shes alive in a way i am not after
three years of foreign cities
and new strange faces
while i drove stale streets
drank coffee & smoked cigarettes
stuck between "afraid to leave"
& "scared of dying here"

shes alive in a way i am not after
a two bedroom apt alone
the self-relience of working the stove
while i shared every room
& microwaved my food

shes alive in a way i am not
i used to deliver pizza
memorized all the routes
now i drive stale neighborhoods
pitch out still smoldering
cigarette butts
staring at street signs
trying to make them look new

i didn’t sleep when
i was a kid and i don’t now,

staying up late night
beer kiss drunk off
cigarettes and prayer
on the night sky dark ride
contemplate deconstruction and your own soulless
form
no center from which to speak
your madness, the storm inside.

in the morning
my eyes burn like new york
buildings, smoke pouring out the windows
and bodies dropping from collapsing
infrastructure towards
to sweet soft concrete death.

reality frays like the sleeve of a favorite jacket, like
bending mirrors,
like radio static playing incessantly and daring you
to try to sing along to a melody lost
in the mess.

but alcohol only dulls
for the night and leaves me cold and disoriented
and daydreaming of rich sober suits
drinking freshly brewed coffee and discussing
poets and their pursuit of tenure.

drunk is the inconsistent lover who decides,
in the middle of the night,
that she doesn’t like the shape of my bed
or the man who sleeps
dreamless between the sheets.

the darkness must have seemed immense

all huge and black and imminent

I counted the headlights as apparitions

and winced each time they'd pass

midnight took weary rest in limbo

said I'd never see the sun rise in my window

said I'd been living directionless and sinful

and when you play both sides you've got to be careful

memories cluttered the crooked floor

down a long stretch of hall without any doors

I heard the blackbirds weep and mourn

for the light they wouldn't see anymore

and mama reminded me that my hands were unworthy

thin and bent from the journey

unaware of the chaos they were serving

the uncertain future they were cursing

tony warned me not to die young

said brother, you've got to hold on

I spit and coughed to clear my lungs

to sing "I'll go on and on and on"