i suppose theres something i did find wonderful about the wilderness
even if its endless sea of trees tend to make me sick to my stomach
feet flat on the ground i could turn right around encircled by green
lying dead on my back if i survive this night i will learn to love again
there are just too many ways to question your motions and motives
under gods living tent of trees and this dead space of the starlit sky
that night maybe i did give something back to the earth, my youth
i stomped that out like the dying fire crying out to end his agony
but none of this is what is so wonderful about the horrible forest
it was a man-made miracle and the sound of folk singers saving my life
through the wires of a machine filling my ears with hopeful thoughts
right before and after i understood that one day will end all others
everything i could ever learn would never prepare me for tomorrow

today i choked on the ashes of tomorrow
but i didnt care that it had ever been said
yesterday i engraved my name on every tombstone
where i read aloud my hopes and dreams
moments ago i shook hands with my own ghost
and told him that it didnt matter being transparent
in a couple of years ill be witnessing my own funeral
to laugh at how hard people are trying not to laugh
right now i am flying through the clear glass window of whatever
waving and blowing kisses to my former fans and photographers
every day
any time
every feeling
any place
you will find me
lying face first in your beautiful bed of roses
just to notice that the bed is not mine.

**retrospect**
i paid my life away in three easy installments of 99.95
and prayed to your asphyxiated god with my membership fees
so do send me every tape on how to be a success in life
how?
how did you know i was awake and overweight?
please.
show me your miracle cure for hair and love
bury me in the pile of nudity and self-respect
gouge my eyes with every product you can shit out
sex money power and politics
all fed through a meat grinder.
if this is how its going to end,
i think ill get off here.
no really.
make it stop.

a haiku written during freshman year:

My wings are taken
I feel lost in the big world
I am left behind

a haiku written now:

wasted ambition
everything i touch crumbles
but still im sorry

there are alot of things im going to miss.
things ive once taken for granted.
It happens every so often,
a little thing i call progress
taking the tinniest of steps
being cautious of our footing
taking the deepest of breaths
slowly down the narrow road

like an old film go our lives
flickering strips of light
witnessing the past
through dirty glass
carefree days and
nights actually slept
blurred to
dormant days
and fucked up nights
Oh things were just so simple then
and suddenly development
our brains could hold more than we thought
and we thought and thought until it hurt
yeah repetition gets old pretty quick
and moving on seemed to fill the blanks
while we left the past to rot in the corner

no longer can we play favorites in life
for they'll one day lose all meaning
i'm done trying to gather up the pieces
i know for sure that its like clockwork
i will never know the feeling it once brought me
a few favorite songs have lost their rotation
some needy friends have come and gone
and a total outlook on life has led us to loss
now all thats left is the blazing glory
that we once felt was necessary
an amber flood exeunt

oh what messures we take
to realize that we are alone
down the narrow road
we are all that we have
intentional it may be
i am constantly losing everything
but failure has never left me
life is anything but a dream

happy little trees on my happy little canvas
god bless us and this wilting landscape
chalk and charcoal shade the shadows
to burn and bruise depict decay
where every stroke is a pat on the back
and vinyl etchings form harmonic dilution

here, the season paints itself into the ocean
polluting even the clearest of shallow waters
in the earliest hours of this godforsaken morning
smokestacks billow through the variable clouds
debris rises up through the width of the waves
and an SOS submerges, never to be seen

but there will still be scavengers coming and going
fluttering away from these pale opportunists
viewing the sea set flame to the cotton candy horizon
it opened its mouth and welcomed the triumph
coughing up the mute colors that painted the sky
shipwrecks dont save themselves now do they?