Writing

The further you scroll down this page, the more recent the work is…except for that weird section of 2005 smacked between

38. Incomplete. 2005

Winter’s cessation is almost coming to recognition,
And my friends melt away like snow.
It’s a matter of patience now, watching the sunlight steal my life again.
It’s a matter of time until the heat singes my skin.
Skimpy getups and bright green botany.
Crowds of people, a life that doesn’t market to me.
Florid colors and swimming pool commotion.
Bugs that bite equal summer-time dejection.
I’ve got my air-conditioner set to freeze,
I haven’t yet caught this humid-happy disease,
Of actually enjoying one hundred and one damned degrees.
I’m not putting my jacket away,

41. Incomplete. 2006

Clumsy with words, nimble with nothing by the slight of my hands.
Cold with the grief left behind by an open window,
Waiting on water to boil, as the amounting bubbles make up for a lack of company.
Up a set of stairs,
to find a set of keys,
That will take me out of here,
And give me something new to see.
Monotony has me tired as the day has just begun, I am still waiting for that water.
Unproductive as they come, while in motion none the less,
Aside myself somewhere else,
As I would like to be, I must confess.
Desperate as someone wanting nothing really is,

42. Incomplete. 2006

The degrees rise with the dropping of the temperature outside,
Anxiously waiting for the morning, yet there is nothing I am looking up to.
With a glass emptying like body warmth in the wintertime,
I am emptying out onto the floor.
Unsure whether I’ve burned my own bridges,
Or if they only broke away with time.
I am unsure whether new ones will appear,
And if I’ll cross them before I die.
The minutes gather as the hours left lessen,
Anxiously waiting for the morning, yet I have no reasoning why.
What’s hope on a deathbed?
Where have all the good ones gone?

43. Material nothing. (Incomplete) 2006

Routine has you grief stricken;
The ignored options in your life are begging for turns you’ll never dispense.
Get the job, get the money, get the guy, and make the family.
Well fuck the failing marriages and pointless frivolities,
Take the chance to say fuck everything despite personal uncertainties.
Dulling the purpose of life into something sickening and mundane;
Wishing you were somebody else, wishing life wasn’t all the same.
Society mingles in a sordid purgatory of happiness;
Rules imply fitting the world’s expectations and inventing false cures for emptiness.
Fabricate love and faith to give yourself a false sense of self worth,
While you barely manage to snag the promotion you’ve all your life dreamed of.
Maybe you were born knowing the life you’d end up leading;
The same life you subconsciously couldn’t stand but lived in constant fear of leaving.
I want to know what makes death so repulsive,
And the person who decided for me the literal meaning of poverty.
Money stole your life away generations before you were born,
I suggest you change your ways before you’ll live the life you’ve hated while still dying all the same.
You might as well be getting salaries in sand as dollar bills let known their true value:
Shame.

44. Incomplete. 2006

She captures the color she knows with the backside of her palm,
Records the data changes and makes way for realization to take its toll.
Fickle sight for a capricious mind with the slight of a hand so one of a kind.
The mind collaborates with uneasy nerves to compose;
The muscles twitch with bone movements to carry out,
Carry out your tasks.
When the brain tires and your arms relax,
Eyelids drop like anvils in Saturday morning cartoon antics.
Halt the night and fall onto a barren mattress,
Icy sheets wrap ’round your naked feet as you await the warmth to ensue,
Conducting body heat.
And when the daylight slams your window panes with force enough to launch a revolution,
Your sleep’s been vandalized as you open taped shut eyes to repeat yesterday
In, oh of course, a better fashion and disguise.
Days pass through as photocopies do,
It’s only a matter of time you think,
until the paper jams and disappears with you.

45. Sentences. 2006

If the subject is unknown, how can there be a decent predicate?
The sentence is incomplete in the eyes of proper grammar etiquette.
With the thought being unfinished there are no words to put in stone,
Porous stone collecting details you don’t want to yet profess in pitch and tone.
And when you do collect your thoughts and place them gracefully to speech,
You realize you paused a little too long and used a few words out of context,
But you don’t seem to mind.
A stuttering mouth can’t clear the brain sending signals because it’s too full of words,
The clumsy dialogue repeats it’s mistakes because of the thought flow refusing to pause.
Sending what you say to graves while birthing something new to say,
It’s just difficult to give up what you’ve personally raised,
which is why the words stumble instead of sway.
And they stumble, they fall.
They repeat, they stall.
They’re ugly when audible,
So ugly, so wrong.
If the torrent of noise flowing from flesh proceeds,
It’ll run the river dry;
Here, I am silent again,
Working to make sentences I’ll quickly try to end.

46. Incomplete. 2006

A lazy paralyzation triggered by unhealthy obsessions and ample amounts of free time,
A timer setting it’s self new every day to run out of minutes and rewind,
Repetition has you wondering as the aged atheist would,
No heaven, no hell, no fire, no bells.

47. Incomplete. 2006

I’ve tainted perfection with the slight of my eyes,
‘Cause when I blink, time stops.
‘Cause when I blink, my mind stops.
I’ve changed colors and made ill of

48. Incomplete. 2007

I’m back where I began,
And I bent over backwards to leave,
I started here plain,
With tricks up my left sleeve,
With a heart on my sleeve.
This isn’t the weather meant for sleeves.

49. Gin and Tonic. 2007

Desperate as a stray caught wet walking through the rain,
Pockets emptied like self esteems at the suicide clinic.
Flashing character like breasts at the local triple X saloon,
Mind bitter like gin, mind bitter like tonic.
Competing for the glance that gets you nothing but a second drink,
Smile wide like a full stomach, wonder wide and hope you don’t vomit
Mind bitter like gin, mind bitter like tonic.
Sometimes you’re sick, and sometimes you love it.
Think in patterns of skeptic trials and misconceptions,
While you match notions and inanimate objects as one,
The thoughts pile like dirty laundry.
Keys missing as you scramble for monetary change,
Morals missing as you scramble for a drastic life change.
Mind bitter like gin, mind bitter like tonic.
Steps ease down a broken staircase as you try not to blow it.
Can’t control the leaky faucet you routinely call your heart,
Unrequited reunions disrupt days as delinquents do in class.
Solutions creep as a stalker would, slow and insincere.
Feelings creep as a stalker would, slow and so sincere.
Mind bitter like gin, mind bitter like tonic.
You‘re tired of this and those purple eyes show it.

50. Incomplete. 2007

With a certain palm tree scene come drowned feelings,
Head buried in sand.
With particular street sign times appear faces,
Head hit’s the cement.
In the ocean swims regret, it’s all you can do to avoid it.
In tangled sea grass hides want, such unattainable nonsense.
But you’re in love with something there,
As the heat begins to takes its toll,

51. Incomplete. 2007

The reunion with yourself ensues,
Family you never wished to see.
Equipped with gifts even they knew you didn’t want,
Aggressively kiss your little cheeks.
Regrets amount like snow, settling in softly.
Better days scream, and worse ones halt your speaking,
“I haven’t seen you in so long”, she says, while picking up the pieces.
The night grows thin, you wish you weren’t here
Calling the next best place home, thinking about what you triggered
Options low,
Light is rising,
New day leaves behind another wasted,
As old hopes rise like ghosts again,
You pull memories out of your hair.

52. Incomplete. 2007

Nylon knit fantasies aren’t one hundred percent cotton.

53. Incomplete. 2006

Database, bottle of mace, shopping mall and a parking space;
Stop light, road sign, too much time, bottle of wine.
Band-Aid, doctor blood, stethoscope, noose of rope.
Empty face, big jacket, freezing cold, my writing’s dull.
Humid heat, music note, glass of water, capacity’s full.
Data flow, cyclic error, technological tribulation, heartbreak of the nation.
Bar fight,

56. Time Revelry. 2004

In the dead of the night, under cheerless skies in December;
I cover a bed like a tombstone, sheets making out illegible epitaphs.
Minutes slip elusively through fingers to small to catch them,
And I’m left here to wonder if this idle time falls six feet under cold earth.
Someday I’ll throw revelry, the funeral of the century;
I’ll invite every second that’s passed me by, it’ll end at till half passed two.
And when the time has come, we’ll welcome two thirty one,
The party is over when the second hand gives the word;
Everyone will leave,
Everyone will go home and rot.
Time will keep on dying because time will never stop

57. Asheville, NC 2003

Ill but glamorous glitter covering a cold window pane,
This light reflecting off tiny raindrops could be so much more than it all really is;
Street lamps on busy streets when hues of black and gray aren’t enough for the sight I need,
Twinkling perfection on cloudy mountain tops bring out shining whites and yellows scattered all throughout the trees;
Insincere promotions dressed bright in neon and pretty,
Driving past delicate veils of Christmas lights that look like modernized confetti;
Appealing and appalling like concrete covered mountains,
Seventy two tall buildings, its continual, and I’m still counting;
Little pink faces in suits walking past miles of powdered snow,
And I know they’re all a little cold, despite expressionless faces,
Their minds remain clandestine.
Winter in a city glows so nicely in pitch black,
Hectic streets and business demands take away most of everything,
While delicate, undersized hands desperately try to put it back

64. Incomplete. 2007

The mathematics of memories
The said system of dreams.
Letters create words,
Produce new data to confer.
Thinking without language,
Thinking without terms.
Wordless in confusion,
There is still data to confer.
As a speech drifts into mumbles,
As I’m falling fast asleep.
And my eyes begin to close,
As you’re talking soft to me.
There isn’t much more to confer.

65. Incomplete. 2007

Sharp toothed scavenger,
Beautiful, street smart carnivore
Clothed in pricey threads and gold jewelry.
An impressive visage attempts to hide instinct,
Your actual motives shine through.
Working to eat,
Eating is survival
Growing old and mating,
So delightful when you’re primal.
Living in a mansion,
Living in a box,
No different when you’re dead,
Money doesn’t talk.

66. Incomplete. 2007

Printed parchment replaces flesh,
Change replaces idle time.
This doesn’t have to end,
Time does as it so pleases.
This shouldn’t have to stop,
Time does as it so pleases.
Loneliness doesn’t exist in you,
Yet creeps regardless of core values.
Taking tolls, leaving only denial.
Not content, despite the common thought.

67. Incomplete. 2007

Low class love affairs,
Dinners at the diner.
Paycheck by paycheck,
Stone by stone.
Bar fights and battered wives,
Run down cars and broken homes.
Still hungry infants covered in dirt,
Unlaundered clothes amount in heaps as high as mountains
Measuring worth in filthy old cotton
Weathered nylon,
torn polyester.

68. Incomplete. 2007

A detailed message on unnatural skin,
Gentle as brail,
Only without the helping hand.
Yes, the hands will let you know.

69. Incomplete 2007

Sit still and sink
So, so routine
Warm and soft and light and heavy
Stuck stapled to the corner of a mattress

70. Incomplete 2007

Musical notes and their fractional value
products never on par with how they were intended to sound
Conglomerating into patterns,
So seemingly genius without the slightest shred of brain

71. Incomplete 2008

carried away and washed up in illusion
tuning into exceptions, regrettable acceptance,
unforgettable accusations, profound realizations.
so dizzy in a circle of repetitious thoughts,
sincerely fooled by relativity, persuaded by negativity,
searching for genuinity, minutes passing like eternities.
unable to resuscitate the past,
without energy to constrain, thoughtfully disengaged,
undeniably insane, mind so rearranged,

72. Incomplete 2008

in the time it takes to tame the shakes,
formations of changes causing earthquakes
take hold, create form,
cut ties, build bridges with the severed strings
my attachment matured.
presumably chaotic hours at hand,
storming violently in a little head.
in minutes reason mutates into action,
results process, determining responses.
my ideals strenthened.
running with denial seemingly managed well.
sinking in self deception, caught in fallicious relativity built of stone.
ruined by illusions of need,
awakened in newfound knowledge of love; the religion of the weak.
my realizations are of great calibre.

73. Swimming 2008

The water is deep, a shade of dark blue tinged green with only a god would know what.
Clouded by both the somber color itself, and torrents of sand to prevent any sight
as to what could be at the bottom of my feet, I am nervous.
Cold and slimy, drops of this seemingly endless sea of water assault and slide
rapidly across my warm skin, meeting my uneasy body and leaving briskly within seconds.
The temperature of these tiny vandals leave me paralysed, but the consequential shock
they’ve triggered is of no comparison to that which the water itself has initiated.
What I am feeling resembles a warning, but I am certain I know how to swim.
Immersing myself into this ocean, I am devastatingly sure I should not step forward any
longer.
I am blindly trusting what can not feel.
Without regard for consequence, my actions are justified in the conglomeration of icy
molecules that now violently caress the skin of my neck.
I am swimming with what seems to be every last ounce of strength my limbs can conjure.
Realization takes its heavy toll when I notice my body sinking slowly into the depths
of the vicious sea I trusted halfheartedly against instinct.
What moved so gracefully, touched so wonderfully, appeared so alluringly in the beginning
is nothing but an inanimate object, flummoxed to the insidious sabotage its wreaked on my life.
My denial has evaporated, and I am abandoned feeling ashamed by the lack of skill I have
demonstrated in my fading predicament.
My control lessens with every fraction of every minute dictating the rest of my life.
Though falling deeper into what only touched my skin an hour before, I am overcome with
the illusion that I am floating downward into a sky of sand.
Incapable, incoherent, now incapacitated, I walked where I was not welcome.
I swam in water too deep, and have paid a price that literally serves as all I have.

76. Incomplete 2008

shreds of whats left sink into boxes, all i can account for now are the details.
as the bigger picture crumbles, a noisy fan is on my mind
the reason why is absent, the color of your shoes take its place.
how is at this point unheard of, but i can still smell cigarettes.
pictures fade, memory aches, letters are lost, all but the handwriting i can still mimic.
time warped history, the brand of shampoo in the shower.
years that seem like decades that catch up in just an hour.

79. Incomplete 2008

the complications of human collision,
the seemingly sincere, the violent repercussions

80. Incomplete 2008

the logic behind my rash decisions,
i can’t help but recognize the way you sympathize with my indifference.
comparing my edge to yours when i’m on the brink of certain failure,