Precipice

lately the waves have rolled in cold,
and i haven't taken any calls.
usually, in states like these, i put them on hold
[an indefinite amount of time - it buys me time], but
lately they've been pushing and they've been ringing
louder than before.
i think i may be falling out of my head, sometimes,
and i think it takes another drink. i can fix things.
of course, i'm wrong, and i always was.

i didn't say we were in a sad way, i just said that
the waves, they come in cooler than before.
i won't answer his call, if i let it keep ringing,
he'll get the hint. he'll stop calling. and i'll keep
going. just like before.

meridian is not my name.

Meridian stopped by...

i don't want this anymore.

it's killing me, and i thought you understood.

where will i go?

i have no answers.

nothing is the same

i found it out on the newswire
and i can crawl like i did back when,
and you can love me like a doll,
i think i liked it best.

but i never felt it sharp before,
like now,
the knife i know i twist all on my own,
and it's a sin that i know i know
i know
is wrong.

if i'm looking drab and rained-out
i probably thought of you
and drank a little more than i ought,
and it was just a slow crawl,
like i did back when,
when you loved me like a doll.

i think i liked it best.

At 26

i flounder, then remembered
back from those ages when i couldn't fall
too deep. it was inconsequential - the way it folded in
over us and out onto platforms so high.
we couldn't breathe.
i'll keep re-living those purple-darkened
minutes by the glass and i'll keep them
sacred, locked up and sound.
we never had time enough to follow through,
the way we talked and all our stories, the misadventures,
collided and came down to our everyday.
this is what we've come to, and i'll keep re-living them,
every one, glass by glass.

tangential

she told me it was a moment's space
and in the shift i'd follow suit.
but i only half-believe her drunken
wisdom,
thinking love will hold it's own.
so in the darkest hours of morning,
when she stumbles out of my periphery,
i'm not sure it's so cold without
it for the moment.
but it was a moment's space
and in the shift i'd follow suit.
so i think it's all a shame,
a peel from the skin of our years,
that you'd forget to call,
to write,
and give me the simple satisfaction of a
late-night check-in.

a fantasy

somehow it isn't so clear
and they say you'll be okay anyway,
and you'll be okay anyway.
but i thought it was a garden i could wander
listless and awake, but only half -
i saw so much plastic and there wasn't room enough
for a single leaf,
a single green thing.
and let me tell you who i am -
a boy that carried himself across the ocean,
an anomaly in coded words like the grey in your sky,
a careful creature, unsure and without wings.
i can survive the trickiest storms, sometimes. and i've seen surprise
in my own
eyes,
and i pretend that everything is just ...
well, i may be naïve but i open up a little more and i
imagine you see me for what i am. i know what i can say,
and i know that it's okay
to love you.

over coffee

I start the day
And it feels long before
I even step . My . First . Step.
And I take the mug
Beside my bed and drink up
The last bit of bitter dark liquid
nicotine.
I found your note
On the desk beside
The phone. And . I . Read.
And I take the mug
In my hand and set it down
And the last bit of my heart begins
To fail.
*And it felt like lonesome on the ocean
And it felt like lonesome in the orchard
And I dreamt the day away
I found the words to say
And then I lose*
I get on with
My day and I feel slow
Inside my head. And . I . Keep.
And I start the car,
I'm on the road and scared
The light might stick at red
The whole way.
*And it felt like lonesome on the ocean
And it felt like lonesome in the orchard
And I dreamt the day away
I found the words to say
And then I lose*