Friday, May 23, 2014


cracked windshields
and blood stained t-shirts
manufactured landscapes
with fake man-made
we have a number
and a story
before we're old enough
to even read them
we're breathing poison
inhaling it
eating it
drinking it
seeing it
and hearing it
innocence has never
been an option
for any of us
papers with numbers
and deadlines
reminding us
that we'll never be free
and as our skin wrinkles
and our dreams fade
nothing will ever have
that new smell again
statements and forms
with official stamps
from the beginning
to the end
our birth
and death certificates
will bookend our lives
after working all day
on my feet in worn out shoes
i realized that i have developed
a slight limp
as i walk into the house
perhaps i never noticed
because in my head
i've had that limp
for years


i'm falling in slow motion
and no one can catch me
and it's fine
losing my breath
and losing my
and i've been losing my mind
for a long time now
nothing but secondhand air
because i can't afford
anything new anymore
i can look you in the eyes
but i'm not the alpha
i once was
so it hurts a bit more
as i break mine
and stare at the floor
wondering how i ever
made it this far
or if it matters at all
i thought i knew better
but perhaps
i've never known
i live with the consequences
of my conscience
every minute
of every day
there is nowhere
to run and hide
and this place i'm in
is killing me
this is the price
of loving
of caring
of making mistakes
and sometimes
it's just not ok