a long time from now

so there goes another night
passing by with every drink poured
it’s been so long
I wonder how I stay strong
no sleep tonight
I leave this bar for a camera in the morning
as the moon fades in new york
one more night is gone, only twenty three more days

until I see her again


and there goes my day
passing by with every photo taken
its been so hard
so much time, spent so far apart
while she walks those new orleans streets without me
how many times does her heart break on nights like tonight?
I guess I’ll find out in twenty three days

when I see her again


my body aches, 
and my head hurts from the glare of the lights
and no one cares about my art

I wish that I weren’t here today, 

but this is my life

when will I see her again?

a long time from now…

things break. they fall apart…that’s life.

I’ve endured enough heartbreak and pain for 2 lifetimes. I’ve broken hearts, lied, had my heart broke, and been lied too. for some of us, life just bears a certain burden that weighs heavy on our soul.

what separates us from the norm is the wild fluctuations from these feelings. the soul lifting joy of new love to the skin crawling anxiety of heartbreak. these emotions render us unable to see what’s right in front of us. whether it be a new chance at life, or the fleeting moments of a flame long burned out.  

I’m watching a close friend go through heartbreak. I’m watching the spiral down, the crash, the burn, the dust off, and the slow recovery back to normalcy. I hate to see people hurt. strangers and friends alike.

I recognize his pain. I’ve held it close to my heart for years. far too many really. I know what he’s going through and can do nothing. but watch, and try to just be a listening board.

The pain of heartbreak can destroy a man. it will utterly leave him broken. his options are usually run, hide, or fight.

most run. I know, I did…

we run from our shortfalls. run from our mistakes. run from our lack of love reciprocated. we run from all the minor personality flaws we bore, whilst in love.  we run from her.

she knows the real us. she now has us. one broken piece glued to another. sitting upon her mantle for all to see. 

heartbreak is the one emotion, no man ever really handles well. it’s aptly named. once we’re broken it’s hard to fix.

god hates us all.

this city is ugly.

it’s aggressive.

it’s loud.

it smells.

it’s fucking dirty.

it’s climate is unbearable.

winters are miserable.

summers are hell’s furnace.

it’s politics scare you in to thinking your neighbor is a terrorist.

it’s police force is heavy handed and brutal.

it’s pace is unrelenting,

and wears on your last fragile nerve.

but, when you lay your head

to rest at night

and you realize you’re not only surviving,

but thriving here-

no other city but New York will ever be good enough for you.

it’s home.

in all it’s obnoxious fucking glory.

I burn away

You’re more than close, and I should pull you in
The faith I never knew I had-

as I wait for you hopelessly-

Wasting the morning, wasting the afternoon
I’m just your slow burning boy
Hard trust, no trust, in your palm, I’m just your dust

Don’t come over, unless you wanna feel something
I like your hurt … just to make it my hurt
But for love, for nothing, I can’t replace you
In the dreams, and dreams, I wake you up

I burn away-
I burn away without you…without you

Your candle burns, it burns my fingertips-
You have all these new smells … that I never knew
Your magick charms can tell my future
You’re so far away from me, falling away from me

I burn away-
I burn away without you… without you.

when all is right, something must be wrong.

I can’t seem to figure out my unhappiness.

All is well.

Things are going quite swimmingly, really.

And yet

I am completely fucking miserable.

I feel detached

I need art. Not money.

Nor stability.

I just need my typerwiter

and a subject to throw myself into.

Currently I have neither.

But, I have money.

Lot’s of it. 

And I’m fucking miserable. 

I look to the times when I was starving on a floor in Los Angeles

and wish I could go back.

I had my art then.

how quickly we lose our way

I sit upon a soapbox daily, whiskey soaked diatribes about love and loss are the reoccurring subject matter.

my words are hollow. Im just as fucking lost as all of you are. I hold on to words, because they’re all I have.

I sit and dream of her, I wonder what she’s doing, I wonder if she’s ok. I want to take her pain, and hurt and make it mine.

when you fall in love with someone you take a silent vow to never hurt them. yet, inevitably you are the one who hurts them most.

how quickly we lose our way.

I want to be different for her. she’s been through enough. she deserves better. she took the leap of faith on the likes of me.

the depth and intensity of my feelings for her, shock even me. one day I was impenetrable, then I met her. now my heart feels like it’s beating outside my chest. exposed, to the elements. loving her has been the most beautiful, scary, and profound experience I have ever felt.

being away from her is devastating. I miss her magick. separation has been harder for me to handle than I like to admit. I am a weak individual. a child in a man’s body.

how quickly we lose our way.

fully understanding your feelings is a daunting task. I usually write about them and sit upon my soapbox, filled by ego, and content with my accomplishment.

but with her it’s different. everything is. she’s the girl who comes along, and in a blink of an eye she’s all you’ve ever needed.