The Morning After

Why do I cling desperately to the night?
I refuse to close my eyes and give into the dawn

I don’t want to be awake for the beginning
I don’t want to recognize an end

This idyllic morn has never occurred to me
and I won’t sleep while others are awake –
what could I be missing?

An anxiety takes hold as I regret what I didn’t do
and lacking courage I refuse to look forward to
a new opportunity to undo the things not done

The darkness is a comforting wrap
not haunted with ghosts or terrors
but providing a shelter, warm and closed

To be open is to be a deer in a clearing
To be optimistic is to be a fool

I am no dunce so I wish just once
the morning after would not come

Only night, eternal, forever more
no loss of time, no morning sun
no end to the day, no more: it’s done, it’s done…

The Worst Thing

It’s selfish and conceited, but sometimes I like to think I was your worst.

I was this little period in your life that you swallow pills to forget

I was the worst thing to ever happen to you

I kept you up all night, tossing in your bed, while thoughts went round your head

Like who the fuck is she, and did she mean what she said?

I’m a little piece of nightmare that got stuck in your dream teeth.

I’m the ghost devil on your shoulder, that you really thought was dead

And every so often you recall what I did

And think shit what did I get into, and can it never happen again.

 

I was conceited when I loved you, I was selfish when I left

I tossed words without abandon, I belittled what we had

Misery loves company, was my battle cry

I hung the phrase on all my banners, and let harsh words fall from my lips

Each second I felt scorned I thought would be my last

Every teardrop that fell from my eye you knew I blamed on you

I stuck a dagger in your chest, hoping to rake through

Your ribs and crack them down to dust

 

I love to imagine how I was the worst thing to ever happen to you

And in that I will be immortalized

That slanderous tale told at a cabin, and ghost story for the young

A cautionary tale of psycho bitches and what can come undone

A warning for your friends, a comedy for the bored,

A thank-your-lucky-stars-it-wasn’t-you for the unappreciative ignored

I will outlive all the rest, based on my infamy of horribleness

 

And then I feel downright bad.

 

Because I loved you in the moment, I treasured what we had

I trusted every word you spoke, believed each lie you said –

I think we both did – and when I started believing I was the

Worst thing that could happen to you, that I was crazy and insane,

I ran away and still blame you, even if it’s all in vain

 

Because I am the worst thing to ever happen to you

hearts don’t last

Heart race
tongue dry
hands sweat
hair fried

Quick step step
dodge to the side
run away fast
dance not to die

Push thoughts
far back
not nice
sad sack

A phantom ghost
that haunts the hall
its music loud
to mask the brawl

Clothes slide
off him
rinse mouth
lights dim

Animate the gods
cry out in vain
headboard broke
could not contain

One heart
beats fast
two hearts
can’t last

Escape

What is this restless thing inside me,
that says I can’t be still?

What burden do I carry,
that causes me to write?

An incessant tapping of the foot
and a crying at the gate,

I’m leaving here tonight;
I’m sorry I can’t wait.

I’ll leave you all behind,
as I plan this great escape.

I’ll toss the bed sheets through the frame
and rappel down the wall,

For there’s a time and there’s a place
for each and every thing.

I have yet to find my own
the time and place where I belong;

I have yet to find a time to sing
a place to birth my song.

A whisper in the corner
A voice that says, “don’t go,”

A shadow ever moving
even though I’ve long stood still

A haunting in the corridor
A ghost that grasps my throat

A rustle in the rafters
a noose to hang my coat.

With a cloak slung ‘round my shoulders,
and thick boots on my feet

The freezing rain invites me,
to dance out in the street.

A tappa-tap, a tippy-toe,
hot tea in thermos packed,

Tonight I’ll make the great escape
And never will turn back.

Each photo that I gaze upon
has seemed to lose its luster,

The bitter wind that stings my face
threatens to ruin my things,

The memories I’ve packed up tight
I’m not yet prepared to lose,

And of all these sweet belongings
not one I’d truly choose

To throw away, and let go the past
for ever does it follow;

It nips and bites my black-blue heels
and cracks the ice I walk on.

Will I really leave tonight,
embark upon this journey?

Can one start over, really leave
and demand a new beginning?

What you’ve done, it comes in dreams
reminds you where you’ve been;

If you are lost, but see the light
you’ll never reach le fin.

There are false trails, you might have known
that set off the mouse trap-tricks;

You’ve danced around such snares before
but what allure you love

You dust the mantelpiece with care
just before you go.

You’ll meet me where crossroads collide;
we are one, you know.

Soft Afternoons

It’s that glimmer of hope
that gets caught in my throat
when I see your words
or hear your name.
Something that could have spilt
from your very lips
was caught on a breeze
that drifted past my ear
one soft afternoon.

Shadows playing on a baby’s face –
you probably could have painted
something more unique than
that shit, but I just thought
of you and didn’t care,
not even of the crying or noises
at the park,
one soft afternoon.

The grass blades on my hand,
made me think of every time
we experienced our senses
at a greater height
to have them
fall
.     fall
.             fall from a greater
height, than sheep have known,
even on a soft afternoon.

Clouds in the sky, in my room, in your eyes
in our throats, in your hair, in my nose;
coughing, seeing, laughing, loving,
holding, blowing, thinking, knowing,
and questioning all that we
thought was wrong,
on a soft afternoon.