Categories
Lyrics

Bathroom Love

I wanted to try to keep it inside
But I just can’t hold it in anymore
There’s something I just got to let out
When I walk through that door
I can’t keep it back
I gotta let it flow
And there’s something that I gotta let you know

I’m trying to cram all the feelings I have
Between you and me
In a little song
But I’ve really got to pee

I wanted to be romantic
I wanted to let you know
The way I feel
I wanted you to feel the same way girl
So we both know that it’s real
But babe I gotta go now
There’s something that I must do
And I’ll be lighting a match
Before I’m through

I’m trying to wash away the stain
I thought I should do it on my own
I was holding it in so long
But I’ve really gotta sit down on that throne

There’s something I gotta share with you
But some things weren’t meant to be
And I can’t just wipe away the pain
Not a bidet goes by
I wish you could see
That my love for you goes on and on
Like love’s eternal candle
So I’m begging you woman
Please don’t jiggle the handle

Girl I know you hate to see me go
That’s why you need to close the door
That’s what all this love is for
So don’t just let it go down the drain

Categories
Prose

Sweltering

The heat collapses into melody, baring souls no longer present. A wild memory appears. It is super effective. The mind establishes the Moria bridge, refusing to move or die. Shadows fill the stands, silently cheering.

This time, simply existing is winning. A harder game, when doing nothing seems the wrong move. The wrong love. Cross. Don’t fight. Don’t remember or look back. Quests no longer lie in the swelter. The other side of the pillow beats the south side of the sky.

Magic is real. It’s just hard to perform.

Categories
Prose

You Can’t Go Back

Idle twist with benefits, one, two, three. Desires that take thorns through skin, but never bleed. How many feelings does it take to get to the center of my soul? The world many never know. I may never know. It’s a secret that nobody knows.

Icicles form in summer skies dripping from my eyes. I am cold, and warmth took a holiday. Yet, I burn.

You can never go back. Ever. Back is a nuclear holocaust wrapped in plastic, so it’s toxic and can’t breathe, and skin ripples, and tears pour into wine glasses blood red so everyone can have one.

I revolve around a barycenter between me and the idea of you. Maybe it’s not the best idea I’ve ever had, but it seemed like a good one at the time. Shut up. Stop. Let me bring the center back inside myself and put it between my head and heart again.

Categories
Prose

William Tell Over With

A cornucopia of worldwide utopia, sending hope to both of you, betrothed to you. Caterwauling storms bring drops and clatters, stabbing through hearts into the heart of something that doesn’t even matter, and even if it did, where is it on the wind? Wind up and unwind, to bring pieces of mind to act as the stones one might use to cross the river of blues.

You can’t go back. When you do go back, it’s either a painful reminder to you of what went wrong, or it’s a rejection of what you once were, plural and singular, and you’re putting the ‘sing’ in singular.

Blood ripping through my veins, dripping out of hearts and coffee and goddamns

…you would say, in variants and versions and sequels, like war drums, because you had actually declared war against everyone. You thought everyone had battled you for so long, that you went through learning it, through experiencing it, past expecting it, and straight on to causing it. Certainty was the pillow you lay your head on, and correctness was the sheet you slept under. You had guns, and you had ammunition, but one of them was wrong, so every time you hit your target, and you always hit your target, there was a little bit of backlash – and there was always backlash.

I was never sure if I should take away your guns, or your ammunition, or stand back and bandage your wounds… but I was always sure you wanted me standing downrange with an apple on my head.

Categories
Poetry

Life, Love, And Sleeping In

Life imagines us piece by piece, creating us from raindrops and beach sand and autumn leaves. Colors, sadness and tranquility blown by the wind carve ruts in our skin, reminding us of what is missing. 


Love molds us with hands and caresses, asking us what we want, what shape we should take, how many times we should kiss, until the clouds and smoke bring us down to ground level, shaking the earth beneath our feet.