Thursday, September 27, 2012

miserable postcards
















When I'm gone
there will be silence
but right now
there is noise
there will be no dreams
no music, no laughter
so
apart from the noise
I'm not really here
apart from the noise
there is nothing--
just an aching, fetid wound
that I call my life

sorry for
all of the miserable postcards
sorry for
forcing so many tears
if I knew I'd end up this way
I never would have begun a life with you

what are dreams
to a sleep-deprived man?
what is a handout and a smile
to a haggard beggar?
what is a fix
to a junkie?
it's what you are to me.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

wester (AFI)



I can feel you
waiting for me  
when the sun 
retreats to the hills and I  
below the blanket of a burning sky  
wrap myself within
embraced by dead leaves 

as the rain leaves  
trails of black down my face
and I  
creep through the twilight to that hidden place 
beyond the lonely 
I'll meet you


tonight in the whispers when no one's around  
nothing can stop us now  
tonight in the whispers where we won't be found 
nothing can stop us now
 
well, I can feel you

dreaming of me  
and the time when our steps are retraced 
and I 
creep through the twilight to that hidden place  
beyond the lonely 
I'll meet you


tonight in the whispers when no one's around  
nothing can stop us now  
tonight in the whispers where we won't be found 
nothing can stop us now
tonight in the whispers when no one's around 

nothing can stop us now  
tonight in the whispers where we won't be found  
nothing can stop us . . . .