Drink and Conversation.

I'm like my father in the way our silence works
in dealing with the women in our lives.
I'm like him in more ways than this, but
this is the most notable.
I'm not too like my mother, except in looks and stubbornness.
I'm okay with this.

I will say I have it in me.
It is stronger than the Irish Whiskey
that's been running through me since birth.
I have bits & pieces of them and I see it sometimes.
They are fighters though, that's the real difference.
My laziness will kill me.
I've never needed too much more than
a handle of dirty
(or 20 of Busch Light bottles)
((or the 4 liter of Carlos Rossi, 13%))
and a nice person to talk to about it all.
That's really all I've ever wanted to make me happy.

That,
and maybe doing it in a different place every once in awhile.
I guess that's sad.
I don't remember what I liked before that.
I can fumble around on the board
or with the pen
to seem like I have some drive.
But Mom & Dad,
it's really the bottle and conversation I want.
It makes it come out easier.
It makes life easier to take.
On my back, drunk and talking about the clouds with her.

The Wine Of The Road

3 hours at home after a week on the road
and I'm ready to do it all again.
Keeping my bag packed and plan set
Keeping life just distant enough so it can't touch me.
Keeping the irish whiskey in my veins.
Upstate New York good god let's fucking do it.
Move on, over and out.
I am drunk off the wine of the road.
The couches they've been good, yes,
the guest beds and beds shared, yes,
drunk off all of this and still drinking, yes.
The memories are fading,
living isn't TOO too hard
and Avah is here.
I hear her name blow in from the south
on the cold wind as it whips by my ex-lovers house.
Where is she tonight?
Where did it go?
Is life good yet, or did The Aeroplane crash into The Sea?
They don't get it, they never have or will.
The road brings me closer to you
The wine brings you closer to me.
2 bodies fumbling, fighting for a feeling.
"We can get it back!"

You and me, you crazy horse, we're going places.
We're gonna do it all over again.

She's gone.

I would NEVER want to live forever, I explained,
as I would see everyone else die.
my lovers,
my brother and sisters,
my children,
my childrens children.

Watching them grow up and slowly down again and then
all of them, put into the dirt
headstones like flowers.
headstones like we never got out of here.

Everyone else gets out, as my life slows to its stop.
Never thinking I'd end up living and dying in the same place,
it clicks like a camera.
Or the memory of your shoes walking down the hallway toward the door.

It's really gone this time.

Friend, I could jump into the Atlantic and no one would ever hear from me again.
The ground is crumbling beneath us, it already looks as though GOD
may have been clawing at the hillside to reach us, as I think-


I need to get out of here, or we'll end up drunk for another 3 years.
I know you have been crawling in and out of bed with your new lovers
I know that they're probably better than me
in life and looks.
Meanwhile
I can't live or look at you.
It's really gone this time:
the feeling of splendidness
the orange days.
the gigantic stumbling of us towards the beat-up farmhouse.
I hope you find what you're looking for.
I tried.
But I never want to hear from you again.

Be A Man (roses)

I fucked up.
I tried to be a gentleman, paying for your cab back,
maybe holding doors once in awhile
but there's much more to it than that.
It's about BEING a man every once in awhile.
It's about not drinking
not taking drugs.
I'm a coward, I'm such a coward.
I'm hiding from you and from myself and from the only people who care if I live or die.
I'm scaring everyone and I can't stop I can't stop, I can't stop.
I'm sorry but it's the only thing that keeps her away from me.
I've made more than my fair share of mistakes but
I would have never dreamed i could have hurt you making them.
I built this room of bullshit around myself
and it's all caving in at the same time.
I can't stop until it stops hurting
and it won't stop hurting until I stop.

Thank you, Megan!

"Thank you, Megan,
Thank you so much!!!"
Slipping the 6 prescription pills into my trembling hands.

Moments like these are hard to come by.
This sick desperation,
these star-struck eyes.
I know that some make me happy
and some make me just not care.
But it's funny, at this late night hour
it's actually the blue ones
that make me not feel so blue.
93 on top of
833,
thank god for you
playing god for me.

"Religion is the Opiate of the Masses"
This mass of opiates is my own religion.

The Attack

we had it.
we had it then.
it flew oh my god it flew high above us
and tunnelled beneath.
it attacked from both sides.
it kept us awake at least it kept me awake
i saw it come at you, snarling.
i thought it had us cornered and
i decided to throw myself in front, (id never want to see you hurt.)
but when it bit me,
when that MOTHER FUCKER
BIT ME
i bled everything before it
and have bled everything since.


love.