Formative Years

A time for dying your hair too much,
where regular heartache is expected
and you don’t believe in limits.
You go kind of crazy in the summer
because moments never end
until you find yourself sitting back in class.

Sneaking bottles of Boone’s on the weekend
and feeling the crushing weight,
waiting for some mysterious future.
You fall in love promiscuously
because your eyeliner will never be thicker
and you’re anxious to prove you’re alive.

Experimentation is the road to finding yourself
or at least that’s how you rationalize
the blackouts and the boys.
The best years of your life
slipping past in a haze of recreational smoke
Nostalgia will color these years.



A jagged landscape in the hills,
worn and gray like an aging whore,
track marks and train tracks dotting
a horizon no ones cares to explore.
Pride abandoned, hope is lost
in this decaying matter, without grace,
black tar dripping, rivers neverending
promise vanished from this place.
Needling dependence upon this land
trees of dreams moldering
left to burn in the blazing sun
children and families smoldering.

Old Habits

Remember when you crashed into me?
A bruise strewn body with a beaten heart
filled with an insatiable desire for love.
The girl you once met has gone,
though the woman left in her place finds evidence,
clues that spell out an incomprehensible simplicity
that is known as love, that galaxy of multitudes.
There is a faint glimmer of hope residing,
glittering in the most tempting of fashions.
Time has delivered us both to the same place
slightly wrinkled, seldom worn and leaking warmth.
Wariness be damned, old habits are enduring.

Growing up means that we are hurt,
vigorously and repeatedly ripped apart,
sometimes deeply maiming ourselves
until the day that we learn not to pick our scabs.
She no longer pokes her wounds to discover
just how intensely she can feel pain.
She continues to rush in her pursuit,
to fulfill the longing that refuses to cease,
wistfully romantic and recklessly restless.
These are the keepsakes she left behind.

Defining Moment

The spaces in between lack definition,
safety steeped in ambiguity.
Questions ignored, despite the building tension.
Who wants to ruin a good thing?
One of us must go first, those tentative steps.
Stationary has never satisfied for long.
Take a breath and say it, do it, show it.
Put your fear on the back burner and dive.