Carving through bone

House clean. oven hot. the windows open with light pouring in- warm smells of food and clove. Football chatter coming from the T.V. Tennessee scores again.
I played my guitar out on the porch for awhile. strum and hum. I need a high and low voice to back me up. A me and a you. Ive written lyrics for this im working on but they are vague. It's more the feelings. when i woke up I decided on a melody but it sounded to much like something ive been listening to all week. That happens, you hear or read something and you can't help for it to sink into you. Then you have to release it somehow. It shows up your art. Im thankful for the inspiration.
I like the sounds from outside. the birds and motors low hum, the cars that pass. I think the entire neighborhood is cooking all at once. Everything smells so good. The air and the sky is amazing.


We don't share memories of having holidays together. Not my birthday or yours, not valentines, thanksgiving, christmas, not easter, not halloween. We have between all that. The in between. We are the love in between. We have become our own holiday.
I glance over at the night stand. I can make the shadow of my watch. Something familiar. Something me, something from home.
I'm in her bed under blankets. I am wrapped safely in her lies. She is drowning in mine.
we keep breathing. now and after. Time won't wait for us.
My watch keeps the time. Its touched you, it's spent the night in your room. When i last looked at it I was with you. I'll look again someday and be somewhere else. With someone else.

I wonder how it would look worn on your wrist. Heavy and big with glowing numbers illuminate the cool darkness. hands, to count our minutes and hours to count when we meant something and when we didn't. the fall. the falling apart. when you call me I will note the time. I will remember when you say goodbye. I will say...at two o clock tomorrow i will be over you.

I don't think you ever really move on from someone. you just make room in your heart for new people.

what part of uncomplicated equation don't you understand?

what does it mean
these cold days
down south

here
to remind me
of the winter that
never happen

these mornings
with blankets covering
our skin
and scars

strawberry words for no
other reason but
to pull you
into
me

the air smells
clean
and the sun touches me
through glass
high and bright

we wake to the new
day our
lies healed
and secrets silenced

by a story
yet to be written

there will be fall out. telling you, i love you.
from saying it and then not stopping even long after it’s done. and it will be done, if it isn’t already.
I haven’t said it often. I didn’t dole those words out like the purple dinosaur you grew up with.
it wasnt a song or a poem. it just was. simple and plain and tragically beautiful.
There is fall out for bleeding in front of you. that’s why I’m here and if that’s what it takes, if that’s all it takes. I will breathe and bleed and show you the scars. i will write it all down and if it sounds redundant. I’m sorry. but I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry because there is always war with love, always the bombs and explosions in the sky, and then there is the fall out. the isolation and silence that follows. the ghosts of words. the ghosts of our lies and the truth that remains long after we’re done.

she picked me up last friday night. drove me to the beach. she said she had something to show me. we walked along the shore-line. the sky was clear and the moon was full. I liked the shimmery glow, how the light danced on the water. the waves crashed and salt-water ran over my bare feet.

she asked me what time it was. I looked at my watch and after i said, she told me to look up and i followed to where she pointed in the sky. A burst of bright light next to the moon, a vapor trail.

It’s the space shuttle she said. now, You’ll always remember this night.

I didn’t even know…. i started to say but she threw her arms around me and shhhhhed me with a kiss.

I watched the rocket flare and shooting flames. I saw the shadow racing across the light of the moon. Swollen and full.

she wants new memories in my head. she wants me to remember her when she is gone. to miss and write about her. she is all but time and space and distances now. she is getting me back for promising to make her glow. for offering more than i could give.

this night i let you win.

i liked her when she was sweet and unexplainable

The weight of winter:

Ive been invited for pancakes at my mothers on Sunday. fluffy, blueberry. All the women in my life make delicious pancakes. They bake with aprons tied and hair pulled back. I would say i prefer bacon and eggs but it lacks the charm and whimsy of gooey buttermilk batter and pretty green mixing bowls. It's just a greased up fry pan and spatula nothing poetic. something to have the morning after a night of dirty sex. pancakes are warm blankets, they are snuggling up in bed together like a Kurt Halsey drawing.

I grew up, my mother stayed at home. cooking, cleaning, caring. Always there. I thought that was everyone until about 5Th grade. Of my friends parents that were actually still together, both of them usually worked. I might be slightly needy of attention because of it.

the girlfriends Ive had. I'd never see fathers around. Step-dads at most.
This is Dan she'd say. I'd shake the guys beefy hand and automatically assume he was a creepy sex pervert after my girl-friend. I'd check her room for holes in the walls and cameras hidden in the ceiling.
I couldn't find anything here. but I'll be right back, I'll check the bathroom for you.


I'm the only daddy you'll ever need to know. I'd say.
I'd get a laugh, but some night we'll be having sex and can you guess what she'd call me?
It must be the glasses and stories and the fact i won't let her have any fun. She plays the part of spoiled brat so well, I know she isn't faking. neither am i.

but i like her when she wears her apron baking. she told me it once belonged to her grandmother and it doesn't turn me off any less. she's sweet with the little blue spoon in her hand wearing next to nothing. The apron, the socks, the undies. I'm not saying it's where she should be, but i won't say i don't think it's the hottest thing next to Georgia asphalt and maybe her in my Cowboys #9 Jersey.

It's always these little things. things like blue berry pancakes , aprons - the smell of girl. It kills me to remember that she has a weakness for Patsy Cline and old country music. and her hair clips. I'd pick one up off her night-stand sniff it, press it to my heart. they smell like metal.

Photo credits:Cheap Thursday's'
Art credits: the black apple (etsy)

slumberland:999 miles

get into work. click on computer. there is work left from yesterday and i change screens to look stuff up, i count things, i compute, i estimate, i click my mouse and move it here and there and up over there. this is how things get done. my eyes are already starting to burn. I get down by my drafting table and do 100 30 quick push-ups. blood is flowing now, all i can think about is writing. I found some pictures last night i’d like to post before someone else does. It’s frustrating when you save a picture thinking you’ll be the first to unveil it to the world. Of course, you won’t unless you were the one who took it, and all the ones i take never get re-blogged. and it’s such a shame.

It’s such a shame about us.

i do more work. distraction. I shuffle papers, write up invoices. i like this pen. it writes smooth and i like my spidery handwriting. i need an envelope. money is good. invoice + mail it = money. that’s a good thing right? Don’t let anyone tell you there isn’t money out there. It’s limitless, like everything else. The truth is everything i need I already have. It’s already in front of me. In front of you. I have everything i need. just your love…your love..where is that?

I wonder if it’s to early to log into my tumblr. Is it to early to see girls sucking big fat cock all over my screen? I can take it. My blood is flowing. im no prude. i don’t want to become numb to it. Sometimes it isn’t art, it’s just a woman with her legs spread and a dick in her mouth and it can become redundant. Is it to early? or is it just what i need.

There is a common thread but we all don’t see beauty the same way. I like a breaking heart and there are plenty of those too. I decide to log on. As i suspected the first 5 photos posted by who i “follow” are women with no clothes. white, asian, tied, kneeling down, ass up. It’s before 10 a.m. who doesnt like a morning boner. The next few posts are broken hearted and love quotes. There is no difference between the two. You are either searching, or finding, or in, or out, or missing… love. The common thread.

I like photos of food, another common. our tastes in food differ as much as our taste in art, women, porn, music. Something to bond over, something to relate to. something to cook for you, bake for you. the women who have been in my life can all make great pancakes. usually, blueberry. I wonder does she make them for him now. will this post be enough to satisfy me for awhile. I hope so. A distraction. I’m essentially getting paid to do this. Many of us are. Right now. Paid to write and post and be beautiful. art. I have no complaints. Everything i need. I already have. and once, I even had you.

it was magical. the kiss. it’s how we started things. it’s how we ended things. or did things really end. Do they ever?

why did i have to learn love from movies and television. I always wished to be like that guy running down the airplane pre take-off or jumping from a dock on to a moving ferry boat. I take the girl into my arms. I can’t be without you

she is waving goodbye with a beautiful sound track playing in the background. me, i just wave back. But i wanted to be the guy holding a boom-box over my head outside her window- In the rain. That Lloyd Dobler kid because (to know him is to love him).

the accumulation of ghosts. it’s more like that movie. pain is often involved and dialogue not unlike a kevin smith film. I am the out-takes to peoples lives. i am the one who drives her to marry someone else.

maybe it’s because I’ve always secretly rooted for the bad guys i

n movies. the villians with the cooler costumes and better entrance music, better hair. Deep down thats who the girls always wanted. I mean, if there was no bad. how would you know what good is?

in the end, you’ll see there isn’t much difference. there is good in even the most misguided of hearts. look, i’ll show you. (cue music)

re-posted from my tumblr

let it be me

Dallas-

It's been a year this week since you've gone. When i say i miss someone, I mean you. People won't ever understand me. The true silence we had between us. It's all dog talk and the most logical of thinking. Eat,sleep, watch t.v., football on Sunday. No stress. no worries. You the lucky dog and me just
lucky to have had you.

We shared the secrets and all those girls in our bed. you just sleep. you just sleep, and play and swim and eat. (we both like eating)
know that I think of you every day. that you changed me.

I pet you for the last time in that room. I felt your soft fur under my hand and took off your collar, breaking my heart. you didn't seem scared. So i wasn't. I told you i would always take care of you until the end. For the first time in my life i saw something through. I learned so much about myself because of you. I trust wearing my heart on my sleeve no matter how much it might end up hurting, no matter who's watching, listening, reading.
I wasn't losing you. I didn't lose you that day, yesterday, today. I will always miss you, always love you, you'll always be my dog and best friend. In my heart....Still, silently knowing.

by moving the stars i have found where you are

it was just a note
it was just a call

what if we wouldn't have met
what if i didn't show up
what if i didn't come over

what if you wouldn't have tempted
me

it was just a kiss
though hard
and
just a promise
though

broken

it was just this art and that
music
and your make
everything so awesome
words

it was pretty
and it wasn't so
pretty

lies aren't pretty

but
tell them to
me pretty

tell me you
still
do

Change was needed but it will never be as magical as you

I arrived home just in time to vote for change. It's going to take time though. it takes time to sink in before you really feel it. I'm totally feeling it with you. do you feel it with me?

The wedding witch:
The witch figure pictured above is the only non-money gift received. The money, it's already going to good use. In fact at this very moment an over- haul of home improvements have begun at my home. (Glow Manor), I have a generous family and good friends to thank for that. I am grateful.

The witch.....I like it very much. It's from a neighbor (back when i used to live at home) My mother showed her my save the date announcement card and it inspired her to gift us with Halloween art.
Wow, what a home run. I'm certain she had no idea that i display several of my better halloween pieces year round. The witch is going to make a great addition. (striped socks!).

Like a kid on Halloween:
She wore mouse ears with attached veil and so everyone knew. I found out if you re just married and spend your day at Disney World, at the end of the night the fireworks display is for you. Did you know that? all for you.
Everyone is also telling you Congratulations. The cast members are supposed to, but I mean everyone. I didn't think Disney could get any more sugary sweet and happy. (it can)
I was first in line for everything, no waiting, I was prepared to wait - i always wait. This time no wait. I didn't get to spend the night at Cinderellas castle but a cast member happily handed me fast passes about 5 minutes after i walked into the park.
(cast member skipping over and seeing mouse ear veil) "How long have you two been married?"
" On Halloween, not even 24 hours, it's also my first time here "
"Well, congratulations, how would you guys like some fast passes on Mickey?"
"eeeeeeeeeeeeee"

would you tell me if it felt any different?

Ive done good
and bad
learned to wait
my turn
in line
and not get
upset

i feel i
changed
things
with you.
for all of us.
i promised
to be better
next time

there is no next time
but i like to tell myself
there will be
it helps fill the pages
in my notebook

the sticker says
i voted
and i vote
you always
let me.

my luck has
been cold at times
but running hot
as of late

baby,
Ive said to
many things
i wish i
didn't

and i miss
calling her
baby
(things like that, i wish she wouldn't know)
and baby
i forgave you
only
because you
you wanted
it
not because
you deserved it

and i deserve it even less
so, who
are we kidding?

we share things that no longer
matter
and yet it all matters.
the
birthdays
and babies
our special days
just silly games

baby, id say save
them
for the other one

but, baby,......

I know if i say baby again
it will wear itself out
and become meaningless
like how my loving you
looks so pretty on
paper

real life
isn't fairy tales
but should be
it's where everything
changes
even if it means breaking
the rules
to make
things work

it's where i live with you
and force you to listen to
my sad song
music
because
we are just
that fucking
happy
we won