Monday, June 28, 2010

You're a line in a song.
You're a word in a sentence.
You're a letter in a word.
But you're mine.

You're a lawn on a house.
You're a blade of grass.
You're a single solitary ant.
But you're mine.

You're a face in a crowd.
You're a smile on a face.
You're a tooth in a mouth.
But you're mine.

You're my line in a song.
You're my lawn on a house.
You're my face in the crowd.
And to me, that's what matters.


Friday, May 28, 2010

I hope I never forget the nights in which my dad and I watch wrestling together. I hope I can someday be half the father he is.


Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Welcome back to the age of apathy. It's time to return to my roots.

This is what happens when no matter what you do, it just won't work.


Sunday, May 09, 2010

Tell your friends you love them.


Sunday, April 25, 2010

I have friends that think
this is all life has to give.
All I do is laugh.

"When the sky turns black
and all the birds aren't chirping,
does God stop watching?"

I ask to deaf ears.
Sometimes, I think animals
know more than I do.


To live and love may
be dreamlike, but I have been having these nightmares

Where these four walls
Start closing in on me like
An elevator

Before I get to
Say what's really on my mind.
Love drunk, hate sober.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

"There's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
in there.

There's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
you want to blow my book sales in
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
and we sleep together like
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do

- Charles Bukowski: "Bluebird"


Sunday, February 28, 2010

I've been seeing old friends lately.
It feels like I'm Scrooge being visited by the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future.
But these are the ghosts of friendships that slipped away.

They all seem real happy,
And whatever it was feigned or truth,
I wish them all the best.

My life has continued without them.

My life will continue without them.

And so it goes.


Wednesday, February 24, 2010


This has nothing to do with anything and everything to do with something.

And I love not making sense.