Conversations Among the Ruins

During this walk
the sun was just
coming up - that

awkward dim of
the sunlight just
as it rises.

Covered in mud
limping
and confused about

what had just
taken place. I don't
remember what if

any amount of
blood there was.
Just a baseball bat

and a swamp and
my lungs
burning.
It was cold

and I walked right
back up into the house
of the person

that left me there
laid down in bed
next to him - I moved

only to rip off
the once white
shirt.

I had picked it out
to wear for my
senior pictures.

I never made it
to those photos.

I never made it
to the prom.

I never made it to
graduation.

But I made it right
back up there
in his bed - he didn't

even move or say
a word. I was just
the dead walking

anyway. What
was the difference

between silence
and noise?

Segments of
it being halloween and
the next memory

is valentines day
because that's how
long the run

of speed lasted.

I did everything
but kill myself
to forget him.

To ignore those
imprints. To not
have to say

how I had been beat,
and left, and how

my family
and everybody else
around me

ignored it.

Not today.

Today I am happy
to watch him

wait tables
listlessly in

between jail
times

in the town
of which's streets

I visit
once a year.

You had
your life

coming,

mother fucker
and today

as I write out
everything you
ever did to me

so I can finally
let it all go

that
fact
sure makes me
smile

"My God this planet
is so over populated."

Under my breath
it's loud in my head
walking through a

packed events center.

I went to see Tool
last night. The reason being
that if I asked

the man that I love
to do something for me,

like basically,
anything imaginable,
no matter how much

he didn't want to,
he would, with a smile.

Working relationship is
a machine of compromise
and for
the past year we've

been together I've
refused on all shows.

Because I'd rather be
picking out what dress
I'll wear in my casket or

getting a needle removed
from my eye.

I used to get fucked up
every night of my life

at shows because I
didn't fit in, and I didn't
want to be there,

so I just started drinking,
and when wasted, it was
fun and it mattered,

until, everything that did
didn't exist because it
was replaced

with that.

"Lighten up." I've heard it
well since I was twenty five
but I
don't wear that. I don't own

that phrase, because I'd
rather be who I am
then a person enlightened

by the pretty LED wall
graphics, surrounded
by dancing bafoons

that throw beer
wearing faded black
denim and eyebrow rings

for fun.
Music.

Art within a constant
crisis of the ego but
isn't it all.

Lately I want to get
high as a kite and
that's the truth.

Listen to like
loud music and be
out of it enough
think it has something

to do
with existing
and wake up

four years later
like I'm twenty one
only I'm

twenty five and
lost because it wasn't
ever real.

I get really weird
about what "fun"
even means.

All I did at that
screaming metal show
was close my eyes

and watch
all of the suns
set.

Lightwaves
from

here.