Early November Mood Music

Boy with a Coin.....

Misguided Ghosts

They echo me in circles.....

Spoken Word Night

Some call it people watching.
I've always just called it being awake.

I can't help but watch and observe the comings and goings.

Where is she rushing to?
What does he do for fun?
That guy looks violent.
She looks lonely...

Some feel my eyes upon them.
I wonder what they think when our eyes meet.
Do I come off as snobbish?
I'm merely curious.

But who watches me?

Do I even notice?

Every now and then, you lock eyes with someone from across a room, and one of you looks away.
But how long were they looking before I looked up.
Was he wondering how much competition I would be as the night progressed?
Was she trying to figure out what color my eyes are?

Or was it nothing?
A mindless glance around the room, and I was merely a focal point.


As I stare around tonight, I catch the eyes of many, but nobody comes to talk.
This place is starting to feel alot like home.

That one girl

Lately I've had this craving,
for something I've not tasted in a long while.

My better judgement yearns against the urges.
But like the sea they Push, and Pull...

I've been told that I'm wanted, but I do not feel so.
I've been told that I'm a personal fantasy, but those are just words...
How can I see what you see? You give me no detail.

At times when alone, I feel myself aching for the sound of a *sigh*
The vibration of a thigh.
The tingling you get that makes toes curl and bad karma flee.

...

But as in all things I crave, I cannot know if it's good or not.
I flee from past mistakes, but do not confuse the notion.

You are tempting...
But you are dangerous.

And while danger may be fun.
I'm no longer a boy, as you've no doubt noticed.

Keep me in your thoughts.
Look me in the eye next we meet, and see what you find.

Who knows, it may just drive you mad.

The Bar

I see you glance my way out of the corner of my eye.

What is it you see?

That time she called me babyfaced?
The mark I carry across my face?
The studs I wear as an act of rebellion?
All the memories that darken under my eyes?

You refuse to meet my eye.
Always looking busy the moment I turn to smile.

Are you ashamed?
Embarassed?
Scared?

What do you expect to find hidden in my eyes?

The first time I told her "I love you"?
The last time I said "it's over"?
The last time i let my father strike me?
The first time I spoke up?

You want to know more, but you know nothing to begin with.

Did you know?

I let her cheat on me?
She was the last?
I stopped saying "I love you" after her?
I'm scared to want someone, but more afraid to be wanted?

You're in over your head.

I'm to quiet to be of any use.
I like the little things, more than any big thing.
Sex should be slow and drawn out.
Momma didn't raise no quiter.

...
She laughs and wishes me well.
It was nice to see you again.
She looks me in the eye. Finally.

And just for a moment I hear her cadence behind my eyes.

"What is it you see?"
"What do you expect to find hidden in my eyes?"
"Did you know?"
"You're in over your head"

I chuckle to myself, and shake her hand.
Our eyes meet for the second and last time that night.

Until next time ladydude.

Hmmmmmmmm

When alone
hum

hmmmmmmmm
hhhrphhhhhmmmmm
MMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmm
EEEEEUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMmmmmmmm

There is no point in thinking about it
let the vibrations tickle your tongue till you can no longer stand it
the hum starts to take control.
Low or High
you stopped controlling it long ago, as instructed

Feel it

R                        F
I          and         A
S                        L
E                        L

fill your being with it

then

Reverse it

Allow the feeling to begin in your heels
Let it twist and twixt between your thighs and around your calves
Let it pummel your chest until you are numb
Let it flex your fingers to your biceps

Cross your eyes and take a breath

Exhale

Hum

Fresh Words

It's hard to sit down and put things down again.
There's this feeling of anonymity, but not quite.
Who could be reading. Or who could be reading, but isn't.

The world has changed around me, and I feel different.

There are moments that I lose sense of time, and
A younger me would have striven to contain this all in rhyme.

But those times are no more.
And that boy is nothing more then a shadow, reminding me of what I once had.

I don't claim to understand all that I have done wrong in my few years of adulthood.
Or even if I'm morally good or morally bad when compared to my fellow peers.

I do know that I don't hate as much.
But at the cost of loving things as I once did.
And this is very conflicting for me.

No longer do I toss around the word "love" as if it did not hold consequences.
Of course it does.

And while I pride myself on never intentionally taking advantage of a woman and leading her along...
When the word "love" is lacking, It is hard to seem innocent when accused of such at the end.

I feel myself becoming something not quite complacent, but a mask of such deserving an award.
I would call it "charming bitterness".

I laugh and joke about reality when with others,
But when alone.
I cannot shake this feeling of fear of what may come.

And maybe that's the way it is supposed to be.
Many of the people I look up to in this world have told me that fear is sometimes a good thing.
It's there to remind you that you're not fucking crazy.
But sometimes I feel fucking crazy.
A crazy fuck, who is very fearful.

If you admit to caring about someone for even a second, and withdrawing your walls.
All your borders.
And letting this person into your life, and handing them direct power over your emotions.
Your desires.
Your fears.

Is that not such a thing worth fear?

I find that I cannot "date" as many of my peers do.
The entire operation is lost over my head.

Have I always been this way?

Or did I learn it?

These are my thoughts.
They consume me when alone.
And I am alone.

I do not resent being alone.
I do not think I would be made better if I was not alone.

But if man is anything, he is curious.

I am curious.
And I am alone.