She dreams in neon
And I know
I know –
They’d sell you a line
Just to make you believe
And I want to believe
I’ve tried to keep my faith
But I can’t interpret my dreams
And
All I have is words
All I have is this guitar
And
All we have are shooting stars
And
Maybe we can’t escape
But
She can make a melody
While watching the sky
And maybe I can write her a line
If it keeps our faith alive
Don’t let us become bitter things
Don’t let us fall away
She dreams in neon
And I try to keep my faith
To my younger self
Let go
You don’t have to hold so tightly
You don’t have the answers
There are structures that are meant to fall
There are
Shadows of grief
And scars so deep
Even the roots are unnamed
The earth carries us
This little dot
Carry on
Carry on
When you feel less than nothing
There is a space for that
There is a quiet
Morning
To let you rest
In the coolness
All I really know
Is we will continue
Maybe we are like soldiers
Understanding we are already dead
There is no fear
Just numbness
Will you be there?
How do we live after such things?
Maybe
The morning picks up the pieces
You cast away in the night
Stitches them together with wind and bone
Maybe you don’t get the life you first believed
When you were young
You won’t age another year at the stroke of midnight in someone’s arms
You’re just an alcoholic poet
And you’re on your own
And maybe I just can’t silence
All the words in my head
And my thoughts are filled to full
Maybe I feel alone in crowds
Maybe her blue eyes
They help me stand up
Maybe they catch the silver sunlight
Maybe she’s the queen of all I’ve seen
Maybe
I figured out we don’t live forever
Maybe there’s a ghost that follows me
Reminding me
Of the view from the grain of sand
The salt in the water
Where did these weights come from
Who built this home?
Who put this sadness here ?
There are notes I cannot play
There is grief here
Maybe we are the same
Maybe someone has something worse
Maybe it’s the friend that’s sick
“I think I’m sick. Maybe I have what you have…” he said. Recently he found out he has cancer…
Maybe it’s the constant pressure to be and provide and succeed
Maybe it’s knowing we are not permanent and I may not have enough time to be all that I wanted to be
Maybe the morning will pick up the pieces I cast away at night…
Everything changes so fast, we are not what we once was…I hope you know…some days you are not what you want to be
I hope you know,
I hope you
I hope
I hope
You know
Fires burn out
You never know what’s coming for you
Things end
Friends die
Loss hurts
And there is a pain
That doesn’t go away
And maybe I’m running from poverty
I’m running for my dream
Like some people run from gluten
And body fat
But in 3 minutes I will be 31
And I remember 3 minutes of tornadoes
I remember 3 minute seizures
I remember there are lifetimes
There are empires built on sand
Inside three minutes
—/
Maybe you’re never what you thought you’d be
But there is still morning
And no one owes you anything
So write to her
About her eyes and the morning
And her beauty
Because all of this ?
This is fleeting
And you won’t be here…
Fight it
Hold on
It will not change it a jot
You can not change what has been
Write letters
They are textured
They are sacred …
I tell myself to get up
I tell myself to be as I was
But I don’t know how
I don’t know how
Whereas
I am not mad at God
I simply am
Unsure what else could possibly be done
That has not been done ?
And whereas
They look at you like you’re beneath them
Forever
Unheard and unseen
And whereas
The odds are bet against you
And you are fading
——
Whereas
Another breakdown
Before the storm
Another shutdown
Another hick town
Another resolution
Just before sunset
Whereas
Another tough decision
No more food
Not even a pension
Whereas God
Do you ever think about us ?
Do you ever come through
We are just dust
And we fooled ourselves thinking we were more
And our strength is fading
Whereas
All we have is less
And this empty room
Without enough language
For the pain
And the muscles broken and wore
Fading
I have a scar from emergency surgery across my stomach that turns 13 next month. This photo turned 3 today…
Crohns sucks.
You present well, you look healthy,
But your heart clutches and your bones ache…
you can’t sleep
And sometimes you’re up and sometimes you’re down…
But isn’t that life?
1 resection
Countless scopes
3different medicines
3 NG tubes
Countless weeks in different hospitals
I’m not sure what to tell you…
It’s different for everyone
And that is part of your uniqueness
It’s still your story
After this photo a few months later, I spent a week in a hospital with an NG tube in Birmingham.
Hang in there
I know this year is difficult, especially mentally, we are broadcasting reminders everywhere that we are in a pandemic and people are dying and the world is burning and
and
and
in case you forgot
and
and
and …
And You
You matter
Your pain matters
Your love matters
You, your story
Your heartache
Your lonely
Your passion
Your health
I piece myself together bit by bit cuff links and ties
Bourbon and poetry
I write letters
I send flowers
I cook
I take 20 minute naps
And
I listen to jazz and Sinatra and the blues …
Take time for you…
You’re still here.
We make from the interior of sadness
Poetry
From the fires of life
We create art
I was inspired
To write this
After
Wanda Coleman’s poem “Wanda Why Aren’t You Dead”
It is not an attempt to replicate
It simply opened my eyes to bringing our demons to light
——
I am intrigued by you
I am curious about you
You make me nervous
I cannot put a label on you
Why do you dress the way you do
You always dress up
Why don’t you just relax
You’re not like anyone around here
Why are you still here
Why are you here, why haven’t you left yet …
You are not a writer
Don’t write about your pain
Write what you want to write
You don’t want to be a burden
Don’t whine
You stupid fuck
You’re not a real writer
You’re just like your father
You’re a failure
You’ll probably die young
You’re vomiting randomly
You’re probably dying
Crohns
Don’t be picky about your food
You ate potatoes growing up
You know, no one is really going to love you
No one is really going to be attracted to you
You’re too fucking weird
You’re probably even bad at sex
You’re a quitter
You quit your career
You left your marriage
You left your town
You’re running
You’re less than nothing
You will never be happy
Why are you still here?
You’re going to keep faking it
You’re too much for people
They are merely curious
Nothing else
Why haven’t you killed yourself yet?
You know, no one else will ever want to sleep with you…
You’re too awkward
Your stomach
Your scar
Why does your stomach growl so much ?
Can’t you make it stop?
You’re too thin
Omg I hate thin guys
Why don’t you just let yourself have a dad bod
You work too much
You should relax
Just take all of your sleeping pills
Then you can relax
You know I’m going to kill you right?
You will probably die alone
Like your dad
Why are you even still here
Didn’t you go to college?
Oh my god, I feel so bad that you didn’t go to real school
You must be so dumb
There is nothing here for me
There’s no reason for me to be here
I hate everyone here
I feel like you’re suddenly your own person
You want your secrets and your life
You walked out
Quitter
You gave up
I thought you were different but you ended up being just like the rest of them, selfish trash.
You will never have a marriage like your grandparents
It’s not your fault
It’s not your fault
Love doesn’t have to hurt
You can let yourself have a flare up
You don’t have to write it funny
You can vomit as soon as you get home
And it just be a flare up
You can eat cheesecake
You can write how you feel
You are still you
You’re going towards something good
You are ok
You don’t have to be perfect
You don’t have to be perfect
You can be good
You can be good
You are enough
You tried your best
Your best was more than enough
Because it was still – you
You
Are
Someone’s
Something
Make someone’s day easier
Let them know when you think about them
You never know who you will lose
Let it go
You never know what’s coming for you
You are broken but still whole
Be here now
Touch her
Like you’re writing music
Slow
Kiss her
Like her lips are made of wine
Undress her like you’re reading Braille
But most of all
Be present
Right there
Read her body
Breathe her in
-E
She was beautiful
in that way
That you
Feel
Your heartbeat
In water
You were aware
Suddenly, that yes,
You were alive.
