flicker, fade, run to hide
this memory screams louder than the noise of that missed subway train

waiting on silence
as the dissapearing act begins
lost in the city of millions
cloaked in the obvious disguise

look left, turn right
as the Q train approaches with it’s humming purr, it’s gentle rumble rubs just the right spot

sitting surrounded by the sucked me in
wishing for that finish of the hot shower cleansing me of the city filth

pretty girl, long lost boy, innocence perpetuated in the miniature I heart NYC cap. has he lost his soul yet or is he still disillussioned enough to dream?

lights whiz by, glances turn away
fingers gingerly strumming the keys of the mini almost computer
“Do not lean on the door”
trouble lurks outside the gap

gap between the breathing dragon and the one may never know
the hunger gnawing at the rotting esophagus

and she paws at the corner of the music video distracing the journey to her magical land of cherub faced kisses

the only one that listens, the only one that hears
you think it will all be all right
when the ignorance goes away

obvious blinding fact of the time to go now
i want to say goodbye forever
but i sit in my silence listening to the deafening noise

this air pollution that reverberates off the empty walls
that are filled with the sighing indifference
i try to quiet my ears and the sounds in between
these breaths of hope or that which may

hoping that the gnawing will dissipate
this isn’t what i thought it would be
maybe i’m the lost cause

on the streets of manhattan today, walking aimlessly to catch the $10 bus, i saw an old friend.  an old flame, who i haven’t seen purposefully for years.  in the middle of manhattan we meet, chat under the broken umbrella, share niceties and part ways.  i smile when he says “you look great”, dripping wet and covered in my NYC way.   “You have a certain glow.” he says,  a phrase thats been repeated often recently.  a relative stranger i met in LA last week acknowledged the same.  As we sat watching the sunset sipping from the $100 bottle of wine he turns to me and says, “you sit here in your appropriately tattered jeans and old navy t-shirt and no make-up and are by far the most radiant woman here”.  goes to show, money doesn’t make you beautiful.  its something on the inside, something more valuable than dollars or the bottom line.  is it something you can fake?  trick yourself in to believing happy just by smiling deeply on the inside?  one may never know. in the meantime…

im enjoying the changes i’ve created and looking forward to the subtleties that follow.

vibrating beast beneath me 
surrounds the sounds of the humming crowd
coasting almost quietly
gliding on the air of the cloud

this ship has sailed
and carries me off to never neverland
floating in my high
drug induced euphoria

tomorrow, my favorite day of the week
soon in it’s faraway timezone
“I’ve got to get there”, she says in her impatient fury

the pause seems endless 
trapped in this choking in between
soon makes me grin like that silly cheshire cat
the glowing eyes and sideway smile

tomorrow,
come quickly
then come again

all at once, this phrase fills my brain. the first song plays and seems to ring the loudest with deafening clarity

“and all at once the crowd begins to sing
sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same”
~ the fray

But wait there’s more…

“which way will you run
when it’s always all around you
and the feelin’ lost and found you again
a feelin’ that we have no control”
~jack Johnson

And as the song carries on…

“all at once
I break my silence
all at once
there’s no more hiding
all he wants is to
show us how he feels”
~ pete yorn

i can still feel you, and i think i might let myself

can you look at a picture and create the story?
  what does it say?
can you read between the lines to see what’s really there?
  are you sure?
can you skip the good parts just to get to the ending?
  would you?
can you dream in black in white or only in color?
  what was the question again?

and in the wake of the darkness
the lack of sleep overwhelms
as this empty void beside me grows

attempting to fill the gapping wound
gently removed with the dull blade
found on the end of the table

can you see me now with your closed eyes bleeding?
through this painful sleep
we shall awake on the other side
rested

standing on your head again
flipped upside seems more favorable
opposed to the opposite
awkward awareness of clarity in the bemusement


the blurry windows covered in snowflakes
await the angels we’ve yet to make
there’s still time to create that one last


someday is always the wonder
yesterday will never be again
tomorrow and there after
the biggest question mark

standing on your head again
flipped upside seems more favorable
opposed to the opposite
awkward awareness of clarity in the bemusement


the blurry windows covered in snowflakes
await the angels we’ve yet to make
there’s still time to create that one last


someday is always the wonder
yesterday will never be again
tomorrow and there after
the biggest question mark