4.04.03 Early morning.

I would make out with one hundred women to ask for a dollar!  er, well, you know. Or maybe, the women would ask me for the hundred dollars to make out with the strobe light.  Yeh, that's what happened.

04-06-03

I'm stuck inside my head with no room to move.  I would have told you, but I couldn't escape.  I wish I could get out, or just let go.  I wish I could tell myself no, it's not real.  But I'm stuck in this castle tower, with no way out, except all the way down.  I can't find the key to the lock, so the window stands unguarded.  Maybe I could set my mind at ease.  All I have to do is close my eyes and step over the edge.  But my mind won't let me escape.  I'm trapped with thoughts.

April. 6. 2003.
(Written in pen on my arm, outside of a cemetery at approx. 6:00am)

A man in love is a man onto himself.  He is a man onto God. He knows what He knows will kill him.  He knows that he doesn’t care.  That he knows is good enough for him.  He is dying from the one thing that could save us all.  That could save him.  Knowing that he steps over the edge.

8 April 2003
Pens & Socks
She never slept under my umbrella
It was always raining too hard.
She said Yes, once
But the clouds gathered black above the mountains.

The rain turned all to shore,
Washing over my umbrella.
I turned to look for someone else,
But alone I stood atop the wind-swept hill.

She never wept under my umbrella
The icy wind always froze her tears.
The coming light hesitated for a moment
And in that moment, she disappeared.

A light went off as the clouds gathered along the ridge,
A gull called out flying past the window sill,
Alone before it all I sat,
And drifted off to the land of sleep.

She dreamt of never leaving my umbrella,
Staying under it with me down in the grass,
Rolling around lazily in the cool breeze and rain
But even in dreams are those morning clouds upon the horizon.

I woke to a feeling of resignation.
The bed enveloped me with an understanding embrace.
I slept the alone under my umbrella,
Knowing that it could never be the same.

9 2003 April.
Ignition
Riding down the west bound streets
The lines whip by while the lights come on.
Riding the corners close to grinning
The west strip seems like the place we should be.

The hair falling in my eyes at stoplights
Reminds me of the closed shades we left behind,
The wind flips them open
Through the broken windows we made with those bricks.

I left the umbrella in the can by the locked door,
The top down, the holes in the roof leak.
Did you turn all the lights out
Before we made that place light up?

I can hear the waves in your eyes before
	we ever reached the coast,
They eroded your desire to go and washed
	you out into a sea of regret.

I drove on that night, along the west bound lanes,
But the grin was no longer on my lips.

Sand Castle

You trade cards for bricks when I get too close.
Your house of red hearts can’t stand the waves.
The shore poses a problem to your situation.
The rain threatens your new hair style from above.

The stairs still stand solid against the waves.
The outer wall foundation crumbles slowly with the weight of receding water.
The blue water reflects the moon from where your living room fell through.
Azul and white foam form the dropped carpet entrance foyer.

Lonely but alone the black and white tiles plunge one by one headlong to the sea.
The lavish mansion built of cards and stone hearts is no match for the power
Of the sea which now bears a single black umbrella off to unknown shores,
And comforts the foundation of the grand estate.

A lone figure stands atop the stairs and watches
As the umbrella drifts calmly toward the setting moon,
And the marble as it tumbles into the blue carpet.

4:20 2003
Garden of Need

April 29, 2003
You want to write poems about me, fine.  You want to put up fliers about me, then go ahead, and waste your time.  No one is going to listen.  I’m the only one who sees them and understands what you’re trying to do.  I just don’t understand why you put in so much effort to this struggle, cause there isn’t a struggle; it’s just all in your mind.  I’m not fighting anymore.  I shut the door, and then opened another door, and you’re still there yelling in my face as I try to walk outside.  You won’t move out of my way, and think that if you yell in my face and argue with me, that I’ll stay here and realize my “errors.”  But I won’t, cause when you cage me, I explode.  I disappear completely, never to be fully or partially recovered.  So keep posting billboards, and keep singing those songs that make you hate me more and more every day, cause I’m feeling a bit shaky.  All I need is to be trapped in a corner, and I’ll lash out so violently that you won’t have any face to try to save when you realize that you were just doing this to try to keep what isn’t there.  Keep writing poems, and singing along.  My fuse is lit, and there’s only a few minutes left before it burns all the way down.