It's Not Reminiscing If You Wouldn't Go Back

I have been a shell of a soul,
a wanting well, a bottomless whirlpool.
I have known the gnawing nothing,
Been a tongueless, toothless vacuum.
I have lived through settle-for-anything,
Lived long enough to give myself this gift:
I have taken in just enough
To be empty, and hungry, but picky.

Rorschach and Juliet

I doubt that I remember the first time
I saw a beautiful face,
But I think I remember the first time
I saw a face as beautiful.
I wondered when I would be old enough
To date a woman like that.
To this day, when I see a beautiful face
It causes me to question.
I wonder what her favorite subject
In school used to be,
Or whether she would still have children
If she knew she had a choice,
Or if she could suggest a better way to write
Than starting with "I remember,"
Or whether she knows what I do
On the internet,
and whether my motorcycle is cursed,
So I will never find an empty road.

#WeCanLandOnACometButICant

I remember when there were stars.
I remember looking at them,
and then being too busy.
I remember looking for them,
and seeing only an aqueous blur.
I think I could see them now,
If I could remember to look—
If I could remember to stay still
To do anything but gaze into your eyes
and wonder why I can't find what I lost,
Or why we haven't replaced it,
Or how creepy I must be coming off right now.
I have found no answers there,
Only more difficult questions,
The kind I can never seem to ask aloud.
We can land on a comet,
But I can't even land on my feet,
Falling into chaos
and a deep blue sea
Teeming with life
Not my own.

Lies My Devices Told Me, Pt. 2

My phone says I am out of minutes.

Sounds ominous,

But what it thinks it means

Is that I can no longer talk to people,

and a mere cover story that is

For the bigger lie, the salesmanship,

the fortune-seeking foray into flattery—

Implying that I know how to talk to people

In the first place.

Lies My Devices Told Me, Pt. 1

The camera always lies.

It doesn't add ten pounds,

Or affix funny filters.

Photoshop is a mere fib

Next to the lies of the lens,

Which says that you are visible,

That it is even possible

To see or look at people.

You can only see a body.

You can only know a person,

Or maybe, if you're lucky,

You can understand.

Glass Half Broken

If wishes and hopes
Were bishops and popes,
We'd be knee-deep in goop,
With more chiefs than soup—
An ill-starred cohort.
Life's more brutish and short
and less Harry Potter.
(I've known chasers and beaters.)
I don't use fractions on water,
Just milliliters.

Give the First Try Nine Lives

There's not a single thing I've done,
Or seen, or heard, or said
That sets me above what anyone
Could manage before bed.
I don't just rise.  I rise and fall,
Not the man I want to be.
I'm not sure I'm a man at all,
But I'd need a lobotomy
To replace my brain with another,
Start feeling again, even cry
Before I sought out a wannabe mother
and gave in to the old second try.

It Isn't You [It Is You (It Isn't Just You)]

You're not “someone I can talk to.” I'm just talking.

I never did learn shame, discretion, or inhibition.

And sure, I'm comfortable enough around you to nap,

But that doesn't mean a thing; I didn't sleep in your lap.

I trust my sleeping safety to my girth and my wheeze,

and all those times I shook Death's hand at cocktail parties.

I did wake up and have to ask what time it is,

But never know; I usually wake up and think that I'm still a kid.

In short, don't go reading into anything I do.

It isn't you. It is you. It isn't just you.

To a Girl at Safeway, Whose Time I Wasted

I have misread, miss-stepped, and misquoted.
My demons have grown scratchy-throated
From the smoke I've been blowing 'bout being improved,
But I oft' spend the half-minute that I need to choose
You as the best of ten years of mistakes.
It was honestly made, with the lowest of stakes.
No one was left hurt when all was done...

...and it really did seem like you'd be fun.

The Only Part of Romance I Remember How to Do

I wish I hadn't done some of what I did.

I wish you hadn't done most of what you did.

I wish we hadn't done a single thing we did.

I wish you didn't exist.

The problem isn't what we did, or what we do,

Or even the fact that you exist.

It's just that that I don't know any way to

Forget about it.

Results of the Experiment were Unrepeatable

I have gotten into trouble

Wanting to be different,

Wanting to be better,

Wanting to be something.

I have gotten into trouble

Wanting to believe,

Because there is a river wide enough.

There is a mountain I can't climb,

and just because I did it

Doesn't mean it's not impossible.

Take Me To Your Leader, Pt. 4

Some say that apes slowly grew into man.

Some say things were more organized—of a plan.

Some men are deplorable, while others are laudable.

I'm something else. God (or chance) called an audible.

Broken Glass, Broken People

If you don't understand, then you can't comprehend
All the lies told to eyes by the mirror and the lens.
You don't recognize my person, just a body and a face,
A house, or perhaps a prison—a place—
A dilapidated shack I didn't ask to inherit,
A mere maladaptive manufacturing defect.
You can't begin to meet, or even to see me
Until you read.

Beauty/Beast, or Little Miss Belle the Impaler Visits Waterloo

I know you as beauty; I know you as beast.
I know you by reputation, at least.
I've heard that you rip; I've heard that you tear
With the pearliest gleam of young teeth in your hair.
I've heard you befuddle; I've heard that you lie.
I've been warned that you always smell blood on new guys.
I doubt we're well metered;  I doubt we rhyme.
I doubt I'll convince you I'm not worth the time.
I'm sure you'll dare, and I'm sure you'll deign,
But you'll find I'm a bit of a sponge for pain.
You can play to take, and I'll play for keeps.
It's only a game if you cannot weep.

Sir Isaac Newton Would Dig It

As a male, I'm a failed silver-tongued salesman

Who could ply minds with lies that only sound right,

But my sin of sloth saves me from doing work that's worse.

I'm not just fallen; I've hit every branch on the way down.

I used to be arrogant, advanced, ahead of my age.

I grew to be both proud and guilty about my gifts;

Had prodigious percentage of those pounded out, was still prolific.

I haven't just fallen; I've really fallen off.

Once a nerd nursing a nascent, narcotic need to be normal,

Stripping myself off to sell off everything that separates me,

I have taken a turn toward taking time to track down solitude.

I guess you could say I've fallen off the bandwagon.

Half a Hermit Speaks (Again)

I almost worry that I've been too quickly smitten

By eyes that well watched the world's story written,

By the charitable heart that lies below that sour face,

By creating a problem in my life that I didn't create.

I want you to ask if I always fall for someone older.

I want to tell you that I fall for beauty, when I get bolder.

I hope I can help you find the companion you're looking for

In another,

Because we are never, ever, ever

Moving in together.

Half a Hermit on the Seductiveness of Solitude

It's not that I go out of my way not to talk to you.

It's not that I don't want to talk today.

It's not that I don't want to talk again.

It's not your fault that I'm an extraterrestrial,

Perpetually unable to agree

On anything that humans actually believe.

I'm just overly attracted to a life

Where hours don't turn into the assembly line

At an outrage factory.

Who's not with me?!