Dictionary Entries And Clock Faces

There’s not a dictionary in the world
With a definition for the word, “love”
Noun, verb, and sometimes expletive.
There are just too many uses
Explanations and excuses
For this semantic domain
That scrapes the the rock surface
Of my heart
The reason the busker sings a sad refrain

I try to stay away from staring
At the television screens
That teaches us all that
For every single guy there’s a bevy
Of swans that that were never ugly ducklings
With roses in their teeth
I need to find a little reprieve
From this cultural obsession
That we’re meant for indiscretion
It twists me up and forces my retreat

Remembering days going by
With the dismissing wave
Of the clock hands
Nevertheless, I try to understand
That time is just a countdown
And we’re never going to cut its pace

Construct to deduct life
Attached to dollar amounts
Useless things we spend
What we earn, how we live
I’m just reaching for
A lover or a friend

Yesterday is here again
You’re teaching me how to inhale
And exhale the emotions
I can’t calculate
Mirror or reciprocate
It’s clear as the cloudy sky
Outside my windows now
I can only see so far
But not the end.

I dropped a raft into a sea
Of salty tears and sweat
Rolling rapids of my regrets
Avoiding rocks left to run me aground
My heart still pounds everyday
At the thought of the sound

I don’t believe in fairly tales
But I watch a lot of movies
Where the weird guy
Gets the girl and she upturns his world
I thought I had that once
But I flipped only to land
On my chivalry with shivering hands

My skull is a glass case
Where you can see the jumbled
Chains and cables
Wrapped around crystal balls
That only see the past

And some of them still show your face
I thought I loved but
Upon reflection in the mirror
I realized I despised
The man that I had become
My goal is to leave a smoking gun
In case you return for evidence
Of your past crimes

Burn it to the ground like a barn
Gather the children for the ugly swan song
We’re just livestock in a small pen
And I don’t think I’ll feel that way again




There are days where I lose just a little more faith in humanity and, most times, I could not tell you why. My experience with the general populace as well as at the individual level has not gone a long way to prove to me otherwise. At the same time, I must lose faith in myself because I am part of the mass of humanity I learning to like less and less. Drawn from the same dust as the rest, I find I am trying to mentally scrub myself clean of all the things I see in other people I don’t want to see in the mirror every day as I prepare to join them in the daily grind where people share the poison of other peoples’ lives; they gossip, they lie, and they treat each other like dirt under the ruse of friendly alliance.

I find myself growing tired of this consistently nagging idea in my head that says my view on the world is wrong. It’s not Biblical, it’s not Christ-like, it’s not something else completely good and altruistic. It does not feel like there are a lot of people out there who are for me. I have been betrayed too many times in too many ways to believe I’ll ever fall in love again. I’ve seen too many people fall from the pedestal they’ve been put on (not necessarily self-imposed) to believe in heroes. I’m a cynic with trust issues which manifests itself in personality traits I’ve found most people do not understand or are somehow offended by it. Maybe it’s a subconscious method of keeping people at a distance; if that’s true, I think I have built up a curriculum vitae of experiences that warrant such behavior. Only fools fail to learn from experience.

What’s been my experience? I’ve been deemed unworthy of being part of peoples’ lives more than once. I’ve been abandoned by people who should have cared about me. This is not pity-seeking. The biggest trigger of my aggression and anger is no one takes the time to understand, no one seeks an explanation, no one wants to know, because when you look long into the abyss, the abyss looks back into you. I am sick and tired of fighting with myself, with other people because it only fuels my misanthropy; it brings out the worst in me and I already live with enough depravity so I’m trying my best to keep these sentences clear and coherent because I can feel it.

The burning coal in the pit of my stomach is rising up into my chest as I think of all the banal and pointless things people go on and on about. I’m sick of hearing about drunken weekends and stupid, narrow-minded opinions. I am, honestly, so bereft of heart lately that I can lock myself up in my apartment and shut out the world. Two doors, two locks, and a whole lot of books can keep me occupied.

On the other side of the coin, I am alone most of the time, anyway. Even with people around me, I find it difficult to relate. Ever felt alone in a crowd? That’s me. Then a sliver of doubt slips under my skin and I start feeling that aching loneliness that only comes from having experienced relationships. I have friends but they’re all married, moved away, and have schedules to keep. I do not have such burdens. I answer to no one but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could share it with someone other than a blog or a notebook.

But if I speak will you judge? I did not come here to care what you think about me. Not anymore. Most peoples’ opinions aren’t worth shit anymore because there’s no mileage behind them.

If only I could rewire everything to make it more clear.

Seam-Ripped Subconscious


I have not been happier than I have been in my dreams, lately. It seems that every waking hour I have spent less than ecstatic about my existence has pushed my subconscious into fits of dreams where I am smiling against the tide of my cheeks. My heart knows no pain or sadness when in the throes of the illusion conjured up by the empty space in my heart that has been there for the better part of this year. It’s a wound that won’t heal; it’s a space that is never filled because I won’t let it. Partially because I have no reason and also because I’m terrified of having it all taken away again. My conscious mind knows the force of the rug being pulled out from under it before it happens and my heart-the ballast-keeps me stable when it happens.

My dreams have been about being in love a lot lately. I don’t know why. I know there is a part of me that thinks I will be healed by finding the one that I find in my dreams but the reality is that she is just a dream. Dreams exist to keep the brain alive when the body is asleep. I wish I could tell you I believed that was its only purpose but I’ve seen too many things projected against the back of my eyelids that told me something insightful to simplify everything to so fine a point. My mind is expressing the things that I refuse to let get in my way right now.

More than anything I want to be left alone, but this conflicts with the desires of my heart which filter into my mind and soul. It’s not good for a man to be alone and I have been alone with my thoughts for a long time. My heart is still mending from the damage of a hard blow dealt from the last time I dove into that deep, warm water of someone else’s arms and I’m okay with that. There’s a part of me that wishes the rest of me knew that it needed to heal. But still I dream about women that I’ve never met and the thing my life seems to lack the most. Love. It’s a concept I don’t like to touch on but it’s a need of every human being. I am not beyond analyzing the fact that I am still human because my brain does it’s best to remind me of that fact.

These days are filled with a lot of sadness and depression. Sometimes, it’s just a melancholy buzz in the back of my mind. When I sleep I see and feel things I don’t feel when I’m awake. So, when my eyes open and I ascend into consciousness from my reverie there’s a certain darkness that sets in. I am no longer elated by the eyes of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, her presence, her touch. She was there and she was as real as the pillows in which I rest my head on. But the hook sinks in and rips the seam from illusion to reality and I’m left in the aftermath wondering what I did to deserve such cruelty.

I wonder when dream ceases being dream and becomes reality.
And then I swallow it down because it’s what I think I don’t want right now.