If We Still Pass Notes As Adults

If it makes up for anything,
I thought about you through every rain we had this week,
And almost showed up at your door,
Till I second-guessed myself,
But you know all about me and that,
It's very hard needing you out here.


"Is that all right?" -Damien Rice, 9 Crimes

I remember,
The smoke on that yellow light night,
The red hem of her skirt,
In the safe leathered arms of her father,
Her pale complexion smiling up,
And the night before,
At her bedside she's telling me,
A failure a failure,
Nobody likes a failure,
And we're all failures to ourselves,
Flirting I took her hand,
And got a look into that girl's soul,
Catch silence,
The flickering behind a lampshade,
And we're all failures outside her door,
For just one more day,
Hoping to God she'll smile again,
And here she does,
In the smoke of this yellow light night,
See her as she will always be,
See what really pumps your heart,
Her every move,
A lifetime of your most precious dream.


Just us here-two,
Cold and damp and solitary,
My nervous arrogant assertions,
Echoing off the concrete slabs,
And the markings on the floor,
Point to every way but out,
And every answer but the one I want,
It's not acceptable to leave this untouched,
Like some leper's heart,
Carve into it with all the surgical ideas you have,
And my dim wit doesn't serve to light the morning,
Any better than your shallow breathing.


Break wrist,
Break any bone you want,
Break away,
From me,
Or the domestic,
Or Denver,
In the cold,
Your hair,
Our love.

Failed the Literacy Test

It's in check,
My mind,
Your heart,
But I'm choking down syrup to tell you the truth,
Over all of these walls,
Your thick purple guises,
Drip down to checkmate,
And I know,
I told you I know,
Dammit I know,
My own steeples are falling,
My own distances calling,
To check mind again,
To lie again,
Very close-with honours,
Into all the ears that won't listen.

My Comforter Has Like 80 Stains from Various Italian Dishes

It was cowardly of me,
To assume that glorious falsehood,
And I take full responsibility of that.

And I am responsible for every night,
Hidden in blue cover timidity,
Where I smile in understood nievate.

Think not on success, nor victory, nor pride,
Think not on passion and memories!
Live in the eyes of your lovers and here alone.

Cobblestones took me captive,
They all took me apart,
To the four corners of the border states.

Window seat on a train,
There is just one small crack,
For the air to seep through.

I think it's the breathing,
That really gets me stuck,
In the usual mud.