now you see me,
then you dont
now im here
and then you arent
one second passes like one lifetime
blink. breathe. dream.
stay where you are and dont make a sound
stare in a seemingly endless abyss – (the backs of your eyes)
let your thoughts take control,
just for this moment
then im gone
and now youre left standing

around you. everything a different dirty secret. im the words worst secret agent; great at the job but the shit i hide couldnt be more childish. not just for you.

its like, in this war we become each others enemies. at least, youd be mine. my secrets arent for your eyes. we sit here and you call me friend. my commanding officer screams “do it now” but none of this really matters. time runs out like a budget for war.

take action, soldier, at my hidden words. how you deem me a mystery and i deem you a liar.

returning to ground zero brings me out of these fantasies. i say “a trip home clears my head” but the home i think of is the seat next yours (a custom ground zero).
dreaming alone and behind locked eyes is a entire different ballgame than my actual cowardice. think, kid. ive got a clear shot but i cant picture you dead. im not cut out for this war. we stand on the tightropes between “best friends”, “enemies” and “lovers”. kid – this is war, not love. i dont have time to spell it out for you. im sure you wish you were in the arms of someone safe.

tell me, solider, will you reach for your own gun or the own aimed at my head?

my bad luck seems everlasting. see, ive been screwing this up since 01. now im fighting a war in my head and the one i hope sees this will look straight past to his better friends.

we hide in the dark, glowing without light. xrays splitting colors; reversing bones to skin. insideout to nonexistent. twisted and venomous
you read “keep out of reach of children” . (glow in the dark kids keep dim streets lit holding together everything in sight. we expand your horizons.)

picture falling buildings
under a rising sun.
busy avoiding each other to make some sort of point. buildings apart (not that its important) and mind games away. thoughts hanging by a thread, poorly stitched. poorly thought.
falling buildings, falling stars
still falling apart.

spitting lies.spitting venom.secrets whispered in dark rooms.broken heaven and broken glass.

blurry vision; seeing double; xray to infrared. im always pretend(ing).
rain down on rooftops and treetops and tops of hoods. sun peaks out, lights up the sky and gives you a nicer perspective. the backspace is the only button wore out.

dim-light roadside rest stops.
a spark in the dark,
lighting smoke,
destroying from the inside out.
echoes of bad secrets –

– stolen dreams, stolen kisses from best ex-friends
un-made beds
from weeks of no sleep.
neon signs flashing
danger
danger
danger

before fizzing out and giving up
leaving empty words
and spotty vision.
blood like waterfalls
falling like tears
down the cheeks of monsters like us.

frayed, untied shoelaces
tripping this generation of screw ups
down the dark roads we take –

– staring out at head lights,
staring down at streetlights, down at blurring cities
down
down
down.

when clouds storm above
and trees stand tall,
shadowing over with excuses
a broken bridge, a toll, a car wreck, or something

when buildings fall
ignore the venomous whispers of the wind
and look up at the shining sun

poking through the rain

laugh in the dark
and hold on with fantasies
look past broken photographs

and washed out graffiti

listen for the music of the broken
and look out at skylines of possibility

i come from oatmeal cookies and cliché traditions
from distant smoggy skylines and rare rainstorms
from dim lighting and repainted walls
from beach days on skipped school days

from bad lies and worse truths
from broken windows and misbehavior
from disappointed parents and let down high expectations
from sugar rushes and morning headaches
from warm nights and the trolley at 11

from dirty pillowcases and loud late night music
from used vinyl and stolen books
from a blooming garden and almost first places
from wood chips and hair dye

from chipped paint and an outdated kitchen
from $8 hoodies and thrift shop shirts
from no shoes and new floors
from lonely nights and different pets

from overplayed favorite movies and california sunshine
from broken water bottles and hot chocolate
from scratched cds and bad eyesight
from rushed mornings and homework fights
from hand me downs and shared writings
i come from funny family stories and “no”s at the grocery store

a letter to You:

in dark places
where thoughts are fireworks,
uncontrolled,
they rain down w/ lost hope & dull colors;
all thats heard is screams.
“oohs” & “ahs” are exclaimed
by passing by strangers, oblivious
to wrongs and rights.
yet still, somewhere
Your voice is heard, & drowns out the screaming,
Your lyrics an oath to keep living;
a drumbeat of adrenaline & motivation,
& melodies that tell stories of everything
that needs to be told.
& the dark, shows a little more light
& the fireworks become an
opportunity.
they rain down in promises
instead of the past;
Your pretty voice & Your perfect melodies sound off
& push out the booms.
& maybe if Your songs were
just a little bit longer
this letter would be different
but for now itll
have to do.

signed: supposedly non-existent