Grit

vicious vigilantes guard
stray streetlamps
by night.
we wake up with swollen joints
on the losing end of this fight

You could call out to the heavens
begging solitude,
begging peace,
yet turn a blind eye to your children
as they come begging at your feet.

rusty rags and threadbare britches
barely cover the bare bruises
of your soul.
We don't fear darkness, or distractions,
We build our fires against the cold.

And though the sun sets, we can't stop it,
we don't want to, we press on,
teeth clenched, fists lowered,
our sweat is dirty, we face the dawn.

every day, do something you're scared of.

they say we grow weak with every touch
but we know better.
i thought i was familiar with loneliness,
now i cry over every letter

im speaking figuratively of course,
crying's just another something i forgot
how to do
except the times i change the channels
and somehow think of you.

most of the time my days are numbered
a widened path, obscuring view
behind the bushes creep the homeless men
i have no money, i tell the truth.

A list of hobbies to occupy my time
a serious joke - im not enlightened, im just
trying to push you out the only way
i know how.

understand that, and you'll understand me
it's pathetic, but within that is a
bittersweet victory.

in a long time

tell me could i 
bust your myths,
write your scripts,
steal all the most inspiring lines
right off your lips.

we are but ribs
from hardened flesh

rustling with sounds
of cracking necks.

tell me something honest;
something i dont want to hear.
wounds cried bloodless
like i cried tears.

if time took everything,
what could be left?
anything would rattle
inside an empty chest.


so we never danced.
i never sang either,
but we crawled on our knees,
ignored the nice weather.

simple as fuck,
you gave me that much.
but hollow like ashtrays
we no longer touch.

There's a smudge on my screen where your name used to be

and I like it that way because it's tainted
like you.
Is it possible for a cynic to fall in love too easily?
Is it possible to be homicidal, yet also
charismatic and out-going?

I don't know, but I will say this:
staying motivated is hard,
its like I'm constantly searching.
Gotta find new reasons to keep breathing,
find new things to believe in,
find new beds to sleep in.

Because all my idols are dead,
old ghosts fuck with my head,
all I ever dream of is leaving.

I didn't intend for all of that to rhyme, but there you go.
I'm never satisfied so I just lay here.

Sometimes rhyming calms me down

I do like it when the lights are off,
and I like being alone
when pictures of your face
are my only remnants of home.
I live and die within this city,
but I dream about the town
that made me realize, looking out
I should consider settling down.
I take deep breaths like it's the last time,
because one day, it will be.
I didn't say goodbye to old friends and lovers,
but I did tell them sorry.
I'm sorry, saying sorry, taking covers from a child.
burning memories on these pages,
hoping you would stay the night.
yes, the trouble,
it's not worth it,
but someone, somewhere wrote the lines
that skipped a generation,
candy-coated both our minds.

It's part of this initiative to write every day.

have you ever written something,
and then found out it was already written?
its like:

"hello im from the future"
"hello im from the past"
"hello i am a ghost"

and then the cycle starts all over again
like you’re doubting your own existence
all because someone somewhere had the exact same idea

your brains are like this massive string of wires
and when two minds get on the same wave length
no one knows what the course of action is
because none of us are making sense except to each other

i missed you dearly in the summer
but the winter keeps me company
so nowadays i never wonder
anymore