
I Told My Therapist
you know, i told my therapist
about that time when we first kissed
you aimed for cheek and claimed to miss
she wonders why i think of this
she calls this a manic state
it isn't healthy to fixate
on broken love you grew to hate
she suggests i clean my slate
but i prefer to be obsessed
i know she thinks i'm such a mess
and i confess, i like me less
the me with you was at my best
so tell me, how'd we fall apart?
you know, i've made an awful art
of giving fragments of my heart
to stupid boys--where do i start
to let go of what i know
and give myself the space to grow
it was my own choice to go
so what's with this stupid fomo?
what am i afraid to miss
i cannot go on like this
i blame you and your stupid kiss
now i'm all fucked up
it's all your fault
i'm broken now
quit adding salt
to wounds when i'm down
so bad, i'm glad
to see you
how did you fuck me up
this much?
pay her
to tell me i'm insane
i'm hurt
you're my burden and pain
she blames
your inane mind games
oh, it's such a shame
but i blame myself
for this hell
i'm past help
i know
and she knows
what i chose
oh, the pain it only grows
free of man
gaslit karma
psycho drama
marijuana
play nirvana
rock star glory
different story
back alley gory
meth in the morning
hope on a vinyl
dope in a line
i'll make myself fine
i'll put you on trial
you were the worst of me
but you put a curse on me
city squalor
blood mixed water
for the love of God
get me out of here
what if you're a shadow
just a fragment of my mind
a vague idea of what i fear
some ghost i left behind
could i let go of your echo
on that pathway, could i find
the dreams and plans
i'd left abandoned
broken parts
of what was mine
is there a me
without you
let me see what i can do
maybe i
will be just fine
straighten up
this jagged spine
you pushed me away
took for granted i would stay
on a leash, your little pet
but i haven't broken yet
what if i'm a hostage
somewhere lost inside your game?
just a player to obey you
used and tossed into the flame
fire breather, i don't need you
by myself, i'll rise again
chains can't hold these wings of gold
i'm an immortal
free of man
that same night sky
the fallacy's
believing
that there ever was a choice.
you can shout
your whole heart out
but in the noise
where is your voice?
look to starless skies
and wonder
what to dream on
what a joke
what kind of place
gives some to grace
and leaves the rest to choke?
life is a game
prize of dreams
and I'm on the losing team
always on the losing team
wasting time
wishing on stars
that never shine
were never ours
to claim
the same night sky
brings luck and doom
the sun was once
loved by the moon
wait
have patience
they say good things
come to those who
carry forth
holding that lit torch
you will lead the way out
lucky that
your northern star
lead like a map
to who you are
that same night sky
is dark for some
the moon was once
loved by the sun
but what if stars
are just fucking balls
of burning gaslight
and that's all?
and they're bright for some
and a plight for others
and the moon and sun
are just jilted lovers
the fallacy's
believing
that there ever was a choice
City Living
Walking, pavement talking,
rundown sneakers on crumbled cement.
Knocking, raised hand shocking,
begging time for last month’s rent.
Shriveled streamers, once were dreamers
But they seeped into deep cracks
Torn up walls, we're born to fall
How much I long those bright days back
Everything we've given to this "noble" city living
Will not return, the verdict goes unread
No light, Holland tunnel
Stars that hide, I think I'm done, I'll
Burn these broken dreams
I think Bohemia is dead.
Cancel Culture
Toxic morality police
Assemble, all who lie
Armchair sleuths
Who solved the case
Convicting the wrong guy
Everyone's a winner
The most triggered
The most liked
Deep-scroll decades of twitter
To find the sin
To end a life
Then look me in the face
And say the world's a better place
Are you sure
It's better than before?
Seven second clips
To give kids ADHD
It must have happened like they said
Because they said it on TV
Kardashians
And fashion
Recycled from eras before
A tragedy
Imagine
Having nothing
To call yours
No dislikes on Youtube
The solution
We solved hate
But wait, look in the comments
Passive aggressive
Hate still rates
Let's have a competition
World's best victim
All apply
All opinions valid
Unless you're a straight white guy
Can't have an opinion
That's a sin
They'll light the flame
They'll sentence you
to witchcraft
If you wish things stayed the same
Brand new trend on Tik Tok
Find a bridge
And jump right off
Get a couple million clicks
Add on a soundtrack
Of sad girl pop
Trendy mental illness
Like brand new Fendi
Collect them all
Bipolar. Borderline. Depression
Like shopping at the mall
If unique's the new normal
That makes normal more unique
Idiocy. Irony.
The future's looking bleak
The true lost generation
Future nation
Planet blown
#WorldIsEnding
Hashtag trending
But no one looks up
from their phone
Wish I could
cancel
this culture
Cancer
Vultures
Fanning at the flames
Burning down the world
Yes, you the walking cancer
Who has all the fucking answers
Remember,
When you're standing in the ash
That you're the fucking one
That lit the match
Master of None
I wasn't a kid who dreamed. I'd love to play pretend, I'd be a dinosaur (due to an unhealthy obsession with the Land Before Time) or whatever Disney princess was in vogue that year. Mostly, I just did everything that my sister did, because she was two years older than me, and therefore knew what was cool.
We'd put on little skits for our parents along with our cousins, on those rare occasions when we all scraped together enough free time to see each other. I enjoyed it well enough, but I mostly took a back seat to my sister, the director or to my baby brother who could steal any show with his irritating cuteness.
I had only one passion--to be remarkable.
I just hadn't quite figured out what I was remarkable at.
I'm not sure if my passion for writing really began as such. I don't recall feeling some desperate need to put my words on paper. I didn't have a strong urge to pen the great American novel. The true story is quite boring, and actually quite vain. We did a unit of poetry in my sixth grade English class. And I was good at it. So good, in fact, that they hung one of my poems up in a frame--a forever relic of some faint talent I might have once thought I had.
That's all I needed. That was my ticket. My way to be remarkable.
Except, eventually the poetry unit ended. And the world moved on and I was left with writings that no one would ever read. But I never stopped.
I wrote my way through middle school, though I lost the confidence to believe that I had a talent for it. As childish optimism shifted into preteen moodiness, I felt a compelling urge to make everything dark, dour and depressive. I saturated myself in the Smiths and the Cure and considered the darkness to be a deep well that only I could understand.
I was a twat in middle school.
But it was also the place that I developed my second love, for music. My poems suddenly became songs, and as I fumbled an attempted accompaniment on a Cassio keyboard, I crooned lyrics that I thought would make Morrissey proud. I enjoyed crafting rhymes, and singing though I'm mediocre at best at the latter. But it wasn't enough. The lyrics were empty to me, they needed more context, more world building.
Enter Jonathan Larson. I watched the musical Rent and it changed my perspective on everything. One song glory became my mantra and I developed a fascination and reverence--not to the story of Rent, exactly--but to the story of its creator a thirty five year old who worked at a diner and then penned one of the greatest musicals of all time, only to die before he could truly see his dream achieved.
It's a tragedy that I took as a strange life purpose. I wanted to be Jonathan Larson. I wanted to pen the next great American musical. There was only one problem: I couldn't write music. I also couldn't play any instruments or sing very well, so this dream was always unattainable. But I came away with a singular sensation which was the dream to leave a legacy of art behind me when I die.
My focus shifted once again in high school, when I got my hands on a camcorder and began to fancy myself an amateur filmmaker. I spent my time watching obscure indie films and questioning the meaning of life within them. I annoyed my family by filming every waking moment of our family vacations. I really thought that this was the winner. I even talked about going to film school. This was my new ticket out.
But I let my parents beat reality into my head, and instead of going to film school at Northwestern or NYU, I followed my sister, like I had always done, to study nursing at Ball State.
It was the worst year of my life.
And more than a decade later, staring down my life as a college dropout, professional slacker, would-be writer, musician, and film connoisseur, I realize--admittedly a bit too late that my true dream was to be a prodigal.
I wanted to be some child miracle who rose above their lot in life, and through passion and determination, achieved impossible things.
I'm thirty now, far too old to be a prodigal. And the truth is I failed at everything I attempted to do. But now, looking back, in all that failure I found my true voice. Because when I was younger, everything I did was a show, for an audience. I was never truly driven, because I was only doing what I thought would make me remarkable to everybody else.
And the truth is, I'm not remarkable. I'll probably never be noteworthy. But I love the art of crafting words. I love the feeling of finding new music. I love to get lost in the worlds of musicals in the surprise of great cinema. I can do all of these things, just for me. And sure, I'll never be Jonathan Larson. He'd already achieved more in thirty-five years than I'd ever hope to in my life. But I can take his life-changing message to heart--there's no day like today.
I'm not the best, but I'm getting better the more I write. And I find ideas surge through me like electricity. I'm more alive and free now then I ever was as a child. It's not a profound passion. It's not a torch I can carry through a darkened tunnel. But it's at least a candle. And though the road is dark, I can just see it, enough to stumble my way into the light.
I don't expect anyone to follow me there. Why follow the girl holding only a candle? The torch burns bright with charisma and passion, it only makes sense to follow that brilliant light.
I never know where my dark road will take me. It's exciting within the unknown. I'm a jack of all trades and a master of none. But I finally figured out that the point is, I'll never be done.
Clean
Haunted by a shadow from the past
By a love I thought would last
By you, who took all he could need
Wasn’t I too young to be left broken?
My heart was so open
Why’d you let it bleed?
Was I ever enough?
Did I want you too much?
When will this love be done with me?
I’ve taken it all in my stride
Excused the way you stole my pride
I can’t count the times I’ve cried
I’ve got to get
clean
That fix of you runs through my veins
I crave the way you cause me pain
I’m begging for a fall of rain
I’m ready to come clean
Our memories, now painted black
There’s only darkness looking back
But there’s a lighthouse on this map
Up ahead
And maybe if I chase that light
Everything might be alright
There’s only one task left tonight
Leave what’s dead
Was I ever enough?
Did I want you too much?
When will this love be done with me?
I gave you all of my best parts
Paint your black walls red with hearts
In the ruins now the healing starts
I’ve got to get clean
These track marks bruising fragile arms
Reminders of your wicked charms
I will not let you in to harm
I’m ready to get clean
Will you wash away with the water
Or will it all just be another
Scar beneath my skin?
I was never enough
I just need you too much
You told me love
You’re done with me
You took a girl so pure and true
And twisted her to fit with you
Don’t act as if you never knew
Now that I’m here clean
Don’t lure me back with tempting love
As if that’s even what this was
Can’t love a man I couldn’t trust
We’re done. I’m finally clean.
dancing in my mind
i just saw a face
that left me displaced
in time
still hasn't been erased
i still know
every page and line
your face, a map
to all i thought
i'd left behind
a technicolor memory
i've built up like a shrine
everytime i picture you
you're dancing in my mind
in a blue suit
just grooving
moving in time
i know it's not real
but somehow i always find
i dream you at seventeen
a time
when you were mine
this song takes me back
to the year of you and me
no separation in between
one entity
how'd we fall apart?
we were like atoms
so in sync
you held my heart
and i was every song
you'd sing
still every time i picture you
you're dancing in my mind
beneath the streamers
dreaming
and keeping
in time
i know it's not real
but somehow i always find
i dream you at seventeen
the last time
that you were mine
holy ground
toss this dead love in the water
let desire burn in flames
either way
think we could say
this city knows our names
i think we've been kicked out
of every single bar uptown
park strolls at midnight
damn boy, we sure got around
i'm not ready to go home yet
so why don't we go back
to the place where we first met
i think that roller rink has shut down
it's probably boards and dust now
but that place is holy ground
it is
i remember
i remember everything
we may not last forever
some love starts to fray
i'm not worried for tomorrow
if we still have today
i'll wear that plastic ring
that you won at the arcade
it won't mean anything
but the pictures never fade
i don't want to fall asleep yet
so why don't we sneak back
to the place where we first kissed
hiding underneath the bleachers
from those nosy teachers
man, that place is holy ground
it is
and i remember
i remember everything
summer storm
lightning bolts
light up the sky
wonder if i should try
maybe speaking my mind
would the words come out right?
you look like a dream
tangled up in the sheets
drying off by the heat
of the fire light
your hand in my hand
we're too close
i just can't
so i stand to leave
you say i should stay the night
i might
it's just right
i should go
i know
but i don't
i won't tonight
i can't go home now
it's pouring
i don't want to come off
boring
so i will stay 'til morning
we'll ride this summer storm
and we'll face this thing together
i hope love's not like the weather
i like this rain much better
i hope it rains forever
cause once the sun is shining
you are no longer mine and
one night's not enough timing
to say all i've been trying
i love you
there, i said it
so could you just forget it?
cause you'll regret it
once the storm has ended