rock, paper, scissors

he had to have been at least 80,
his veiny, shaking hands
tossing salads and flipping burgers.

i worked for him as a waiter -
low pay and crappy hours.
but i always got the days off i wanted.

one time i asked for a saturday
so i could go see a concert downtown.
the day was also his anniversary.

'let's rock, paper, scissors for it,' he said.
my rock beat his shaking paper,
and for a minute i felt guilty.

another waiter tried the same thing
when no one could fill for them but the old man.
rock, paper, scissors, shoot ...

i wasn't surprised he picked paper.

running away

i stare into the night,
which always seems darker
on the outside looking in.

a streetlamp down the road
marks my first destination
on this harrowing journey.

a quick check of my motives
and a few deep breaths later,
i enter the dark silence.

never ending

how does one find purpose
in a boring nine-to-five job?
there is no deep meaning
in an everyday commute.

depression begins to sink in,
for tomorrow will be the same.
and the day after, and the next ...
what is it all for? to what end?

dissect my life into simple pieces,
such as work and livelihood ...
with a few moments of joy
strewn like sprinkles on a cake.

few and far between they are,
not enough to consider happiness.
so i live in the here and now ...
trying to convince myself it's enough.

wipers

the rain goes 'pitter-patter'
on the hospital room's window
as i wonder if the man in the bed
is scared of what comes next.

he's remembering his life,
which seems to be nothing but
one giant, momentary wisp
trailing throughout his mind.

driving home i can only blankly imagine
what must be going through his head.
it isn't even raining anymore,
but my wipers continue their tireless motion.

ride

sometimes i stop and wonder
if they're truly the one
if these are just growing pains
or if we're finally done.

the sizzle's turned to fizzle
is this ride already through?
heart and mind tormented
what ever shall i do?

when i wake up in the morning
and see them lying there.
i lie and say i love you
for the truth i cannot bear.

far from normalcy

i awake to my blaring clock,
and stare around my messy room
that i've promised myself i'd clean
about seven or eight times now.

i make a pb and j for lunch,
for the sixth time this week.
its taste loses something every day,
like a fading pair of jeans.

the hardest part of my day
is knowing i still have a long way to go,
before missing you isn't a part
of my normal, everyday routine.

sweet dreams

she's just there before me,
almost as if she was real.
her mouth is something i see,
but never something i'll feel.

this is the place where,
reality succumbs to dreams.
this is the place that,
hopefulness reigns supreme.

some starving part of my brain
concocts this little charade.
but when the sun comes up,
i feel alone and betrayed.

when i realize i can't have her,
my chest swells with despair.
the sweet, innocent dream,
becomes another nightmare.

doomed

petty, low, base feelings,
destroy us at our cores.
they cause us to fight,
and lead personal wars.

all lead down the same road,
to despair and regret.
remember how to be happy?
or did you just forget?

instincts shrouded in culture,
our nature hidden behind the glass.
shatter it and you will see ....
but you can't, alas.

fly

only the pure of heart
can fly over the seas,
on wings of fearlessness
with courage for a breeze.

for they have something
we all go without.
where they have faith,
we have doubt.

a little nugget in our head,
screaming "no, you can't."
impossible is just a seed
growing into a full-fledged plant.

this attitude keeps you grounded,
forever attached to the floor.
if only you learned to let go,
then you, too, could someday soar.

an old crush

a crush in 11th grade,
blonde, large eyes,
sat in front of me
in 3rd period history.

one day she asked me
'do you know when we get out?'
the clock tick-tocked,
but my heart was stopped.

i'd like a crush like that again,
even if i never did talk to her.
i'd like to feel alive like that again,
even if i get hurt in the end.

an actor's death

he spent his entire life acting,
pretending to be happy or sad.
he even died a few times,
in war trenches and beds.

how tragic it must be,
to watch those movies now.
his name in the credits,
like a gravestone to his career.

(sac)religious haiku

you live by god's words,
and you let him guide your way.
what if it's not real?

meth addiction

a cold, dead, white husk
constantly crawling at me,
inch by inch,
and i keep on running.

i gain some distance,
however little, every day.
but when it's time to sleep,
it's back there, getting closer.

is it gaining? falling behind?
the darkness is impenetrable.
inevitably, out of nowhere,
a vice-like grip gets a hold of me.

i punch it in the face
until my knuckles bleed.
but still it hangs on
and i'm dragged under again.

mug

a newspaper sits on the floor,
propped up like a tent.
its pages spilled everywhere,
like guts from a sliced stomach.

only the comics page lies
on the kitchen table.
one headline reads:
boy found dead in ditch.

on the way to the recycle bin
it slips and is blown away by the wind.
a circle left behind by a wet coffee cup
frames the mug shot of the boy.

I fucking hate grocery shopping

The whiny little shits
in the cereal aisle
who don't get want they want
and need to get slapped ...

And the ones who trail
behind their parents silently -
even through the candy section -
They've probably been slapped today.

The waddling pregnant woman
buying a case of High Life.
Who's that white trash kidding,
we know it's not for her husband.

The black thug eyeing an endcap
of Chap-Stic and hand lotion...
He's really eyeing that old woman
whose purse is barely hanging on.

A 30-something dude with long hair,
cross around his neck, holding a Bible,
wearing sandals with socks.
Fucking born-again Christian.

Middle-aged blonde in a skirt
up to the bottom of her ass.
I wonder who she's fucking.
Personal trailer? Her pool boy?

Disgusted, I go to check out,
where a sweet girl rings me up.
She probably wants to kill me
for delaying her lunch break.

Walking out I pass the ice,
and see my reflection in the glass.
This guy - this guy right here -
He's just fucking pathetic.

A Different Kind of Pain

Started smokin' when she left me,
Now it's one or two packs a day.
Mom says it's not good for me,
But I do it anyway.

Tradin' one hurt for another,
First my heart and now my lungs.
If only I was stronger,
If only I was young.

Like I'm lost inside a forest,
Surrounded by decay.
The sun is slowly fading,
I light one up to show the way.

Fake It

There's this little thing I do,
with everyone I know.
I smile and laugh and joke.
I put on a show.

Happy and jovial and together,
that's what they think of me.
When behind closed doors I cry,
until about 2 or 3.

I know I'm not the only one,
who chooses to live this way.
I'm your average, sad bloke,
Trying to get through the day.

Pursuit of Happiness

Chasing it like a dream
that slips through your mind
like sand through your fingers,
yearning to be forgotten.

Seemingly unattainable
like a gust of wind
blowing through your open hands,
never to be stopped and grabbed.

It scampers and hides
down the rabbit hole
that is your soul,
yearning to be found.

that feeling you get

you know the feeling you get,
when you are so parched
you can't even swallow,
and then have a glass of ice cold water?

you know the feeling you get,
when you've been on your feet
for the entire day,
and finally get to sit down?

you know the feeling you get,
when you tell someone close
a big, fat, juicy secret,
and your chest feels suddenly lighter?

that is pretty much how i feel
when i watch you sleep,
feel your touch,
and hear your voice.

little flower

she walks through the garden,
slowly, and with care.
seeking no particular thing,
just looking here and there.

rows of roses and beds of buttercups
extend in every which way.
but what this girl is looking for,
not even she can say.

humming, ambling,
dreaming all the while.
when suddenly she spots,
a mound of dirt in a pile.

a few defiant, withered petals
stared her in the face.
so sad and pathetic
in such a beautiful place.

so when she scooped it from the dirt,
held it close and hummed a song,
that little flower finally knew,
it had found a place to belong ...