Ink.

I walked along a city sidewalk
Drinking whiskey from a brown bag
Just the usual splash of warmth
Chased with a hint of nicotine and
Something caught my eye across
The bridge, hidden in plain sight
Something people would never care
to appreciate under normal circumstance

A young man in a long brown coat
Holding a lovely young woman in his arms
Black dress, high heeled shoes and
They were both smiling brighter than the
Brightest display of fireworks I've seen

I approached this couple in my drunken mess
And asked them how they make it work. How
Do they do it? What's the big fucking secret and
Why have I failed so many times to have this?

The young man told me to throw my bottle
Into the river. He took my cigarette from
my mouth and took a long drag, exhaled.
Immediately I found my arm around that lady
Cigarette in my mouth and completely sober
And she looked up at me and said "I love you."

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

On a transatlantic flight I look out
My window and see nothing but ocean.
I stare for a while and think "Oh...
That's nice. I wish that fucking attendant
Would bring me a rum and coke."
Eventually she does and I look out again

Miles upon miles of water
I'm inspired to write something
But by the time I dig out my pen
I've lost it.

So I'm sitting there, pen in hand
Like a gun loaded and ready to fire
But without a target, without a purpose
The attendant takes my cup and asks:
"You're a writer aren't you? I could tell..."
"I'm nobody famous..." I tell her and
I cut back to my little napkin, staring
Like it's a white ocean and I draw
A little dot on it and write the words
"You are here."

So I look out my window again
And I attempt to find the words.
It's a shame I didn't catch that
Inspiration when I could have and
Now it escapes me. Here I am
In the sky above the clouds. Above
The ocean without a thing in sight
Wishing I were drunk so I could just sleep.

There's some bullshit movie on the
In-flight monitors without any sound
(I forgot to ask for headphones. Pity me).
I watch it for a while and I can't say
But I figure it to be a romance film.
No sound, no words, just raw emotion.

No bullshit, really.
I wish real romance was this.
Where we don't talk so much.
There's much more in motion.

It strikes me hard to write this down:
"If love is an ocean, consider me the
Crazy asshole on the beach drinking
It from a glass wishing it would just
Get me really fucking piss drunk."

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The weather outside is terrible
My flight was delayed two hours
And you're sitting there holding
My hand. Extended goodbyes
I know I'll miss you more now
That I've held you a little longer
I've kissed you just a little more
It's getting so much harder...

I'm unshaven and in a shirt and tie and
Jeans you bought me as an early gift
With my suitcase full of notebooks
Full of words that I've written for you
You're in a dress wearing some flats
And spent three hours on your hair
And make-up just for the impression
"While you're gone, remember me like this."

You're holding my hand tighter
Than you have ever before.
Making the most out of that time
Before we'd be tied by miles.
Holding me tight like you'd
Never have to let me go.
Wouldn't that be something?
I think it really would.

Holding back your tears like you're
Holding back a collapsing wall on your own.
I know it's just a matter of time before
You do. Before the floodgate bursts and breaks

To be honest this delay just makes it harder
Because once you're gone, once I've departed
I'm going to wish that I was nowhere other than
Where you are at that exact point in time.

I know you're going to write me
Countless letters while I'm gone so that
You can give them to me when I come home
So that I can see how much you missed me
You know that I'll call you every night Not keeping
In mind that you can't always answer the phone
Hours later you'll check your voicemails and
Hear my voice in a tone of complete utter defeat

The world is so damn big but
It'll never stand in between us, sugar.

At the sound of the boarding call
On the intercom I hear your breathing
Getting heavy and hard to keep pace with
As my heart sinks into my stomache
Still, I don't think I'm comfortable with
Letting you go. No, I need another minute
Another hour. Another kiss goodbye. One,
And I'll be fine. I know I'll see you soon.

Because every cold night that you're not there
I meet you in my dreams
No matter how much of a nightmare the days are
When you're not around.

After about three hours, we get up to
Grab a cup of coffee. We stand outside
And hand-in-hand we kiss as flakes of snow
Melt in our warmth. You pull back and
Look into my eyes and tell me how much
Even though it hurts a little you love long goodbyes
Because we appreciate every single second
Like it's the last time we have together.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I've had this friend for years
I suppose you could say we're rivals
For years I was jealous of the
Attention he got when I got none.
He became renowned for his work
And I have to admit, he was great.
Like a modern day Hemingway.
Grace in every word he'd written.

I was in town for a short while
He asked me to coffee, set time aside
I was there early, eager to see him.
He was an hour late, drunk... disheveled.

When I asked him why he was late
He shrugged and said he was nervous.
I asked him why and he replied:
"Because after all these years, you've won."
I didn't quite understand so I asked him
If he could elaborate on what he said.
He took off his jacket, ordered his
Drink and then looked me in the eye and said:

"All I wanted to be wasn't famous.
It wasn't to be rich. To be well-known.
It wasn't to be the best at what I do, which
To be honest I certainly am not."

I asked him again what he meant.
His words reached millions. Moved them.
They're the most eloquent in modern print.
He had earned his way to fame.

He said:
"No, my friend.
All I wanted was to be you.
And now I realize,
I'm the furthest thing from it."

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I used to read up magazines and
Would pick out the most ridiculous
Articles just so I could see what
New Bullshit people were buying into
I used to watch movies all about those
Young kids falling in love because I
I believed that was the closest thing that
I could ever seem to have to it.
I used to open my big stupid mouth to
Motherfuckers walking along the streets
So I could boast about myself, that I'm free
And how they all are just fucking sheep.
I used to go to social drinking places
To tell the girls that are the life of the party
How fucking ugly they really truely are inside
And how it took alcohol to make them interesting
I used to go to coffee shops and hope
That there was a vacant table or booth for just me
Because I hate being social when I'm
Catching up on my Bukowski.

This might be why I have no friends.
I really need to work on that.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Just a note to all the girls
Who want to feel love but
Always have trouble with boys
With your huge teased hair
And your band shirts you got
From hanging out with whoever
That you kissed because you're easy
And find you cute because you're fake
Who make music that you don't even
Listen to unless you're on your
Stupid socializing websites.
Falling in love with all those e-boys
And breaking their hearts like you do.
I see you in the mall buying your
Stupid clothes from all the trendy stores
And you claim to make your own shit.
You wear those stupid fucking sunglasses
And strut around like the world should
Kiss your feet. Yeah... you with your
Slutty tattoos and your gratuitous piercings
I'm really disgusted by you and I hope
Every single person you've fucked has
A disease for being so shallow to fuck you.

I need a fucking drink and an acoustic guitar.
For real.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Tonight I wrote a few poems
Personally I don't think I'm any good.
But I write because I want to
Move people. But they never
Read a word that I have to say.
Maybe that's why I don't like
What I write? I don't know.

Sometimes I'll leave my notebook
On tables in cafes and watch intently
To see if anyone picks it up and
Reads what I'd written inside.

No one really does.

I think I might just throw them
Into my fireplace some night
And just start from scratch. Yeah...
Now THERE'S an idea!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The thing that I hate about former loves
Isn't the memories that we'd made I suppose
It's the goddamn keepsakes that I can't
seem to get rid of no matter how hard I try.

Out of the love in my heart
I decided to fill a notebook up
With poetry and drawings for
And about her that was unfinished.
Now the damn thing sits in my closet
And I can't seem to throw it away
Because despite how much things changed
I still put a lot of heart into it.

Next to that I have a photo album
I burned most of the photos from it.
And then there are labels and corks
from wine bottles along with her notes.

I don't want to offend her by throwing it all away.

And at times I'll turn on the radio
And I hear songs I used to sing to her
I know without a doubt that she
Fucks her new boy to those same songs.
(Come on, be a little more creative!)

I've turned the page. Yet it seems
Like your ink had leaked through.
Soon you'll be gone, phased out.
By then, I'dve sent all this shit back to you.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I walked through the rain tonight
Smoking a cigarette. Kept getting
Upset because it kept going out
Or of course getting soaked. In
Which case I'd just have to start
Anew. I hate wasting cigarettes
Especially since they keep me calm
And I never seem to have one when
I need it the most. I get this
Anxiety. Like the world is going
To fall apart right when I smoke
My lucky. And I won't have one
Left to calm me down so I can
Figure it out. Solve that problem.

I think I'm going to die of anxiety
Long before I die of lung cancer.
I want to die playing Ziggy Stardust.
Is that random? I think so but really

Who the fuck cares? It's a dream.