.

And there's a boy in search of
Something else.
He knows not where to find it,
Or how to find it,
If he'll find it.
Yet he proceeds onward with
The advice entrusted to him
By his father.

Each step is a mark of progress,
Another license to further explore,
But remember that it is only possible
With the step that came before.

Fault of a Drama Queen

We stroll along, hand in hand, during the blue, lively night.

We flow through time, breathing in the neon and jazz of the city.

Our love escalates to the heights of the tallest skyscraper,

Though, when the city is smoky, we are a sight to pity.

I drag you with a sudden rush of anger into a dark alley,

Where the bums and scum of the earth thrive; hidden to the extreme.

There, I grow into a rage-filled beast; it’s time for your finale.

Thus, with my claws I scrape your skin raw just to hear you scream.

But, you see, this is just your overdramatic misconception.

I have to turn your head so you can see in the right direction.

What really happened on that so called ‘dreadful’ night?

Excitedly, I grabbed your hand and started running to the store,

but, as we sprinted around the corner, you met your plight;

you fell, slamming the concrete, resulting in scrapes galore.

But, I didn’t understand why with this despicable blame

you were stabbing me in the heart -- what a shame...

It’s true you had warned for us to halt from our running,

because you truly cared so dearly about the safety of me.

But, with our feet down the sidewalk we kept on gunning.

The act of waiting imprisons us with boredom: Let’s be free.

No, I am not the one your finger of blame should choose,

for you are the one who forgot to tie your stinking shoes!