white truck parked on a one way street outside the house with the cherry tree three cruisers, stand on the lawn shouting "come out" with their guns drawn but we both know they won't loneliness loneliness can make somebody go crazy sorrow boy i saw you on the train with your head in your hands i've felt the same with your tired eyes you looked just like me and your hollow cheeks you look like a dream that i forgot i've felt that pain before when my phone wouldn't ring and i needed it to it's the only thing loneliness loneliness can make you go crazy

woke up & the room's a mess i'd clean it up but i'm too stressed i had a dream about you i guess i got nowhere to go it's been this way for a week or so i'd get dressed, but why? i'm wasting my time aren't i? oh well i don't mind you could leave him if you wanted to but if not, i'll wait i'm happy here either way i guess now it's plain for anyone to see we're just keeping company i guess

i'll get the car tonight i'll call you we'll go out for a drive for a while, you ask me do i know why it's still a crime to feel a little bit less than they want you to feel i say i don't know some days it's a lifetime some mornings it's on my mind what can you do to see it through

i pick up free clothes in dumbo a friend of a friend a means to an end i try to guess the devil's email i come up short of course, of course i want to fuck the space between us will you let me call tomorrow for a little while? i do not know i float, i float twisting my arm through the computer's jaw i heard they shot the sun from the sky i didn't hear why but i don't think i mind

springtime 2009 do you wanna come over? we can both get high we wash the car for twenty dollars and make a call that nobody answers eight years gone it still goes on i can't believe what time's done to me a tone of voice, soft whispered prayer like i'm down on my knees begging a stranger

i'm a rainbow at the end of the world ball, we go he's laughing but not at me he turns to leave it's somebody's birthday party i'm crashing i hope that you're happy with me i'd like to taste something half as sweet to be unburdened longer it's somebody's birthday party i'm crashing i hope you're not angry with me

you were in the kitchen arguing with your mother the sound of running water & the heat from the oven some days i go out walking some days i just sit around i cop whenever i gotta as long as my man's around they say the house isn't haunted but light touches every wall when you split the heart open what comes out isn't blood

Sometimes I feel like dropping Down to my knees and weeping Openly, my face pressed against The dirt and fresh cut grass, but Something keeps pulling me Up, up until my feet dangle Just above the lawn and I Hang there like a newborn dog, Limp and blind in my mother’s jaw Two small shadows left running Under branch, under street-light, Shapes traced on the white skin Of the moon, reminiscent of My father’s face in the Bathroom mirror, he shaved Each morning, hot water Running from the sink and From the shower both And me, sitting on the Toilet beside him, A falcon diving from The top of a high rise, Small meteor falling Towards unknown prey. All there ever was. The morning dew The sound of one Hundred lawnmowers Struggling to turn over A low, slow humming Resistance in Every muscle’s Sullen, sore Rising from A dream What will not haunt No house, no car No breakfast bowl Cereal, two coffee cup Almond milk, check Engine light, nausea, ‘I have not been here’ Or, ‘I have not been home’, whose book Is that you’re reading Today, on the train At the bus stop, or On your lunch break Do you remember Watching the Columbia Shuttle Disaster on TV? Do you remember what You did the night of The Sikh Temple Shooting? Man with gun, White t-shirt. What will not haunt No house, yet You wake up early Before the sunrise, In a cold sweat, Anxious, there is no Button to press, No pill that will Slow your heartbeat This way, there is Nothing left To reach for My grandmother is Dying, my grandfather Is dying too, and the Cat is dying, there Is love inside each House and in every Room and every Chamber of your Heart that the Light touches, You have a dream Where you are Answering phones for A large corporation, You never learn the Name or what they do, And you don’t know why People are calling, but You answer, every time And every time there is Only the faint sound of An older lady weeping You want to comfort Her but you don’t Know what to say And you don’t know What’s wrong, or Why she’s calling you So instead you think To put her on hold, Just for a moment, Just long enough To get some answers But there is no button To press, and no-one You can find To help you I am in love and It shows, I don’t Want it to ever end. My eyes light up like A truck stop burning My eyes light up like An ambulance on fire We throw rocks at The ant hill in the yard We take a flying fuck At the moon Josh died three times That night in Midtown, First at the bar, again In his room, and finally When his body hit The street I was waiting for a Table at a sub-par Mexican restaurant When I got the call. The church says the Glow around a dying Man is pink, but the Bartender said it was Closer to blue, and I think I believe her Blue is the color of Love, sadness, longing, But also of cool water Touched by wind and Bloodless skies after A night of lightning and Rain, blue is the Color of solitude Following the long Quick fall out of Love with someone Who hurt you Blue is not loneliness Just as solitude is Not loneliness, I don’t know how He felt that night, Lonely or haunted In the Four Seasons bar They’ll remember him In flowers and Instagram captions, I’ll see his face in Bare branched Sycamore trees I’ve run out of money Again, and it’s a Reminder, I guess, Of how very badly I need to get up from My place in the Sun and sweep the floor Vacuum the car Wash the dishes in The kitchen too I met Nick in California, only Once, before they took Down Hansa, He was Very kind, though His arms blistered in The hot, ugly sun, I saw, a few months After that, someone looking For him online – claiming to be An ex lover, but most likely Something different – we are Very rarely what we say we are – I hope, if he wants to be Found, that they find him And if he doesn’t, I hope They search the whole World twice over without Seeing even a shadow of His roadmap flesh In my dream, I am Sitting on the edge Of a small, wooden Boat rocking along The gentle waves of Lake Michigan again, Like I am only thirteen No cellphone, no hunger No desires at all besides For the day to never end I don’t want to have to Row to shore – I can Barely see it