Useless Wings


Cars stampede past me. Through grey fog, faces weighing as much as bricks, these man made stars pierce holes in the low dangling clouds, creating small moons in the dark sky, swirling from every slashing tired. Love is birthed in new beginnings. Why does everything around me feel like it’s ending?

Sometimes a tight hug and a warm kiss can feel like a fresh graveyard. There are days when homes are decorated with grief. The worst pain in the world comes from missing another person.

Shoot me down, bruise my bones and cut my skin, but don’t leave me all alone. Oh, I hate that you’re gone. I hate that you’re driving. And I hate that I can be so needy. No, I certainly don’t mean to hold you back. I just know I need to hold you. I’m not sure how you did it, but you made my life better–

So long’s roll over our cheek bone hills, pouring memories into the crease of our palms. My tears hit already wet roadway, and sound like tiny birds smacking against car windshields.

Can you hear what is happening inside me? Or is it just me? I wish you could see through me, because I haven’t got the guts to show you my lack of guts, to show you how violently I’m dying inside, or how much my love for you hurts. Look at me, I’m made of tissue paper.

When I was younger I was invincible, but now I hurt and bleed daily, defeated and inculcated by the blanket of your passion. I’m in deep.

Gone, you vanish through tail lights, down a stretch of road, off into old lands. I stand statue-esque in the embrace of a grey suited sky. Damp air wraps around me, it’s felt my proportions before, and understands me. I can feel it in my chest and against my neck. It can hear my heart beat slow. But from miles away, across bridges…can you? I shut my eyes and in my mind your car speeds faster, stealing you away from me. Oh, if my wings weren’t useless, I’d catch you right now. I’d push off this cement and soar to you. I’d come after you, come for you, come with you. But these wings are useless.

A broken wing can’t leave ground.


hero who?

In my dreams I am your hero. 

And we are walkiImageng down a dark alley, after an opera concert, my hand blanketing your fingers. 

In my dreams there is a man, he has a gun, and he is looking to take your life. 

I’d like to say I would take the bullet for you. I’d like to say that a lot.

In my dreams your are cradling me in your arms, blood on your pretty dress, my body going lifeless.

In your dreams I am your hero.


I wake up, late night sleep plastered on my lips.

The house is dark as I stumble into the kitchen for a drink of water.

The dishwasher blinks clean.

I could empty it for you, make your life a little easier. 

I just go back to bed, pretend I never saw it.

You empty it in the morning.


Yes, only in my dreams I am your hero. 

a thousand hopeful waterfalls

You were waiting for me? Weren’t you? The entire time?
Lord, I was so burned out. Mud and blood, dry and stuck to the alligator scales on my body, every piece of me corrupted by the places I had been, mistakes balanced on two weak legs, too many regrets to keep track of, my heart flaking into pieces as the wind swept through me.
Sick of eating loneliness, I collapsed.  
But you walked to me – no, you ran to my side, lifted me with your Albatross wings, and kissed my sin and my stench away. I could see your face. Then the oceans in my eyes flooded out, and on your breast, my tears ran like a thousand hopeful waterfalls, you wanted to dive right in. 
I told you I was wrong. You whispered I was loved. I told you I made mistakes. You said that I was welcomed home. I told you I let you down. You just held me up. I told you I was sorry. You said I am your son.
And then the oceans came again.
We walked inside, but really you carried me, into a house full of song and expectant eyes, there was a feast and a table, I sat in the seat prepared for me. 
I enjoyed the party for the prodigal.
The party for me. 

sheep and lunatics


Inside this fragile chest galumphs a thousand Apache horses on their way to fight a war. I am finding it nearly impossible to breathe. They stomp and they stride, my lungs are entangled with the manes of such wondrous, frightening creatures. I don’t know when I grew so afraid, or why these nightmares chose to trample on me. Am I that exceptional? Or just that insecure? And are they unwilling to take me alive?

Or do I refuse to keep my spirit up?

I often hear violent, ritual wildness in my sleep. No, I do not bleed for war, but there are wars in my blood. The heart is the most brutal battleground known to mankind. Pastors, poets, sheep and lunatics, they all draw battalions inside of their bones, my insides are pierced with arrows, and I seldom have the strength to pull them out.

I just need to know, if you knew the road to peace, would you walk it with me? Or would you make me travel alone?

Honestly, I don’t need you to promise me eternity today. But will you eternally promise me today? If the world wants eternity, they can have it. Just give me today, please. Give me your right now, and I will give you mine.

Forgive me; I know I lack the patience you require. I sometimes think I ask too much of you. Other days I fear I do not ask enough. That is why I am asking you now: If not all roads lead to you, will you take any road to get to me?

I’m all war horses and weapons inside, wrap me in your arms. Caress my battered mane. I’m pulling apart to be put back together.


It’s a wonder this heart doesn’t shatter. I throw it against so many walls. Walls I have built. We all build walls, don’t we? I mean, they’re the only things that seem to keep the monsters out.
But what happens when those same walls, the ones which were intended for our own good only begin to harm us? Often times they harm us more than the monsters we are trying to keep out would.
Soon enough we begin to push everything out. We build so many walls that nothing can get in. Not even the good things. Not even love.
Why does this happen? Why? Can you tell me? No? I can’t either.
And this is what scares me.
I’ll let my walls down. But you need to promise to protect me.

the shadows we own



i tried defeating myself. i read your words until they hurt. but that did nothing. i guess these shadows were darker than i had hoped.

how do you rid yourself of that which dwells inside of you? is it possible? or are we destined to fight the shadows we own? i’m told i have weapons. but do i have the right to bear them? i want to abandon me. i need to abandon me. do you want to abandon me? please, say you don’t.

we are all caged. we can only taste freedom when we surrender to a king. and that is freedom, right?

there are certain things we will never escape.


because i can defeat my thoughts, but i cannot defeat my own heart.

a garage sale rembrandt


i knelt down, my hands attempting to grasp what my eyes were seeing. you were inches away from me, waiting for me to pick you up off that dusty crate. maybe you were a dream. or maybe you were actually there.

oh, i believe in timeless art. do you? everyone needs a symphony. music to move the heart. will you play for me? we’re all made to join in the song, we’re all created to duet.

i dusted you off, lifted my head, and smiled slightly. your edges were cold and worn, your spirit rich and pure. like a rembrandt at a garage sale. i fell in love with your imperfections. across your face i saw dirt and i could smell your years on you.

i couldn’t wait to hear you sing. i couldn’t wait to dance. i took you home, i set you down, and i began to float. i began to disappear.

i’ve never just listened. but i like listening to you. tell me, what kind of enchantment did you cast upon me? i want to roll around in it forever.