the first snow had just fallen,
we were walking home from the bar-
it was cold and dark but we didn't notice
at least they didn't
they were throwing their hearts at each other in frustrated screams
as i walked along in silence and envy
i knew that was it- they were the great love story i've read about
it was something i hadn't seen but in movies-
so much wanting, and needing and yearning for the other-
it was there in the street- settling over the first frost-
i think now & i wonder what will become of them-
of that love- will they bury it back inside of themselves because
it's not feasible- because they don't think it could work-
because things worth having take work-

i wonder if they even know how beautiful their love is.

abandoned buildings have feelings too

sometimes i think about the old graffiti'd building
in the bottom of the canyon behind your parent's house

i think about how so much must have happened down there
parties, laughter, self-discovery, loss of innocence
and how even before that someone worked down there

and yet still i think about the time we spent exploring that canyon
how as soon as we were down there i felt at home
i felt the need to be alone, the need to be free
i felt lonely and complete and satisfied simultaneously

sometimes i think about the old graffiti'd building
in the bottom of that canyon - and i wonder if they miss me

in this hole
this beautiful dark hole - i have dug for myself
this is my home
it is where i will belong for all of time
this black hole is all i have
it is all i have

work

bruises stain my legs
and I'm at work again

another pointless night-
an unforgiving one-

two beers in my body
and it's not enough.

my scars make me feel
like I've lived

talking to strangers - serving them
it's belittling-

this place is a dirty cave
smelling of stale beer and old pizza

no one to talk to
nothing to occupy my time

chain smoking and hope that
tomorrow offers excitement is all i have

the tip jar is mostly bare
a few silver coins litter the bottom-
how will i buy love and beer tomorrow-

i smell like him or maybe that's just how i smell-
either way it reminds me of him-

i keep thinking I'm ready to leave
but nothing waits for me at home-

people come in - laughing and talking
with sweat rolling down their jowls
when they smile i can see
the bits of hate sticking to their teeth
they are just as anxious for life to begin as i am-

and i've come home drunk again
with so many secrets
and sad stories swelling inside my head
how can i sleep
friends of mine who hate friends of roommates with babies that are ghosts
lovers who fight when they drink
who drink because they're happy
how do i cope
am i supposed to cope at all
all these things
these problems- they're not my own
but they affect me everyday
how can i sleep without thinking
how can i sleep without drinking
visions of other's fights-
suicide attempts
unexpected babies
adultries - running through my head
i wonder- if anyone else has to deal with loved ones like these
every possible disappointment but death
but it seems it's on the horizon

when home means heaven

everything always ends with whiskey
but tonight started a different way

swimming on the floor
voices in the clouds
moving - talking -
words never spoken but heard-
thoughts in unison
thinking in songs
songs thinking in me

worlds they never knew i gave them-
they made them-
we created ourselves picture perfect-
parts moving on their own
frantically moving
crying - laughing
wanting more
wanting nothing

perfection

fuck you
fuck technology

this is heaven
this place
this home

new worlds & places
music & perfection

rooms - places - times-
everything better than the last

parking lot
living room floor
kitchen floor

girls on sinks
complete terror

dark rooms
hidden girls
new faces
scary places
running - hiding -
from yourself

finding freedom
liberation

they never knew the four of us would create heaven
we are everything-

happiness
living is right now
this is fucking life.

it's unexplainable
the end.





(what's all the shit outside of here? i don't want to know. i don't want to go. don't want to go there again - the soundtrack of our lives is something no one has heard - just feels like home - this is home - i am home. -from a friend-)

a.c.

this place is a wasteland..
you said it so perfectly

words these people don't like to hear..

we are all selfish and souless..
lonley and lost..
yet we don't try to look to each other for solace..

just good times that mean nothing
how can someone say they love me
when they know nothing about me..

i'm trying hard to not say those words
but people have expectations
people feed on your warmth
they dine on your empathy and give you nothing for your kindness

this place is savage
these people hungry beasts
these people that i call home..

you said we are all lonely
and it's true..
i'm sad and i feel it daily
but yet i've forgotten how to listen
how to care..
i have taken you for granted
as i do myself

i have forgotten how to be a 'good' person
but i have learned how to fake it

i have adjusted to this empty way of life..
i see so many other people live this life
that i begin to think that this is normal
this is how the world is supposed to be
void of true feeling

i have managed to become the person i didn't want to be
and i hadn't fully realized it..
it's not as though i had been completely oblivious of it..
but i just didn't think anyone noticed

everyone else is so wrapped up in theirselves
in their lonliness

you are right- you are..
not about everything........just about me..

what a perfect dream.

bigots and hilljacks.

white trash and the worthless.

the abundance of deceit provides a playground for carnage.

meth. suicide. babies. & death.

the lack of knowledge can be suffocating.

explosions. fires. guns. & sex.

the absence of care leads to dirty lives.

home sweet home.

it's hindering. it's painful. it's perfect.



this town will suck you in and keep you...

can you believe someone escaped.

library.

it's 1 am

what am i doing here

mandarin signing in my ear.

wish i was somewhere else, but anywhere but home

running in the streets

running through the streets of Chicago
where everyone is pretending to be something their not

on the red line to a party i wonder if they are the same
so many stories so many secrets are hiding in here-
on the blue line- trying to get farther from home

we look like a parade - twenty of us walking looking confused

and excited- two by two here we come-

for that's all the street will allow-

so cold i can see your breath- but things are happy
and nothing can be too wrong tonight

looking like whores and sluts- we dance around - stealing-spilling-
dealing laughs and stares-

new people- old friends- could things be any better-
beautiful people are in abundance- beer is free and flowing
find a cup and you can join- for a small piece of your dignity
nothing is off limits-

boys in skirts- chicks with dicks-
let's dance and drink and smoke- these are the times
the best times- if we can say that- if we have that-

running in the streets- complaining from the cold- and feeling lost-
this is truely the best of what we have-