Music Banter - Some new poems.

Pieces (of you) on the floor

Everything I lost looks so different now.

I appreciate it from an outsiders view.

Before, these things didn’t matter much.

It was just normal because I was used to having it.

I was used to having the control to start and quit,

and abuse it and use it and think about it and wonder

about it.

But now that I don’t have it, it just seems like a vague

piece of nothing that was taken away from me.

You’re even prettier with guilt stains

on your dress and cobwebs

over your soul.

Beatles & Stones

He said I could take a ‘chill pill’,

if things are too tough right now.

But he didn’t understand that I didn’t need

to chill.

I needed Sex Pistols and Twisted Sisters.

And if not that,

then a Strokes album that feels like a rainy day

or Hotel California sitting in front of me

And I hit up Abbey Road tonight

‘cause the cocaine wore off

and

maybe that wasn’t good enough

so just

Please

Please Me.

Untitled

There’s no lights left
in the darkest hallway
you could have helped me

There’s no tears left
inside of my dry eyes
you could have spared me

There’s no life left
in this hollow vessel
you could have saved me

Home

Chains are just what I needed.

This is my freedom.

Untitled

My hands are tired.

From ****ing with,

the tension between us.

Do you remember?

My lover. My friend. I took a walk tonight and I felt like I was seeing everything for the first time. The city lights reminded me of the glisten in your eyes and the bright gleam of your smile. The children playing reminded me of your innocence and your sweet sweet happiness. The adults shopping reminded me of the things that I realize, now, that you never took for granted. Myself included. The darkness reminded me of the nights we stayed up together and you leaned over on my shoulder and cried and I held you — until I knew you were asleep and I rested, too. It also reminded me of the nights whenever it would storm and we could hear the rain so hard outside and the lightning was barely noticeable outside of your curtains. But we talked about it, anyway. You shined a flashlight on the wall and we made puppets and talked about who we were and why we wouldn’t change that even if we were given an extreme amount of money. Then we talked about money and it’s lack of importance to us. Then we talked about our importance to each other and the flashlight went out. The rain stopped. And we created our own.

All these things reminded me of you, and I didn’t know how to erase it.

I (feel) like (I am worth much more with) you.

I feel small.

But we, darling, are large.

We’re larger than a day in the rain, soaked in smoke filled air with our shirts clinging to our skin like a magnet.

We’re larger than a night on the town with city lights gleaming brighter than the smiles that remind us of our happiness.

We’re larger than the houses on our neighborhood street, where we grew up and still come to when things get too tough.

We’re larger together, than as one.

Crossroads

Is this the

end of dreaming?