blasphemic provocation

my flowers are dying and my bookshelf reminds me of everything i might have to give up.

i've been all talk and no submission, i've been all mind and no provocation.
i speak blasphemy from my pedestal and once believed i was invincible.

this is the real world, honey.

sleepless words

i wore grandma's beads and took a deep breath. it was for her. weeks of sleepless days and nights and it came down to that. there were hours of driving and flowers and sometimes i forget how lucky i am. a night like this reminds me who's there, who really understands. my life is motivated by words, but sometimes they're really not enough.

i'm not

There's flowers and paper and missed calls and books and wind and she's there and I'm not.

the midnight thoughts

What is it that encourages us to explore the world? Why is it that it takes drastic change in setting to change us? We neglect to find depth in the places that are familiar to us; we use those places for comfort and refuge and nostalgia, but we don't have the capacity to see past our preconceived notions of them. Why is that? Can we gain objectivity without physically stepping back? Do we have to see new things in order to understand what we have?

I've always been fascinated with the world; I used to draw my dreams on maps with black sharpies. When I travel, I'm opened up to these new injustices, new ideas, new opportunities -- to me, it always seemed so glamorous to take on the world and stand for something.

Going to church this morning didn't necessarily enlighten me to a renewed Christian lifestyle, but it made me realize that it's people like that, the people that sit in the pews every week and attend all the routine church events, are the people that can see the entire world inside a small town. They're the ones that understand the need for revolution and action in even the insignificant places. They don't dismiss any gradient of pain -- it all means something.

Can people change when they stand still?
Can people find themselves when they never look down?

What does it mean to change the world?

it's a lonely job

"I wanted to be a writer once. But I didn't work hard enough at it... it's a lonely job."
(I accidentally watched Lifetime today. But I got this quote so it's okay.)

Today I took a route to Burlington that I didn't know. I ate whole wheat pizza and bought green glass bowls and listened to a static-y radio station I've never heard. I was bitter in the morning about being abandoned, but I realized for the first time that I'll be ok. I've always known I could survive on my own, but I understood today that I can be happy.

I'm ready for the job.

there's a place

there's this place i belong to
where i walk barefoot on graves and swim in the dark and touch the honest world.
it's the place i'll never forget. it's the place i'll always return.

wild world

baby, it's a wild world. hold on tight or you'll lose your way.
baby, i can't fight your wars. hide a knife in your boot and breathe.
baby, it's been a long time.

baby, it's a wild world.

a storm like this

i've never seen a storm like this before. there's lightning every night and i can taste thunder in the mornings. the clouds are purple and the sun is taking a break from the world. i'd live like this forever, inside the storm.

someday

someday i will ask you if i was a disappointment.

books and a water glass

i spent my entire paycheck on books and organic tea and drinks last night. i found calvino and monroe and others. or maybe they found me.
we met by the flower shop and walked the streets at midnight. i put my last two crumpled dollars under my water glass.
i have two dimes, some pennies, and a bunch of british coins in my wallet. but there are six new books on my shelf and i'm happy.

Your green-eyed girl

turn around and look at me. i'm seven letters and a smile, i'm your green-eyed past, your blonde-haired girl.

4 am summer

day four and i've gotten used to missing you. i'm learning to ignore the pain in my stomach and constriction in my chest: it's a part of me now. you're a part of me now.
it's my summer morning. 4 am just like i always told you. it's my time and you're not here. you're in baltimore where there is no 4 am light and no thunder air.

not like there is here.

i wish i could have you forever

"i wish i could have you forever."

sequence still sparkles when the sun goes down. sunglasses are glamour and glitter is magic. they sing from the porch; be strong, be strong. the beach is caught in their tangled hair and the salt is in their skin. blanket laughter and bedtime secrets and eyelashes dusting cheeks.

i wish i could have you forever, just like this.

spray paint memories

it wasn't the kind of day for a man to die.

spray paint on sidewalks, pictures in boxes, faded artist statements... you're inside it all.
they'll toast to you tonight. it's your memorial, boy.

piano in the river

these are the nights you remember, the ones with old friends and good music.

we sat on the hood of my car and talked about travel. under planets like fireflies, we talked about the world. we shared blankets and beer in the dark. we listened to piano and violin under the lamppost. small under the sky, our words fell into the river and we knew they meant something there; they'd been waiting to sink to the bottom and claim it. it's been seven years; the words are piling up. soon they'll reach the surface and everyone will know. everyone will know.

these are the nights you remember, the nights you remember why you're alive.

save pompeii

we found home that day.

we were the first to cherish those lost ruins, the only ones to feel the secret city beneath our feet. we were explorers. we were natives. we were friends.

we were heroes,
saving the city thousands of years too late.

lost affairs

.paint-stained denim and midnight walks and whispers into palms.
.2 a.m. coffee and secret ambitions and laughter stumbling into tomorrow.
.knotted ribbons and sporadic escapes and the inevitable returns.
.ocean afternoons and galaxy nights and storm mornings.
.kissing friends and dances with strangers and love affairs with art.
.passion under fingernails and music in pockets and just one reason to keep going.
.pebbles at windows and smoking at sunrise and goodbyes with closed eyes.

there are things we have to give up. cigarettes and alcohol and sugar and old friends. we always thought it'd be hardest to give up the bad habits. but no, it's you.
goodbye, old friends.

teach me

teach me how to kill and how to hate teach me how to destroy it all show me how to make love and how to die show me the sea on your doorstep tell me about candles and sand and castles and God tell me everything i don't want to hear

ink-stained sheets and melted snow

.i.

There's an old receipt in my pocket, from that road trip last summer. Sometimes I pretend it's a picture of you… I like to think I can carry you around with me. (You can live in my pocket if you want.)

.ii.

Sometimes I try to speak, but the words dissolve in my throat. I think the sea witch stole my voice. I bet she keeps it in a shell around her neck. I don't know what I traded for it, but I really hope it wasn't a prince.

.iii.

You want to sleep in the snow, but I can't let you. It's the kind that you'll fall asleep forever in; you'll never wake up. Stay with me, just for a little while. I can hear the snow melting outside, all the icicles have disappeared; it's almost over, stay with me, just for a little while longer, this winter is almost over.

.iv.

Ink-stained sheets and callused fingers. He died with a paint box by his side; I'll die with a pen in my hand. I'll put words in the Atlantic and wait for them on the other side; they'll be buried in the sand and I'll find them someday. Ink-stained sheets and callused fingers, it's only natural.

twothousandsix

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place i still call home (love)

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people i thought i knew (just forget)

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goodbyes i wasn't prepared for (gone forever)

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months i never want back (keep smiling)

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nights in the lake (naked under stars)

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of us will always be there (wait for summer)

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missed calls (can't forget)

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circles we walked at midnight (never got dizzy)

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months i've known you (surprise me)

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secrets i haven't told (not meant for you)

it'stheendoftheyear.