Sunday, April 4, 2010

we had dinner together.

hey dead scenery, make my life style
blessed pregnant windshields
I'll race you
yeah, my time travel agent
my screen savior
bring me back to the introduction so I can end the scene
trees flickering past like spokes on the rims of a dead exit
baby, I'm a ghost town
just walk right past me and pretend to not exist
inherent danger on the outside, and
just plain nothing everywhere
she called me an absolute breath of fresh air
but she was underwater
and god were my eyes heavy enough to sink a stage
cut and strangle my losses with garrote wire

she gets me!
and yet
she's a thousand miles away and married to a paperweight
chemistry is meant for classrooms, baby
this is my church


*Written in an empty lounge on a train travelling from Sanford, FL to Lorton, VA.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

baptism by fire.

you're the light that reflects off of the grit in my teeth
as I chew on the sand that lies underneath
I swear it's my mission to swallow this whole
the streets and the beach and my neighbor's souls

the clock hand has eyes and they cry for me
here it comes
pulling out individual hairs like a science project
I must be finished by now
so walk past me, I'll follow gravity
tense up for the impact
here it comes
soon I'll smell of grease, money and bitterness
and you'll just look like gold
and taste as old

in the bedroom of someone's home, who let me in?
wash my hands
you're all so much in love
it all ends
plug in, I've got one night and I'm not showering
soon I'll smell of whiskey and amnesia
and you'll still look like gold
and taste as old

concentrate, for the lesson is in the lanterns
that we light to lead the way
you, beautiful fuel
you're my worst navigator
never again will I let the darkness lead me astray
the light is the saboteur
a l'outrance

I hope you die of sunburn, my love