dry of inspiration.
without company.

i am slipping away.
falling apart.

Please Just Listen.

I'd pretend I was asleep on the phone.
Just to hear you say my name over and over.
It sounded so good.
A part of me leaving you.

It's not seeing eye to eye when you won't look in mine.
I believed you when you said it's all I'm good for.
When I said, "Get your hands off of me."
I never meant put them on her.

Come home.
I can't even remember what you look like.
I never said goodbye.
You're just a blur repeating, "The responsibility's not mine."

I shouldn't have to see you and have you hug me,
Only to shove me against the wall and spit in my face.
You said they would help you.
But they didn't, not even a little bit.
The hits made you hit.

What were you thinking when you came home drunk?
I'd love to ask if I ever got the chance.
I tried to answer you.
I never got the chance.
I haven't tasted blood so thick in all of my life.

I didn't want you to hurt her.
"You can hurt me, I can take it."
The scars are gone now.
But they come back on days like this.

You said life wouldn't hurt.
But it did.
Bandages and bandages made of layers of bullshit.

And now I'm just a mess of messes.
Raising a sixteen year old on my own.
We play games.
But they're over when you don't come home.

I'm small, polite, and quiet.
Don't think twice about not saying hello.
It's not your fault for not knowing
How low I go when I go.

Richard All[arid].

You met a gypsy on the boardwalk.
By the beach with the waves and the pinkbluegreenpurpleorange sky.
She played the harp.
You said we had the same nose.
(It's the Native American blood)
Of course you stopped to talk, she was a Saggitarius.
With a Gaelic wit like mine, you said.
"You are everywhere."
Your tales make sleep a little less impossible.

Daisies Aren't Roses.

Make a smart ass remark about how I can't sit still.
Have I ever told you about that time that I-
Oh, I have?
What about the time that I-
Yeah, that's the one.
No matter how I sit I feel as though I'm slouching.
Maybe if I turn like so.
Inadequate.
I feel so inadequate here.
Spin the radio knobs to fill the silence with static.
It's a little less awkward now.
I like this song, but I won't say so.
Maybe you like girls with big personalities.
Maybe they scare you.
I'll just look out your window while you drive.

Crooked Spoons.

We're the crooked spoons in the drawer-
so dependable, yet so hard to hang on to.
The time-weathered friends you greet with awkward smiles
before uninspired conversations trail off to grappling.

The same way subtitles in a bad French movie
never seem to match up right.

Nausea.

Rolling.
Rolling.
Rolling.
Crash.

Usual.

fresh sheets with fresh-shaven legs interwoven.
i'm not sure what feels more out of place:
clean sheets or smooth legs?
it's morning again, and we're arguing.
nothing new, nothing huge, just sleepy banter.
we do these things we promise not to,
and regret not a second of it.
we will later.
like usual.
the grandma's laughing again,
on the television.
you hate that part.
you complain about it.
like usual.
silence on the line, i find
myself repeating your name again, again, again.
wake up.
wake up.
wake up.
hello? hi, you fell asleep again.
no i didn't. yes you did.
oh.
silence again.
is it crazy to find safety in the empty spaces?
to hide in the open,
right between your eyelashes.
a saftey net
of repeating failures.
we win some,
we lose some.
the usual.