Ink

Needle pierces skin
ink touches blood
marked forever.
Each one,
with a purpose
in it's own time
and place.
But purposes
like ink
fade with time.
On my flesh colored canvas
I see pictures
a cross and the north star
for a faith and home
broken.
I see words
like forever and her name
in medieval script
misspelled.
Tattoos
like love and convictions
they dull.
Letters and pictures
run together
till their barley distinguishable.
Skin deep forever,
the longest commitment I will ever make

Mouth Full

I was so calm when you said goodbye,
that walking away you felt like I was the one leaving.
I should have given you tears, despite the lies-
you always loved to see men broken, bleeding.
Turn me apostate kneeling,
at your feet. While you, with twinkling eye
kneel for him. Your mouth too full-for screaming.

Lakeside

I drove out to the lake today to clear my head. I parked near the shore overlooking the water. I lie. It wasn't a lake it was a pond. In a city park. There was nothing beautiful about it, but it was the closest thing I had and I like to sound poetic. I put the car in park and left the heat running. My gas tank was almost on e but I was cold and down so I just said fuck it. My dog sat shotgun. I love her and I trust her. I would like to think if I was dieing with an open wound her affections for me would be stronger then the scent of blood and thousands of years of instinct and she wouldn't eat me. I like to think that. Took some Bukowski with me. I read the Dhali Lhama last week but he didn't do shit for me, so I thought if a good man couldn't help me maybe I should try an asshole. I sat there and read his whole novel. He left me angry and unsatisfied. Two hours later no better then when I came.

Me not Walking

I can feel you searching me, looking for some soft spot to attack or some part of my body that doesn't have your claw marks on it yet. Those lips I used to kiss so much hide fangs and you show them now. We shouldn't even be in each other's lives. Neither one of us does the other any good and we both know it. But its this stupid fucking game we play. Like children. Constantly taking little pieces away from each other. Small loses and even smaller victories make for a never-ending war of attrition. When you get me good I smile and brush it off because I know that frustrates you more then anything I could say back. In this fight its not who is the wittiest or cruelest its who can hide their hurt feelings and shattered ego the best. I've had enough. I want it to be over. If I was righteous I would just walk or maybe tilt my head back, give you my throat or some major artery and say "Take your best shot." See how much you got and how much I got in me. But I'm not. So inside I'm sulking and raging. Plotting. Maybe I'll go lower then you ever thought I would. Hit harder then you ever thought I would hit. Crush you and watch you limp away broken. I don't want to. I don't hate you. I don't even care anymore. But I'm tired. You're slowly killing me-one phone call, one text message, one off handed remark at a time. I'm bleeding out and I hate to lose.

Walking Away

When the time comes for you to leave you can't idly walk away, eyes looking over your shoulder, arms reaching back. When you leave it should be a mad, desperate sprint. Never looking back. Never regretting your decision. Don't leave one foot in the door and foot foot out. There is nothing there but fear, awkward conversation, insecurity, and a yearning for the past that will tear up your insides. When you decide to leave someone, leave them completely. If you can't do that you're not ready to walk.

Shadows of You

In a dream I had last night
Your words,
Soft and delicate
Floated off your tongue
And danced about my head.
In my weariness,
I believed them
With all the devotion one gives
To shadows in the dark.
One part fear.
One part wonder.
And then morning,
Like cold water on my face
Back to a world
Where snakes don't whisper lies
In the dark.

Peer Pressure

Your life, it has any significance to me at all. only serves as a reminder of what I am so desperately fleeing from. I measure myself constantly against you. I don't want to poison my body anymore. I don't want my muscles soft and weak from lack of use. I want to learn and learn with passion and vigor. When I love, I want it to be a hard and loyal kind of love that doesn't flinch. I don't want to change you, I want to outshine you. In everything.

Perfect Storm

I am an ocean
Of great vastness
And intangible depths
And you
You are a great storm
From some place I have never seen
On to some shore I'll never know
Fierce and all-consuming
You draw your strength from me as you pass me by
And I give it to you freely
Then your gone
Off to some distant place
Ravaging and destroying
Always taking
Never giving
You leave me here
With calm surfaces
But underneath
I stir and whirl about myself
Less now then when you came

Cesear's Palace

I remember you coming home from the casino. The way you smelt of cigar smoke and stale whiskey. It was a masculine smell, like strength and answers. And every night when you said you broke even I believed you. I was young and naive. More then that I trusted you in the way only a son can trust his father. Did you lose it all slowly? Or was there one moment where you gave it all away? Pocket Aces. An Ace high flop. Your heart jumped. You fancied yourself a hero. Bills paid. Debts forgiven. In that moment you were the perfect husband and father. You shoved all your chips into the pot without thinking. This one a house. These few a wife and two kids. Hundreds of tiny plastic pieces of all of us. Everything into the center. The quickness and confidence with which he called your bet startled you. Carelessness and egoism made you miss the flush draw. He hit a spade on the river and in a moment you lost everything. You cried as watched him count the chips. On that day I was born. The dealer took me up, wrapped me in green felt ripped from the table. I cried uncontrolably for nourishment. They called a cocktail waitress with bleached blonde hair and a butterfly tattoo on the small of her back to nurse me. She tried her best but her silicone breasts yielded nothing. I cried. The pit boss pityed me and dipping his fingers into a comped gin and tonic baptized me. A fat man from upper management came and collected me from the casino floor. In a small upper room I was poked and appraised. He took out a spreadsheet from a filing cabinet and listed my name under the profits column.

Coward With a Pack of Matches

My truths exist briefly. I ramble for hours on blank pages and then burn the evidence. My words melt. My heart a white, dancing whiff of smoke that dances upward and disappears forever.

Staring Down Myself

In the darkness of my room I sit on bended knees. Eyes shut I try not to force it. Tell myself to let it come. I pillage the dark crevices of my mind. The past is elusive. It hides itself in the muddled voices of shame and denial. Everywhere it treads it leaves it's tracks. Deep scars and tightened chests. It begs to be followed. I sit in silence poised to ambush. I carry no weapons because I seek not to kill but to understand. Both of us before each other in complete nakedness. In the illuminant light of perfect clarity it asks me to come to terms. To accept. Drape it around my shoulders like a trophy.

Year-Long Lease

Don't bother bringing your toothbrush to my place because we won't make it through the night. I can feel you picking me apart. Prying. If you go too deep I'll push right the fuck back. Overreacting. If you insult me in the least I'll come back and break you completely. Tell me you don't like my shirt and I'll leave you a crying mess on the floor. Alone is nothing to me but it will kill you.

While You're Sleeping Next To Me

You've got your head on my chest. I want to trust you when you say things like you could lay here forever or you like the way my arms feel wrapped around you. But I don't think I can. 5 foot nothing. Size 4 dress on my floor. You'll fucking crush me if you can. A chink in my evolutionary armor. 8 million years of instinct tell me to cut and run right now. Leave you clutching the pillow.

Little Voices

Your always there, just below the surface
That knot in my chest, that lump in my throat
Your life is my biggest fear
To have nothing
To be too old to make a change
Alone
Scared
And you put your failure on my shoulders
Make me carry it like a cross
And lately my knees have started to buckle
I want to cut you off completely
Leave you in your misery
But I can't because your under my skin and in my blood
I love you and I hate you
I want to beat the shit out of you and make things better for you at the same time
To love is easy, to hate is easy
When you get the two mixed it feels like dieing
I will never put my burdens on anyone

Greatness

What do you know about insecurity
About fear
Every whisper, a secret about you
Every mutter an insult
Not good looking enough
Not big enough
Not man enough
She tells you she loves you and you think it's some cruel joke
Always thinking sincerity is feigned
Always pushing away
Always proving your own worth
What do you know about conquest
You've learned to turn weakness into strength
Fuel for the fire
Or is that too cliche?

Past it

Time to move on
This town served it's purpose
But I've taken all I can from it
And now it's suffocating
The same bars
The same girls
I'm beyond it now
I can feel myself changing, growing
And there's no more room left for me here
When I turned 18 my father said, "Now, son your a man"
But I was too unsure of myself, too scared to claim that title with any honesty
Now I stand upright
I look in the mirror and know all the ins and outs of the person looking back at me
I don't shy away from my reflection
Everyday I take what a want
And say yes to my nature
That is a man.

Back of my mind

Sometimes I wonder where this drive stole into my life
I want to be better then you
Stronger
Richer
Smarter
And so in everything I do I carry a little picture of you in my mind
Your memory is painful but it pushes me
Like the whip on a horses back, I keep moving forward
You're there when I lift
And when I work
You're there when I fuck
And when I study
You'll never let me be satisfied and I love you for it
A shrink would try to take you from me
They would call me tormented and an ego-maniac
But I won't let them touch you

Jealousy

I saw her on front campus reading Hemingway and I immediately wanted to know her. My last girlfriend read Twilight, quoted Taylor Swift songs in her Facebook statuses and called it deep. I want to write her in some poem or story and make her eternal. I never want to forget that people like her exist. She’s different. A long, pink scar running down the side of her face. Just like mine. But she’s ashamed of hers. She looks down when she walks and tries to cover it up with make up. She shouldn't. If I had her I would wrap my arms around her waist and lift her chin gently with my fingers and trace the lightning shaped mark with my lips.
I want to skip all the formalities with her. I don’t want to date or get to know her because I already know every thing about her. I want to tell her I love her before I even know her name. I want to lay tangled up in her and finally rest. She has a star tattoo on the back of her neck. I have tattoos too. I hope I’m edgy enough. Please think I’m edgy enough. I swear I am. I don’t want to have to talk to her. I can write but I can’t talk. God gives tongues or pens. Almost never both. We met on the lawn that day. I managed to speak. She brought her issues. I brought mine. We bore each other’s crosses. That’s love.
She sleeps at my apartment most nights. She doesn’t like to stay at her parent’s house because she says she feels lonely there. My oversized Red Sox jersey drapes her body nightly. I bury my face in her shoulder nightly. I smell her moisturizer. Her perfume. I fell in love again last night. And tonight. And tomorrow night. Love without end. Her last boyfriend was better looking then me. He had more tattoos and a better body. He wrote her poetry and she slept at his apartment too. I hope I hold her tighter then him. I work out daily so I can feel bigger. Make her feel smaller in my arms. I try to force conversation just in case my holding her doesn’t say enough. I’m scared she’ll go back to him. She leaves every morning. The jersey clutches her scent and I clutch the jersey. Hold it in my arms and breath in. I want her smell to stay forever. I want her to stay forever. Nightmares of her going back to him. I work out more. Talk more. Get more tattoos. Hold her more tightly. Smell her more deeply. I don’t want to be left alone again.
I can feel her drifting. I hate her for it. Her eyes wander. She only sleeps at my apartment a couple nights a week. I feel inadequate. Confused. Scared. Losing her scent and losing her. I clutch more tightly. My arms wrap around her ankles. Begging like a dog. She’s my savior. Two hands groped in the dark and found each other. She’s my executioner. Gun in hand. She has the upper hand. I work out more and comb my hair. Buy new clothes and apply expensive moisturizer to my face. I need to feel like I’m better then her. That’s she’s beneath me.
She left today forever. The door slammed. She said I drove her away. I’m too insecure. Too needy. Not edgy enough. I wish I had better hair. Bigger biceps. More defined abs. I wish I was wordly. Or could cook. Or could speak. I’m too scared. The nightmares come back. I wake up in cold sweats. Reach my hand out for her. Hit air. Her smell lingers lazily on her side of the bed. I roll in it. Bury my face in it. Dilute it with tears. Every night it fades more and I think of her. The indian giver.

Meet Me There

Wait for me
Until I come around
And when I do bear my cross
And I, In turn
Will Bear Yours
We'll walk out
Hand in hand
And brave the storm together

Bradstreet

I was never really an Anne Bradstreet fan but this line got me
"Then while we live, in love let's so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever"

Standing Alone

You have to face lonliness to stand for something
No, I won't go to the bar
I won't smoke
Won't go downtown
Won't have sex with you
Holding out for some reward that your not sure will ever come
You can't help but feel like your missing out
On something
But you tell yourself there has to be more
Then getting drunk and chasing ass
It's that hope that keeps you holding on
Day to day
You hope it's principle that is keeping you
And not just blind fear

The Middle Path

People tell me to use moderation
But I can't seem to find the middle ground
Luke-warm about anything does nothing for me
Always to extremes

The man you thought you knew

Who is it your looking at?
I can dress up in a king's clothes or drape myself with peasant's rags.
I can quote scripture and cross myself in the morning
Walk drunken streets by dusk
I am, at all times, exactly what circumstance calls me to be
Never confuse my face with truth, because, even now,
It is a well-rehearsed lie.
A lie I am all too happy to tell you.

Waffle House

Your somewhere across the Atlantic now. Greece, Turkey, England-I don't know exactly where. And we had to break it off because it's no good to be tied down on a Euro trip. But I hope your enjoying yourself, that it's everything you hoped it would be. When your next to the Parthenon or looking at the Coliseum from your hotel balcony, I hope somewhere in the middle of that you'll think of me. And when you sit at some fancy cafe on the Champs Ellysees, drinking a latte and talking existentialism with an exchange student, just once I hope I cross your mind. I'll still be here-sipping cold coffee at a Waffle House with a cook that always remembers my name.

I need

To clean out my personal life
Throw away what has been wasted, left unused
Disingenuous remnants of people I never loved
And that never really loved me
Drink and drugs that destroyed my body
Left me unfulfilled and confused
Innocence wasted in drunken sheets
And mornings I tried to steal it back
But was always left wanting
My way didn't work
And so I'll seek out another path
And if one doesn't exist I'll carve my own
A trail blazer

The Idiots Guide to meeting a chick at Barnes & Noble

You could meet a girl in a bar but then you would have to buy her drinks and she would probably end up cheating on you.

You could meet a girl at a club but then you would have to buy her drinks, watch her dance with some other guy, and then cheat on you.

You could meet a girl at the pool, but she would stop loving you once the weather got cold and your tan faded...And then cheat on you.

Or you could go to Barnes and Noble
Broken down by aisle/genre

Poetry-She's deep. She likes making out in the rain/on a beach. Her view of love is romanticized, once the initial stars fade and shit starts to hit the fan she won't know what to do.

Self-Help/Addiction Recovery-She has issues and that's always exciting. She'll make you feel like your a little less fucked up. Talk to her and try to help her but keep away from sharp objects.

Gender Studies-She changed her name to Steve. You can try talking to her but it probably won't go far.

Automotive/Mechanics-*See gender studies

Sci-fi/Anime-A little nerdy maybe but still a cool chick. Think sex and xbox. You can't go wrong here.

Theology-Risky. Test the waters by bringing up evolution or gay marriage. Score points by telling her how much you enjoyed Pat Robertson's special on Fox News last night. Ok, if your willing to lie from the onset.

Teen Novels/Includes Harry Potter & the Twilight series-Don't believe her. She doesn't read Harry Potter because it may or may not have deep religious/philosophical symbolism. She just likes magic. Just go to a bar.

Erotica-Say hello and pretend you know what your talking about.

The Classics-Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Shakespeare.Try to make this girl love you, or at least make you the hero in the novel that she will inevitably write.

*Note-All this girls will eventually cheat on you, but at least you might learn something first.

Savor It

I try to make sense of what I'm feeling
The hurt comes in waves-washes over me
Steals my focus and robs my peace of mind
I love you unfailingly
I tell myself I should appreciate the pain
Appreciate the fact that I can feel so deeply and so truly for another person
It means I'm alive-That I still have some emotional communion with humanity
Ask my heart to tell my head what it's feeling but there's a language barrier
Too big to overcome
Pure emotion vs. pure reason
Don't forget this feeling

Url and testosterone levels

I changed the url of my blog from toseeandtowrite.blogspot.com to spokenwrite.blogspot.com, mostly because some of my friends and family were starting to read it and I felt like that might inhibit me. I guess it's kind of bad when you feel more comfortable sharing yourself with complete strangers then the people closest to you or maybe that's a good thing. On another note I was looking at my past couple of posts and realized I sound like a whiny pre-pubescent girl and I'm not entirely comfortable with that. Steak. Football. Beer. Tits. There now I feel better.

Strippers and small town girls

Another blog I wrote on the plane tonight.

I’ve always been drawn to the broken girl. The girl who looks like she has issues, like she’s lived life and it’s punched her in the face a few times. I have no need for bleached blond perfection or live. Laugh. Love cliches. I don’t love the sorority girl, I love he chick with the fucked up family and a slight drinking problem. There is truth in her. My friend’s can never understand my taste in women and to an extent neither can I. I’m more drawn to the girl sitting on the couch by herself at the party then the one dancing on the table with her shirt off. One day I’ll meet a girl who everyone sees as broken or a slut or both. I’ll look at her and see something more. I’ll see how beautiful she is, in her eyes I’ll see how much she hurts. And me, the good looking college guy, will love her like no one ever has. I’ll save her from her bullshit job, her bullshit family, her bullshit life. After I take her away I’ll hold her and let her cry into my chest. I’ll kiss her forehead and wipe away the tears and she’ll love me for it. There is no one more full of shit then me.

Just because I've been on a Rollins kick lately

Dear tool,

Hey bro! How are you? Man, you were such a fucking tool in high school but then came pledge-day and look at you now! Your like a completely different person! You look good. How do you get that collar to stand up so straight? I like your shorts, my girlfriend had a pair that were almost that short. And the way you have a different fluorescent colored polo for everyday of the week, man, that's something. Your closet must look like a bowl of fruit loops. I'm liking that shaggy hair to. It says "Yea man, I really don't give a fuck". And that is what your trying to say isn't it bro? "I don't give a fuck that the economy is tanking or that we're in two wars-pass me a Natty bro I'm getting hammered!" Slam your key into the side of that can and shotgun another one, you deserve it. Lets pre-game a little longer then we can head on down to the bar. If we're lucky we might pass someone who's obviously smaller and weaker then us so we can call him a pussy. Hopefully, when we get to the bar that really insecure girl from our Art history class will be there. You know the one you said would be really hot if she lost a few pounds? Yeah her! You didn't think she heard you but she did and now she has an eating disorder. Sweet man you gave that chick an eating disorder! You can act really chivalrous and buy her some drinks. Maybe a sex on the beach or a fuzzy nipple? Something, that sounds cute and girly, because if it was named after your real intentions you would be buying two shots of "I have to get this girl really incoherently wasted for her to even consider touching my weak, uninteresting disgusting ass." Your not much better then a rapist are you? No bro, your not. So bottoms up my friend. Here's to hoping she doesn't see through your paper thin guise of bullshit. And hey if it doesn't work out you can always get wasted and drive drunk! But if you do please do so in a sparsely populated, heavily wooded area so when you wrap your car around a tree you'll only hurt yourself and nobody I care about. Take care! You fucking douche.

"I'm drunk and I miss you!"
-No, you miss me because your drunk.

There's a problem here

I'm really sorry I drank so much tonight but it's the only way I could listen to you speak for more then five minutes. You've been talking for over an hour now and I've yet to her an intelligent word come out of your mouth. Yes, I think your roommate should be more considerate of your feelings (a lie because I don't really care). No, I don't think she has bigger tits then you (another lie but for more obvious reasons). There was a time I found you attractive but that all changed shortly after you opened your mouth for the first time and a sea of bullshit flooded out. Now, your face, and the way you live your life in general, disgusts me. So it looks like we're at sort of a crossroads here. I could tell you the truth, after which you'll probably cry and call me an asshole for being honest. Or I can sit here for another hour and keep nodding like an idiot after every word you say and then at the end you can tell me how you've never meet someone who listens to you the way I do. Either way works for me.

Cut From Stone

They say it's whats on the inside that counts but they lie and so I'll make my body perfect for you. I'll run, lift, pull. Take what was weak and make it strong, what once walked through crowds unnoticed the envy of men. While everyone else makes their bodies feeble and soft with late nights and strong drink I'll build mine up, discard from my body everything useless and unwanted. Turn myself into something so cut and without flaw, that I'll dwarf your own self-image and no matter how bad I treat you or what I say you'll think to yourself "I can't do any better then him". And after awhile of this, when most would find contentment in themselves I'll spend hours looking at myself in the mirror trying to find new things to hate, always knowing that contentment is the great killer of progress. They will call me vain but I will know that I was the weak man who found a way to conquer his own deficiencys.

Gentlemen's Prayer

Before the last time I saw you I signed the cross, "Lord, please let me do right by this girl." I don't want to use lines to get into your heart, don't wanna drink until we end up entangled and confused in your bed. To take this friendship and reduce it to something empty and cheap. After your leave me I don't want you to feel used but that you used every part of me and that I willingly gave you it all. I wanna heal that pain I still see behind your eyes. When we kiss I'll hold your lips to mine for as long as I can and whisper in your ear 'save me'.

Scar Tissue

I wanna get off the plane and see someone there holding a sign with my name on it. I would take them in my arms and feel like I came back for a reason. I wanna get in my car and drive to a house that's not empty. There was a family there once but their gone now. Disassembled by court papers and dating websites. Don't be a bitch. Move on. These open wounds you see, they fester and grow deeper. Keep you from the real love and trust that surrounds you, kill all hope in it's infancy. Bite your lip and cauterize them.

Get Out

Every instinct of self-preservation in me tells me to go. Pack up and leave them. Don’t leave a note, don’t tell them where your going. Stand back and let them destroy themselves.Save yourself. Live off yourself, for yourself. Happiness is only real when shared, so is pain. A tree falls in the middle of a forest and no one is around to hear it.

Just a pet

My dog died today and I realized I feel more for it then 95 percent of the people in my life.

Crazy Love

I hate to see my own vulnerability. It makes my hands shake, makes me sick to my stomach. I hate the thought of another person having that much power over me so I’ll nip these feelings in the bud. Pray that one day I’ll be able to take the girl that can knock me on my ass over her luke-warm substitute, that I won’t sacrifice real love on the alter of emotional stability.

Roomanitarian

Passage from Henry Rollins' book Roomanitarian I found interesting. Especially in light of me recently getting my ass kicked.

"Theres nothing extraordinary about the person who hit you. There's nothing extraordinary about the people who encircle you. They're just people but they're inspired. They are inspired by you. Your actions have taken them across thresholds into territory they never knew existed. Before you lose consciousness, make sure to feel their hate. It's real and it's for you."

15,000 Feet Above Sea Level

I hover in the air. Scribble words I could never say to you on a folded up airplane napkin. Words I wanted to say so many times, but your face gets me tongue tied so I put them down on coward's lines. They upgraded me to first class when I would have gladly walked 1,000 miles home if it meant one more day with you. I curse the plane that drags me away, curse the obligations that won't let me stay. And I bless the times we're blessed to meet, and I bless the love thats beyond the sheets. I laugh when they tell me it's the mountains I'll miss, when I didn't even notice them beyond your face. And the altitude that they say leaves a man breathless, it's the same feeling I get when theres nothing but us. Tattoo your name across my heart, because thats the only place I'll ever want to keep you.

True strength

I once felt that it was the strong man who could live in relative solitude, in company with his own thoughts and emotions, impervious to the disdains or confirmations of others. I now know this to be error. The truly strong man doesn’t isolate his own heart but rather wears it in plain and unsheltered sight. To be at times torn, misunderstood, abused but to continue to live openly with the unabashed hope that one day it may be embraced.

Standing

I start running down a tree lined street over cracked asphalt and cigarette butts. A truck with an altered exhaust and 4 guys in fluorescent polo’s revs by me. One of the guys calls me a pussy. Alright. Shutting my eyes I keep running, tilting my head back and opening my mouth up to the night. I wonder how we got to this point, my generation. I’m thankful we have no Great War, no Normandy or Iwo Jima to storm. Our bodies are too soft from nights of whoring and drunkenness. Our hearts too weak from lack of discipline and aimless living. The women we left back home would be too busy worrying about who Paris Hilton was banging and getting banged themselves to write us letters to keep our spirits up and the war would be lost before it began. The Real World is not the real world. The American Idol is just that, an idol. A false being we put our hopes and dreams in, for lack of strength to pursue them ourselves. It’s not about religion, guilt, or sin anymore. It’s about not being a scumbag…to stand for something. To fight for something virtuous and tangible instead of drunken shit-talking. To have enough respect for the barley conscious girl we met in the bar to roll over and go to sleep instead trying to bang her. To be worthy. These are my aims, my hopes.

Hard to Tell

That I could tell you how I really feel about you. That I could treat you not as an object for my gratification but as a woman, my peace, with genuine love and gratitude. That I could tell you the truth because this is the truth. To hold you, lose myself in your embrace. To pray for God to stop the morning. That I might stay in you forever.

Keep going

I think of riding and never stopping. I have a bike, one book, four dollars. My soul----To be free. Free of guilt, of expectation. Free of hurting for other people. To build an island onto myself. Freedom in apathy. Even now I feel the pull.What man is strong enough to be wayward? The plane calls me home and I go.

Guiltless

Am I the man who knocked and found no answer? The man who sought and never found? Am I the pious sinner begging for another chance or the hypocrite feigning sincerity? Or am I the forgiven man whose forgotten how to feel guiltless?

Falling Backwards

I inhale deeply from a cigarette. The smoke sears my lungs. I turn my head sideways and exhale. The sand is soft under me. The ocean waves calm my mind. I think about my life. I close my eyes and try to come to some conclusion. My mind is full of failures and insecurities-my heart is full of love and peace. Those days are gone I tell myself. Days of meaningless living and anxiety. Days of unrestrained gratification of egotism and self-serving malice. I seek out a new life for myself. The upright man. The disciplined virtuoso. I take heed not to become too comfortable in my new mind-set-ever mindful of the ways we hastily return to the old self-that jealous lover that can’t stand to see us move on to something bigger, better than it could ever have been.