kinderhearted; the brave.

your drunken eyes and needy lips
whispering about our old nostalgic trips
about letting the phone ring, no answer
how everybody said, this is the last chance for her.

i have braided your hair in one smooth line
then we'd sit indian style, and you'd braid mine
we owned each other, but mostly you were mine
but i haven't felt like that since i was nine.

    mother explained she would never choose
    but eldest daughter had the fat kid blues
    and that new baby was like a permanent bruise
    every way you looked at it, she'd lose.

   your bright eyes and smiling lips
   whispered goodnight, sending me on sleepy dream trips
   you say you don't feel whole if we don't speak
   that your heart feels heavy, and your knees feel week.

        Bad days make waves
          in weeks of summer.
        Light skin, Bad eyes
          burning to feel fresh
                 like the phoenix.
        If I could finish a thought
        i'd be rich
        If I were all skin and cheek bones
        i'd be a bitch

As I sit awake, my arms feel dead and my mind feels numb.
Sunken dreams, silent screams, when the fuck did I get so dumb?
And every day presents a brand new chance,
to feel like hell and never take a stance.
Cos we're Generation Why? Not Generation How?
I wanna know why I've sunken so low, and I wanna know now.

        i've found all those words i thought i had lost.
        i put them in a box with emotional letters i should've tossed.
           and if you see maria, let her know i love her still.
           cos last time i saw maria, something had broken her will.
        and her hands were tied in a nicotine chain.
        and i saw all the things she could never attain.
        but i heard she wasn't doing well, i heard the thoughts in her head had swelled.
        i heard she got lost inside her own mind, and the voices inside were not very kind.
           if you see maria, let your eyes fall to the floor.
           cos if you see her naked, you'll never want to see her anymore.

                and
            you have an answer for everything.
            about all the things that i could bring
              to the euphemistic table
              your long running fable
            about all my wasted wits
                and
            you have response to every question.
            keeping me from learning a life lesson
               you have to protect
               my frail intellect
            and all my suburban dreams

i lost my heart in Pittsburgh
i think somewhere it fell out
  between the hotel sheets
  and the smell of sex long since dead
i lost my mind in Detroit
but i'm pretty sure
  my parents never installed it
  i don't think the parts fit

so if you ever lose your heart in Pittsburgh
  don't worry much
  i'm pretty sure it will make it's way back home
and if you lost your mind in Detroit
  don't give up hope
  cos i reckon you never much used it, anyway

but at the very least,
  i've found my wandering eye
   for cities to me unknown
so at the very least,
  suppose i'll be back this way

to find my broken heart
nurturing my lost mind,
  telling a barkeep about
   some Mid-Western mess
 who abandon them both.

auto diagnosis, in manual


don't you think i can feel you pulling away? i'm not some stranger in off the street. i'm not some depressing ex-wife, too wrapped in my own guilt to see through to you. i don't blame you for my own insecurities, i don't try to make you feel like less than the man you are. don't you hold your old heart breaks against me.

i've walked long winding roads, and i've seen what our lifestyle can do to a person. i've held my own hands, and whispered secrets into deaf ears. my untrue promises have wrecked homes, and driven men out of the arms of their loving wives. i could break you down, and make you like it.

    "i'm half asleep, long night of punk rock shows behind me. i took a shower because bear said i should be as clean as a whistle when he gets here. she offered me condoms, but i told her not to worry, i've got my chastity belt on. she laughed, and said good luck. he knocks on the door, and my stomach drops. i let him in, unsure, and it is the first time i feel his hands on my hips. his mouth is on mine, and i push away. this was the first time i had ever met him."

your beauty seems so much stronger than mine, your faults so much deeper. when you're sleeping, my head on your chest, your heart pounding in my ear. when we make love, the intense look on your face, the hand prints left on my body. when we fight, the ugly words no longer left silent. whatever you are doing, whenever you are doing it. know that i am watching, admiring, falling even more in love.

our daughter has long dark hair. as a small child, it was the color of butter scotch, but now it is almost as black as mine. she has my rosy cheeks, and your thick skin. eyes so bright, they glitter as green as both of ours. she is the sweetest thing you will never see, and hers are the warmest embraces you'll never receive. her name is helen, and she is the daughter we will never have.

    "so, this one day i am waiting around for him. it keeps getting late and later. i watch the moms in minivans driving 20 over the limit. the seven teenagers packed like sardines, cat calls out the windows. it's like a fucking rainbow, these cars driving by. it's past the evening hours now, and here i am, still waiting."

unleashing the fury. nocturnal turkeys. stick shifts. dollar movies. bologna on white. calling cards. royal oak to utica at 3 am. "he watches you from behind". plaza apartments. world market marzapan. jailbait phonesex. livejournal. christmas 2002. universal mall parking lot. defense of entitlement. "love, the reformed slob". coniglietta, our love child. phonecalls to cops, suicide plans halted. easter presents behind geo metros. the falafel king. confrontation: you; gram; mary's house. dog treats for tyler& rembrandt. no exhaust fan. michigan works! my mothers baseball bat. johnny depp on our anniversary. the russian. 2am walking ferndale. the heathenkatz. "p-h-a-n-g". sweatpants. crying during 'finding nemo'. starting so you'll quit. self-discovery via love. the chicken dance. raccontami.

a night in the summer, i wore a white cotton gown. my body smelt of wasted youth, my hair of oranges. i cried my heart out, eyes swollen. i'm so forgetful, you're so destructive. a match made. my head was pounding, my heart beating mile a minute. a gasp swelled in my throat, i was unable to control it. you were on me in a minute, holding me so tight i thought i'd be bruised. comforting words in my ear, i whispered back, i've never hurt this bad. what i should have said was i've never loved this much.

up& running


digital versions of past traumas left behind
the scabs she left you have already scarred your mind
an echo in the dark, a voice you have heard before,
`these cotton clad hips will be yours to touch no more`

holding my hands will never make it right
it will not be her back against yours tonight
i've fought my hardest battles behind the screen of virgin lips
i've bared most of my parts to you, yet still i cannot strip

your heart is with old lovers whose touch still linger on
i've given and i've tried, even spent these nights until dawn
a thousand glances could break a bridge built on trust
but those thousand glances, i know, are nothing more than lust

nevermind the supposed silver lining of being your families child prodigy
because i can't make it any better for you than it is for me
nevermind the supposed silver lining of living to simply be free
i can't make your rain clouds sprout rainbows, but i'm trying, believe me

i am trying.
please, believe me.

i can hear david bowie blasting down the halls
him and ziggy bouncing off these paint chipped walls
some weirdos are sitting outside, making cat calls
wanna join me and cushion my fall?

only you can make the beautiful seem cynical
yeah, only you can make my life seem whymsical

cause you don't got no sympathy. what the hell is empathy? build your life on apathy. give advice, and charge a large fee, right?

you think nixon was our nations downfall.
you analyze and say maybe it was washington that screwed us all.
on, in time you will be like them, and sell out, and give up.
grow up, and say your goodbyes.
i bet you'll become a fucking national treasure.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

i promise i'll always be the bane of your existence.