I’ll leave the porchlight on for you so you can find your way home in the darkness. And if you stumble through the night I’ll come and help. Lean on me, as we limp back home; as we find our way to the light again. And if you are too drunk And can’t drive, And everything inside of you is breaking, So you sit on the curb outside the bar, And cry, I’ll come and pick you up. I’ll take you home. I’ll be the porchlight. I’ll be the lighthou

Love her like a rose But don't you dare trim her thorns She grew them for a reason And if they bite you It's probably because someone tried to pluck her once or twice Instead of letting her be free to grow Love her Shine for her Be the soil Be the water she needs But let her grow Whatever way she wants to Be her home Not a cage Fake flowers displayed on a stage can’t grow But she is a rose Be gentle with her You two are in this together Be patient And kind Lust for her mi

I've hurt myself much more than you ever could, Love. I’ve been colder than the worst winter we’ve ever had. I’ve burned hotter than the bluest of flames. I went insane at a hauntingly young age. There’s an itch stitched behind my eyes whispering to me, telling me to misbehave. There is nothing you could do to me that I haven’t done to myself already. This life was always heavy. And I used to be lonely. There’s no blood left to bleed inside of me. And I don’t ask for hel

“I don't know how anyone can work a full-time job and have a hobby, Babe.” “I feel the same way. I wasn’t made to work forty hours a week.” “I can’t find the time to write. I don't have enough energy for anything else besides working, minimal exercise and a fading social life.” “There aren’t enough hours in the day.” “Imagine what it will be like when we have a baby? And then a toddler?” “We won’t even have time to breathe.” “How will we manage?” “Insanity?” “Maybe. I’ve been

Through a clenched jaw And a tapping foot He held his tongue Constantly biting his lower lip Eating whatever life threw at him He ate and ate and ate Until he was about to burst What are a few words sewn together worth? Nada, they only feed the soul It can change a person for an hour or two Nudging along me and you He knew he should be more An itch to explore was stitched to his skin An appetite for honest depth A death to fake flowers and cliche sayings A home for something

I tell her all I need is her to be happy and fulfilled in life, and she responds by immediately disappearing. Lesson learned. Stitch it onto my skin so I don’t forget it. Chisel it onto my arms with permanent ink. Let me sink into this. Aim it at my head and pull the trigger. Everyone drowns until they learn how to swim. I’ll spend another night getting stoned and sinking like a stone. Grind it into my bones. Carve it into my soul. Relying o

“Tell me about ‘Rock Bottom’.” “It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. 100 times worse than any physical pain.” “Was this when she broke up with you?” “Yeah, it was December of last year. And I lingered down there, in Rock Bottom, for a few months.” “Did you ever think about . . .” “No, no. Not quite. I didn’t like being alive but I didn’t want to die, either. I was reckless during the drive back home, but I was literally driving through tears . . . It wasn’t like that, though

I can’t write for shit, but I can still be honest So, here it goes, my soul exposed. Once more into the fray, Into the mind, Into time, Living to be free, Dying to live, We still breathe, don’t we? There’s still life to live, isn’t there? There’s still oxygen in the air somewhere. I don’t want to sugarcoat this, stop fucking with all of my emotions. I can’t even remember why I started all of this. I piss into the wind, And it hits me in the face. This is how being an artist

It's a stirring of the soul The same spark that starts the brushstroke The first note that leads the charge into a crescendo It’s life at first light after the darkest of nights A pluck on a guitar string as a broken heart starts to sing A planted seed that could grow into anything A single step up a spiraling staircase leading out of hell It’s the first word of a poem dancing with the pen A broke artist taking everything within and using i

“In Africa a thing is true at first light and a lie by noon and you have no more respect for it than for the lovely, perfect wood-fringed lake you see across the sun-baked salt plain. You have walked across that plain in the morning and you know that no such lake is there. But now it is there, absolutely true, beautiful and believable,” - some big dumb macho idiot. I bet If I met Ernest H. We’d argue, We’d drink, And we’d fight. I’d tell him he is a decent

His feet were dangling off the edge of the boat and his reflection was staring back up at him. “I’m having a tough time imagining a fish growing legs and walking out of the water,” he said, slowly reeling in his line. “We’ve caught a lot of fish, haven’t we? I mean, through the years we have. Never once have I caught a fish and thought it was possible it could’ve evolved to walk. Water is all a fish knows, you know?” “Shhh! You’ll scare the fish!” his brother hissed withou

Paintings of dragonflies dance on the wall. They fly so beautifully, with a unique grace only dragonflies possess. A ceiling fan spins rapidly over his head; another fan on the night stand spins loudly. It’s so damn hot. There is no sleep tonight, only dreams. The Faceless Lady comes and visits him again. She slips out of focus, never revealing herself. Tonight, he is determined to ask her who she is. He has his suspicions but he knows now he has to ask her. He has to know th

If love is all I feel Than let it be my muse until it fades If I am consumed by my relationship Than let it devour me entirely I never did have an identity So chew me up and spit me out Love me well Love me right Take me to hell with you Love me wrong And let’s see what’s left afterwards Drown who I used to be Spit on his grave I am sure there will be times when I’ll misbehave

The Mom is hurting. The Sister’s organs are bursting. The girlfriend is drowning. And the dog is limping. 33, And this is me; This is them; This is us. I am okay. I am alright. It’s everyone else who is breaking. I can’t save them. I can’t. It’s all out of my control. People get old. Dog’s get old . . . People have their own past. Some day we’ll have to let go of the things that made up our home. Today, I can tell them I love them. I can support them. I can

A faceless lady Visits me in my dreams I can never pin down who she is It always slips out of frame My lady is in the dreams, too We saved this mystery person from a frat party We took her to see the ‘Earth Tree’ And we taught her how to fix her own car From afar The faceless lady feels like someone I know I can only feel her She shifts She blends in with everything She stays out of focus But BUT! Tonight when I dream I will turn to her And I will ask her Who she is Even t

This is the shut down The final bout The end of a good thing This is the end of me, ‘The Writer’ A few screws have come loose A few wires upstairs crossed My lady left me My dog got sick Rent is due Every check engine light is on I’m not this strong It’s too heavy My back is broke I’ve run out of hope The Fighter died, but I wish it was me, not him I went numb I blocked it all out Last time, I sat with it This time, I dissociated I couldn’t handle it all But I can feel t

Find me In the cheapest clothes In the shittiest car Drinking the cheapest beer In the most expensive town Where I will be yearning for the most the beautiful lady in history Who just left me Find me in the middle of this story And yank me out Abduct me, if you can Grab me by the collar and drag me out of here Reach for me between the pages Find me in the space between words And save me . . . Whoa! Hey! Let me go! I wasn’t being se

There’s Kyle, he has Down Syndrome. He skateboards and sneaks into the ladies locker room. I can’t leave his side for a second. There’s Drew, he also has Down Syndrome. He’s always in love with someone new. I’ve known him for 10 years now. There’s Holdon, and I am not sure what his disability is. He's sensitive, gentle, kind and speaks very softly, almost in a whisper. There’s Brain, he has seizures. We don’t know how much longer he will live for. His seizure medicatio

“It’s all in the mind.” “It’s all about what you believe.” “It’s about who chose to be.” “It’s about God’s will.” “It’s about facing your fears.” “It’s about love.” “It’s all about you.” “It’s about everything and everyone.” “It’s about letting go.” “It’s about taking control.” “It’s about using suffering—transmuting it into art.” “It’s all about pleasure.” “It’s about a fella who died on a cross.” “It’s about discipline." “No, no! It’s about responsibility.” “Wrong! Life is

Healing looks like time passing, but time can only be lived, so I bet healing looks like trying to live again. Healing looks like a broken person trying their best to live again . . . For me healing looked like a bottle of whiskey and hundreds of shitty poetry. Healing looked like: a bong, a new job, an infinite playlists of the world's saddest songs, a dark room, a ceiling fan, and letting go of every plan I ever had. Healing looks like d