I Wear Craters Like Badges of Honor

Light In the Sky

The daytime takes the
job of the streetlights
like it relieves the moon
and the stars
from their stations in
the night sky.
In reality the sun simply
overwhelms the luminescence
of those bodies when he
steps onto the stage
of the morningrise.
You will never be the sun
to my moon
because your daytime
is just a waiting game
just passing time until
it gets overthrown again.
Despite what you’ve been
told, this light is not
a reflection of you but
the absorption of the best
rays you ever had
and never used.
We are as different as
the times in the sky we
occupy.

Between Black&White

A man walks down the street,
watching his steps cross the
cracks in the concrete, all the while
missing the rhythm of life,
“normal life” they say, by
just a fifth of a second and
he thinks he knows things
but sometimes he’s never quiet
sure.
Well, there are times when
he clings to the vines that
hold him firm to the things
that never falter or fade.
But even then, sometimes,
he can feel his hands start to
slip.
And though he grinds his teeth
and, jawclenched, he tries
to hold on tight…
he falls.
But he continues to walk,
right in front of left, eyes
never failing to glare only at
the cracked pavement and debris
his feet walk over.
Looking neither left nor right
just onward.

And it was on this path
that he ran into me
head first into my chest as I was
busy eyeing a woman with
candy apple red hair and a black dress…
The impact was enough to
rattle my balance and in
compensating and preventing a fall
I spilled my cup of coffee down the
gutter to my left.
Anger swept over me like forest fire
madness, but I saw the kid’s eyes,
cold blue antarctica, carved out of ice,
surrounded by white, cracked red and
accented by the bags under his eyes.
They told of a great weight that sat
invisible on his hunched shoulders
I took a breath

Who are you, kid?
“Empathy and apathy, a great dichotomy.
Seeker of grace and failure of faith.”
He spoke to my shoes
What’s is this weight you seem to
carry?
“If ever there was a heart that had
grown used to breaking, I’ve got it.
With every passing moment of life,
I am the griefcarrier, the crossbearer,
the sympathy in a world where hope
is the only thing that keeps me going
sometimes. Sometimes…”
He looked me in the eyes which were blue
but in the next moment an emerald green.
” I am the envy of all the things you have
but can never be because I’m too foolish
and too hard-hearted to follow through.
I am the poison you should have drank
and the antidote for what ails you
because you, you think you’ve got it all
figured out and your rational thinking
will set you free…”
His eyes drained of color, turned to stone
and I went cold.
“But your hope for freedom are the very
chains that bind you”
Shocked, I shuddered and wondered
aloud one final question.

How is it that you know so much about me?
He laughed, sick and desperate.
“Close your eyes and shake that question
from your head.
You are so entangled in your own web of
self-absorption that you don’t even recognize your own–”
Reflection.
I was face to face with a man with sullen eyes
I raised my hand and he mimicked my actions
perfectly.
An office building, mirrored windows,
and me,
locked eye-to-eye, face to face.
Antarctica… emerald…
and now just shades of grey
between black and white.

Where the Light Shines Through

Come on all you broken people
let us gather together
We are the mortar that kisses
lip-locks the bricks
together
And the building we construct
is one with many holes.
We call them windows
because we let our
imperfections show
and so we let the light shine
through them.

Our story is a book of
many pages that bear many scars
ulcerated, thus illustrated
by the pain life gives
and we ought not be afraid
to let people read it.
As the pages turn,
they’ll see through us
only to find the words of another’s
story there to fill in the gap
where the words were burned out.

And because we are missing pieces
and to others the missing piece
we are integral to each other
if we weren’t we wouldn’t be here
but because of the stories we’ve lived
we shouldn’t be here.
Or shouldn’t just be here
But there, out there where our fingertips
reach heartstrings unmet
in the wilds, the streets, the coffeehouses
where the bricks don’t quite meet
but thank God for your place
in this wall, this building,
because we are the mortar that kisses,
lip-locks the bricks together
hopefully forever
in eternity
where the light
shines
through.

Hitting the Ground and Breaking Open Wide: An Unsent Message

I could write a million words about the way
I’m feeling but in the end it amounts to nothing.
And I’m okay with that.
I could crack my pen in half
and throw the ink down paper hallways
and it still wouldn’t matter.
My keyboard could be pounded
until the keys crack, break and cease to function
and the matter will have still remained the same.
This pain, this fire in my gut will not go away.
For the brief moment of eye contact
we communicated miles and your smile
broke a week’s worth of pain
and if only for a moment
the screaming in my head was silenced.
I’ve tried to compose myself
and tried to make my feelings well-dressed
but the tie is too tight
and it’s choking out the life
and the pressure underneath is building
and eventually I know that something is gonna break,
the floodgates would open.
Well, the water is rushing
roughshod through the valley of my mind,
filled with words, flushing out
curses and aspersions and wrecking everything,
letting it all come flying out.
So, let me lay it out for you, princess,
in the only fashion I know how
and you just see what sticks:
I know my heart breaks wide open
when I see you spilling fuel
to the fire in my gut that just won’t stop
and I’ve learned that there is no
managing this condition.
I don’t even try.
I know that when yer being yerself
I remember who you were and who yer becoming.
I know the most difficult part of this is
that we have made ourselves
silent to each other only passing small messages
that are there only so we can remember
each others presences
like we would ever forget everything between us.
There is a mountain of words there
that now divides us
as we continue on walking down that path
towards the light.
You’ve opted for that light and are seeking it
childlike instead of relying on rays
from this burnt out blacklight sunshine
and for that I could not be more thankful.
I am a poor substitute for anything in life for anyone
in most things.
I accept that as true and let Him who Is work through.
And I pray He does the same for you.
That I know more than anything else.
More than I know the feeling of tears
welling up as I type this,
as I realized this started as a simple message
about how, selfishly, I miss you
and how I fight with myself to accept
this is where you need to go
and that I must resign myself
to the one thing that has never been between us
since we met and that is
silence.