SHOT IN THE DARK
i’ll call it a shot in the dark. i tried but i missed the mark. you know i talk a lot of talk. i’ll call it a waste of time and you’ll say were we wasting yours or mine? you know i’ve got a shifting, shaking spine. you know i’ve got an ever-changing mind. i will call my friends. it’s just my luck, i’m locked out again and you could let me in but i think i’ll just let myself down again. i don’t want to wait anymore.
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE
i don’t want to tell a lie, i spent the season watching out my window and i didn’t see you pass by. i don’t want to tell the truth, that all you want to do is talk shit about yourself. i don’t want to live my life staring in to the blank eyes of electronics. i don’t want to wake one night to find that you’re gone. whenever you go wherever you go, i will try to find you. so whenever you go wherever you go, don’t lock the door behind you. i don’t want to tell a lie so i just won’t say anything while you cover your face in makeup so you look like the girls on tv. we learned how to weigh ourselves down and we do it on repeat.
i’ll learn the history of the world some time before february and i’ll take small steps as i go, i am cautionary. i’ll read yesterday’s news, the stories they never change. i could save seventy-five cents but i like to check it just the same. you’ll follow a concrete path past buildings that are built to last. you know we’re not made of steel, we’re not quite as secure as that. head down a marked off map directing through the years and you’ll sleep soundly on mattresses and sleeping pills. i’ll learn the history of the world sometime before february and i’ll take small steps as i go, i am so ordinary. i’ll look at myself in reflective surfaces as i walk home past parked cars and storefront windows. my heart is heavy, my head is full of thoughts you’re probably better off not to know.
the abandoned buildings on the 101, some half-gone, some standing strong but empty, i could say they’re just like me. and all that empty space inside my head, on my bedroom wall or in my bed, they’re just like me. and you could say it’s just like me to think so. i’m living in the space below city debris and dust that disappeared like footsteps in the snow.
i didn’t even realize my ears were ringing. i was missing all the subtle things, all the birds that were singing out your window. i kept straining to hear cause i know you can hear it through the city sounds, all those cars that are driving around, your neighbor playing disco, you can hear his bass beat through the floor. there’s not much room to breathe, i don’t blame you for wanting to leave. you can see it through the city smog, all those clouds that are rolling along. we get home at dusk and we leave again at dawn. there’s not much room to breathe, i don’t blame you for wanting to leave and i won’t ask you to stay with me. i’d like to gather dust like a library book on a back shelf does, so you could open me up and see when i last checked out. you’d like to fade away, it’s a long way down and your words might not carry, so you’ll just trail off now. i’ll pretend it’s as simple as state of residence or state of mind or asking you not to leave me behind.
strung together sentences, they waver in the wind. i speak in cliched words and phrases. i might as well admit i’m predictable and trite. you’ve got backbone and light. i watch you trace the outline of all that you’re surrounded by and i couldn’t trace a straight line even if i tried. a photo at the ocean of your name in the sand. we place weight in words and we do what we can but let’s give credit where credit’s due. i might try my best but i’ve got nothing on you. no i couldn’t trace a straight line even if i tried. unravel our stories like a spool of thread. we’ll start with the songs that we both sing and the books that we’ve both read.
the weather never really mattered, it was just something there was to talk about. we fall in to habits and patterns and there’s not much that we can do about it. rearrange your room again. i want to live somewhere as small as i feel when i fall asleep or wake up. do you remember how it feels to fall? do you remember anything at all? and i never asked you what’s the matter. we were taught not to talk about all the things that realy matter. stare straight ahead at the screen and block it out. i’ve got phantom pains but it’s no consolation. take the car out to the highway, look for faded constellations. i remember how it feels to fall, do you remember anything at all? your bloody feet on the hospital carpet. your scratched up arm. our body heat and an old car with the heater on. i can’t stop the cold fronts from coming our way, but through all the bad weather, i’ll stay.
SELL THE HOUSE
pack up all your things in boxes. it’s time that we add this place to the list of empty houses. and all my signatures and secret messages in the hole at the bottom of the staircase, in pencil on the wall, in cement in the driveway, they won’t be there long after all. sentimental objects make me feel so small. we’re always living beyond our means. well all i need is a phone call. all i need right now is a phone call. and all your notebooks, paintings on the wall, your mother’s things in the basement, where will we keep them all? don’t be hurt by these things that i do, i put my nose in a book and pretend i can’t hear you. it’s not a matter of you having to prove that this was the best that you could do.
KEEP YOUR KEEPSAKES
i’d like a picture of the picture hanging on the fridge by the red light that you put in the light fixture where you’re sitting in the backyard smoking cigarettes. call it a fracture or a fissure. i could say the world split open but we know it didn’t. well let me exaggerate, we’re living in the same golden state in more ways than one, but i haven’t seen you in so long. and we’ll try our best not to waste away. put our sorrows to a tune in hopes that they’ll fade. we can count the miles or list the things we have to say. and we’ll keep talking about the glory days. well i didn’t want to leave but i didn’t want to stay. looking back might lead down a lonely path but i still find myself walking that way. not much is different but not much is the same.
ROLL FOR DAMAGE
on the way home take the long way. i go way out, past where the water breaks. on the weekend you like to treat yourself. in the mornings i sleep in and let the coffee make itself. i never wanted to give all i had to you. i never wanted to give everything i had to you. on the way home all these freeways look the same. take the long way, i know i’ll get there some day.