ace mars lest july
you stayed up late, i went to bed.
you were set back, i was resting my head.
giving or taking, whose side will break in – fortress of unjust living.
thinking and acting, different sides of the coin – action withstanding.
if hearts make amends, then what happens when hearts die?
my hearts on the mend, so go fly – off.
capture me now (while i still have my youth)
let the light shine on me
illuminate the angles and shapes i compose.
remember my voice and commit it to memory.
let my words carry on in strength (before they become entangled in weakness)
my skin will tighten and slice with ease.
blood pumping to keep my heart beating (as long as it can)
as my eyes seek to escape this decay
my mind will let go of its grounds
i will lose control.
i dare not judge those that choose to continue.
plastered with contempt across their face.
i fear the days that will change me.
i will succumb to the disease (it will take me)
all in good time.
it played on a radio down the street.
tales of robbers, gangster and thieves.
and as we hand cuffed our plastic super-heroes.
the voice of your mother echoed through alleyways.
so we ran and flayed through the abandoned paths.
her voice beckoned of reason and wealth.
with every know word, a proposition was made.
like a 60’s record she played.
and skipped with fits of joy.
as your old man sat in his chair.
rocking and smoking his pipe.
barking commands like a drill sergeant.
telling us about the cold war.
i remember the look on his face.
it was the same as it was when he was laid to rest.
the brightest thing that day, despite the rain.
we visited time after time.
and the radio just wants to get me to buy.
the thieves are all petty and the gangster all flakes.
our old time heroes sell out.
your mother can’t breathe on her own.
our arms ache of the daily toll.
stolen ipods for cheap.
but his face.
and his stories.
keep us alive.
so we look out to the streets.
with every waking moment, i breathe deep.
the last words ill ever say are, “we are destined for nothing, but relief”
I didn’t cry
the day my grandfather died
I held back tears
succumbed to my fears
and I just hid away
you know a man so great
just went so late
they took him without pain
they sent him all the same
I still miss him time again
just a lick and a promise
an old college try
all he asked of me
so I did my best
put aside my lack of strength
bite my tongue
and hoped it’d go great
they told me he would be proud
of where I was and how I had found
true love
happiness
all of the good above
but I knew he wouldn’t care
he’d just want to take it in
just stare
cause the world is a place
that has sin and disgrace
but there’s the few bits of light we find
and I hope that’s where he went
when he took the time to sit
and admire everything around
yeah I guess it might sound sad
and I’m sure things can get bad
but at least I knew him
till the last bit of time
the last breath
she ripped through two cigarettes before donning an expression of realization that she had just inhaled the last bit of smoke she’ll have for the next ten minutes.
“we should go grab a drink, stop and get some more smokes too.” she said slow patting her pockets in her light jacket.
“i don’t really drink much anymore – and i only smoked with my uncle on his deathbed.”
She smirked and looked me over and slowly shook her head back and forth.
“i forgot how much fun you were, you party animal.” she joked.
i nodded and motioned my head down the road, she smiled and put her head down as we began walking.
“so how long are you in town for animal?”
I let out a sighed laugh, “only for a few days. i have to tie up some lose ends and then i’m leaving this town again. hopefully for good this time.”
“you don’t want to come visit me next year and confess your undying love to me?” she put her hands over her heart and smiled like the devil.
“i’ll have to check my calendar – but i’m quite sure i’ll be busy. not that i don’t enjoy these engaging conversations we have.”
as we walked down the street, the bookstore now far off in the distance behind us, a cold pink neon shone across the street side.
the small corner shop had been there since my father was a boy. my sister delivered the local newspaper for years to the store and was quite acquainted with the then shop owner – but it had changed hands several times over the past decade. my sister stopped deliveries in her fourth year after the owner was held up for the sixty two dollars he had in his cash drawer. my father decided my sister needed to have a safer part time job. he still sent me there for the odd item. i would run into a new shady patron every time, i just kept my head down and got out as quickly as possible.