yah i'm roaming through this city
looking for some place to cry
someplace to try my new voice
somewhere to live, anywhere to lie
i'm looking up at you, trying to see why
you wanna' walk on all over top of me
i know you wanna laugh at me until i die
you wanna' hit me again, you wanna' make me fly
something doesn't fit right in here
the puzzle makes no sense to me
i'm trying to see what comes next
i'm trying to figure out what's left
yeah i'm trying to calm down
trying so hard to know
to find out what this all means
to know where to go
i'm looking for anyway out of here
looking for someone to see
to know you for your true colours
to know me for me
no, something doesn't fit in right here
these pieces just won't sit
i'm looking for my next fix
i'm looking for just one more kick
still i'm roaming through this town
looking for any place to cry
anywhere to try my new voice
looking for somewhere to rest, anywhere to lie.
This is the last of three poems I wrote during finals week last winter, as I was camped out in the Drinko Library. My physical and emotional journeys in Huntington when I needed to run away from economics for a minute or two.
07 December 2003
06 December 2003
Your Lie
Something I just can't say,
my fears frighten the words away,
to a place where no one can go.
I've been through this day before,
but this time I just can't endure,
I can't find the will to stay.
Just look at me,
let your glare fall right through me,
bury my feelings,
throw them aside.
Find some way,
no, you're not afraid,
to cut right through me,
to laugh at me and the tears that I cry.
You're coming here once more,
you need say no more,
to tear me in two and then take to the sky.
If only I could close the door,
and tell you I love you no more,
But those are words I just cannot say.
You breathe vengeance,
I must give you penance,
but you're not here for me,
you're here for your lie.
Just look at me,
let your glare fall right through me,
bury my feelings,
and throw them aside.
You're not here for me, you're here for your lie.
The second of three poems I wrote while camped out during Winter finals at Drinko Library. This one is the last poem I have written about Dustin, to date in July 2004. The last ever? Somehow I doubt it.
my fears frighten the words away,
to a place where no one can go.
I've been through this day before,
but this time I just can't endure,
I can't find the will to stay.
Just look at me,
let your glare fall right through me,
bury my feelings,
throw them aside.
Find some way,
no, you're not afraid,
to cut right through me,
to laugh at me and the tears that I cry.
You're coming here once more,
you need say no more,
to tear me in two and then take to the sky.
If only I could close the door,
and tell you I love you no more,
But those are words I just cannot say.
You breathe vengeance,
I must give you penance,
but you're not here for me,
you're here for your lie.
Just look at me,
let your glare fall right through me,
bury my feelings,
and throw them aside.
You're not here for me, you're here for your lie.
The second of three poems I wrote while camped out during Winter finals at Drinko Library. This one is the last poem I have written about Dustin, to date in July 2004. The last ever? Somehow I doubt it.
02 December 2003
Divorce
My mind and I are no longer on speaking terms
I’m now waiting for the divorce decree
Perhaps cruel and unusual punishment and harm
I imagine she’ll want full custody of my memories
Their value is diminished as it is
Long ago deserted, unquestionably neglected
My head is now vacant
My eyes just blank stares
I look around and see nothing
Nothing, nowhere
The forest is missing its trees, the sky its stars
Saturn its rings, men their Mars
Orbital now, what’s remaining of me?
As you can obviously see, some caffeinated cadaver
With coffee mocha blend for blood
My veins some ductwork with autopilot
Like a train on its way to wreck
Like some unintended casualty on their way to death
I commented at the time that this was "easily the most bizarre stuff I've ever written." I still feel that way! This was the first in a trio of poems I had written during finals week, while I was practically living at the main library, working twenty-four-hours-a-day to finish my classes. I passed every class that semester with an A or a B, and it was almost solely because of the work I did that week! These three poems were what I did when I could do no more psychology or economics. They were great then, and I enjoy them muchly now.
I’m now waiting for the divorce decree
Perhaps cruel and unusual punishment and harm
I imagine she’ll want full custody of my memories
Their value is diminished as it is
Long ago deserted, unquestionably neglected
My head is now vacant
My eyes just blank stares
I look around and see nothing
Nothing, nowhere
The forest is missing its trees, the sky its stars
Saturn its rings, men their Mars
Orbital now, what’s remaining of me?
As you can obviously see, some caffeinated cadaver
With coffee mocha blend for blood
My veins some ductwork with autopilot
Like a train on its way to wreck
Like some unintended casualty on their way to death
I commented at the time that this was "easily the most bizarre stuff I've ever written." I still feel that way! This was the first in a trio of poems I had written during finals week, while I was practically living at the main library, working twenty-four-hours-a-day to finish my classes. I passed every class that semester with an A or a B, and it was almost solely because of the work I did that week! These three poems were what I did when I could do no more psychology or economics. They were great then, and I enjoy them muchly now.
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