riding shotgun with the devil

stories of your life
have been glorified
in media headlines
family members cries
who are ignorant
to the truth
you can put the blame
on a weakened heart
but drugs and alcohol
probably did more harm
blowing off responsibility
hurting those close
with vicious words
even more ugly actions
beating a man close to death
prove an accurate worth
screaming so strong
but living so weak
they say you loved
they say you cared
your selfish acts
tell a different tale

even in death
you have them fooled
life of a man
worth no more
then a sad tune

too soon

i could try
but i know i’d never find
the words to tell you
how i truly feel
about you

if i lied
to get you to smile
i don’t think i could
ever be happy
with myself

turning over
pages of memories
none speak to me
the way you
seem to

lost the war
with my hands away
didn’t raise them
to defend myself
against you

i wouldn’t change
any of the ways
i acted against
you talking down
to me

if i lowered
myself to that level
i would have lost
much more now
than i ever had before

if the sun
keeps on rising
you can probably
find me hiding
on the east coast


waking up downtown
in someone else’s bed
to the noise of cans falling

looking out the window
to the street below
a homeless man collects
sampling last nights
leftover drinks and dines

the sun barely breaking
through the city landscape

i gather my belongings
careful not to wake you
whoever you are today
i remember who i met
under the influence

through two doors
a staircase that smells
of liquor and varnish
i finally depart

i walk further
down to the core
passing convenience stores
coffee shops, artisans
who are only now opening

a breeze comes
straight from the lake
passing complexes
highways and paths
invigorating the population

i check the train schedule
before grabbing a ticket
rushing to the platform
to head home in the west

i take my seat
by the window
looking out
over the water
feeling the breeze

fine print

we have less
in commom

then you let on in our initial talks

how you long for solitude
in the depths of forests

why i cry at the moon
during early morning tides

the seperate
hours of a clock

the ticking working with the tocking

winding up
old emotions

to linger on
justified responses

avoiding long talks
to influence resolutions

that sound simillar
but are farther apart

until we’re too weak to agree

when we should have given up shortly after we began

why we gazed into each other’s eyes in the first place

the signs were there, we just chose to ignore them

for a chance to be better versions of our tired selves

fellow feeling

i am foreign to you

my face is the same as before
just with years
striking my cheeks

my eyes still shine
when the sun reflects
against the blue

my hands have started to tremble
carrying the weight
of my old failures

my legs have grown weary
walking away
from homes i deserted

but im sure
in a crowd
you’d miss me

for once