I’m wishing well in vain.

Take this pill

another one

you’ll see tomorrow

the rising sun

it washes over

everyone

regardless of their creed.

If I sang to you

in metaphor

or parable

I must implore

the meaning that

your searching for

exists only in faith.

So sure yeah I’ll

take half a drag

if you could promise

no aftermath

you’re a stupid kid

if you think that

anyone’s playing for keeps.

We called it love

but it was more

her beauty filled

my eyes with warmth

the tears that spill

are evermore

like leaves on the fall breeze.

If I told you once

I’d tell you twice

it’s meaningless

yeah my advice

it’s hogwash still

I swill it down

like champagne I am cheap.

There’s no reason to hang your head

Or spend all day in your bed

Because some things you can’t change

No matter what nothing is sane

No regret is meaningless

I mean the thought alone is evidence

That people never change

No matter how near or far away

And Ritalin works wonders for

The child who must be ignored

If the class is to progress

There’s no time to spare in jest

At first it feels like an accident

Then tragedy cranes her neck

It’s a problem you can’t solve

Because there’s nothing to be solved

Nobody gets quite what they deserve

A coin toss isn’t so absurd

If your winning it makes sense

If not you up your bet

You know that feeling in your head

The one that tells you you’re ahead

Before the obvious is said

Before the obvious is said

So

Take me with

a grain of salt

the shaker’s spilled

on everyone

who’s ever lost

or ever won

the menu’s all the same.

And I’ll take it now

for what it’s worth

this death I feel

as a rebirth

now everyone

I ever hurt

I’m wishing well in vain.

the great vast cosmos

What a beauty

is the moon

my moon to be exact

as there are many moons

though tonight

under a starless sky

it is only I

Christian and Jayce

navigating

the great

vast cosmos

naked &

alive

Her beauty

Her beauty was ultimately marred
by my incessant need for her beauty.

I wished to tell her she need not try so hard,
though knew this to be, ultimately futile.

I even coaxed her with a juicy red apple once,
just to slow her down.

But she explained fairly how she didn’t like apples,
or huntsman, but preferred mirrors

because they spoke to her in words
that were not forced but honest.

She looked at me and asked, is it so hard for a frog to see her beauty could never have the power to transform anything more than its own fading?

And that no kiss could stop time,
that fairy tales are real, but only the Grimm ones.

Let me show you, she said, and taking my lips in hers, sweet like berries

I watched her turn to dust through the stained glass light of morning.

Before Long Island

I
believed
in
myself
once.

A
long
time
ago.

Perhaps
too
much.

Perhaps
not

enough.

Like
I
believed
in
you.

A
long
time
ago.

Perhaps
too
little.

Perhaps
too

much.

While
your
many
faces
spoke.

Such
awful
beauty
spewed.

All
that
time.

I
heard

nothing.

Believe
it
or
not,
I

really
believed
in
everyone.

Spitting
tea
leaves.

Before
Long

Island.

That Kurt Cobain.

He had his finger on the pulse of a generation.

And another on the trigger of a shotgun.

Depending on who you believe,

a conspiracy theory won’t bring back the dead.

A corpse doesn’t lie, it sings.

It sings all the beautiful things it couldn’t see alive.

Through sentiment.

Remembrance.

And praise.

Shedding it’s form.

It becomes an idol.

He was a slick cat, that Kurt Cobain.

If he hadn’t wanted fame, Aberdeen would have gladly laid his grave.

And if not for boredom, then how could one know joy?

He was a slick cat, that Kurt Cobain.

A sly dog, indeed.