Lazy Lids

Wonder, but never

full. She told me

my soul was half empty.

Maybe like a shoe

should be. I never listen

but blinking in sync

gets tiresome every

third round. I think

she caught me, but

I never really think

anyway. What would

you do with your

slipping lids?

Pack Leader

Her toe curled thoughts
left whipped cream trails for
my huddled half mind
to reconsider.

Last Stand

Posture junkie:
see things the way they’re
meant to be heard.
Think out loud to
crack a window;
and accordingly heads hung
for eyes to seal fates, float
the password to Wind.
Discretionitory sensory deficiencies,
or maybe we just held our
collective breath in mind.

Bones

Feel it in my

headphone bones.

White like teeth.

LED stars

heal everything but

walls and laws.

Clipboard motives.

NY

High heel dreams dance her nights away
leaving her tired as we wake to waltzes,
boast our faults.

11:11

Words on fingertips
reach out, vowels craving
connections.
Our hearts are
stuck on consonants.

The Fraud (Anything)

I’m stilling fighting.
This time with myself instead of
for your guarded heart and chain link mind.
I wish it was real.
I wish I could send this way I feel away,
not have every thought echo in my head.
What if we were all that mattered?
Sometimes I would let my words settle
to sift through later,
and they were all that mattered because
when it came down to it we were all talk.
And even so, I wanted to be perfect for you.
I wish you didn’t still haunt my stars at night,
or maybe that I haunted yours.
Nobody said it would be easy, but
it’s supposed to be worth the war
and I fought damn hard just to end up
back where I started,
when all the while we could have been in love.

Strides

The blue birds would rather

sing the greens, and not for me.

Sometimes each note is a poem

escaping the depths of secrets

they swore they'd keep from me.

Vulgar vultures.

I'm sure they're catching wind of my

mind's complicated extrapolation,

but I've heard they're harmless anyway.

Aren't we something like natural enemies?

The Internet

I'm singing in my sleep again.

Dropping dead while I'm

dropping jaws, my audience

just isn't static enough to

hang around my neck.

Do I have a reputation yet?

I can only keep your heart

beating til my throat gives out.

It must be close to

a thousand years now,

and I found trouble first.

Where'd you leave the getaway car?

All this living in sin

is getting to my head.

VeggieTales

You’re hard
like apple cores,
I don’t want to
figure out just how far
this can go.
No one likes the seeds