Writing, Ideas, & Stories
you’re hands are a blessing;
washing away the fear
tracing your fingers along my worries
pushing your thumbs deep into my anxiety
flowing away-
falling asleep in your grasp
an angel pulling a bow back back deep into my heart
chop chop and depression won’t raise his hands to you
never lay a hand on my honey
all over my back, warmed
holding the arrow
asleep with your hands
today is a challenge
challenge of a step
on a spiral staircase
around an oak tree
towards the moon;
you’ll find the top to be lonely and the bottom tempting
like a swimming pool
i wouldn’t let this go
i wouldn’t let this die
i’m not your average guy
i’m not going to dig an empty grave and wait
i’ll show you everyday
i’ll show you that i’m that fucking guy
every day
every moment
waiting for our next dance
waiting for our favorite song
the road;
a misunderstanding
broken trust landing
the sign said lover demanding-
a fools game played with fools gold
and i am in debt
not a risk or trust fall
takes money to make money
kitty poster on the wall
a misunderstanding
account overdrawn
a broken trust landing
never a i’ll be right there always a hang on
the sign said lover demanding-
under the red river walk-on
the squandered pawn shop
pumping muscle out of my vessel
traded for a penny for the ferry
jet tail on the sea front gambling on freedom
away from black crossbones away from eden
treason, the road will wash up, defeated
i passed-
a whole in the door
like cartoons in the morning
it’s over by eight;
and someone else has walked through
the door was only open
for twenty-two minutes
into a space
where doors are always open
i want to believe-
believe that today and the next are not a patch of air floating between my fingers
that your hands feel something real and not a figure of my imagination
is this- me
i can see what is real but it slips through my fingers
chasing like a dream i will fall through
ghosts of days i want to forget haunt the ones that i need to remember
is this- me
giving up like a dream i don’t know what is real anymore
maybe will buy a firehouse
make a dream of this nightmare
you watched me fall
you watched me climb, still watching
i know in her visions i am never stopping
a workhorse, mane and all
and i thank you for that:
dreaming on days when i can’t sleep
moving forward when my feet feel like concrete
living when i wasn’t sure how too
and i could never repay you-
i find myself wondering where you are,
if you’re still in the same city, playing the same guitar:
i left on a broken down car in the middle of a storm
lost in memories, in a jeep, with a ghost and you
no phone, no address, no one
a seven on my arm drawn in charcoal
the same one i drew on a casket not an hour earlier
and i haven’t seen you since
i hope you made it out of the storm too-
i love you- with only nine lines i couldn’t begin to explain
the light that i see in you, it is blinding
and i don’t need my mask, exposed to all of you;
it feels fucking great
your body in my hands warms my soul
my heart beats out of my chest when you’re near
and it’s been like that since you’re light touched me-
you’ll change the world, you’ve already changed mine
thank you
can’t finish first every time
you’ll finish short
and watch someone else cross your finish line-
i know
i know you can’t win them all but you were the one
so this one hits harder
everything feels so much farther
just watch the podium
this one wasn’t yours
they’ll talk about it for a week
and you’ll be gone
but be back
it was just one race
i never ran away with doubt
danced with greed
or slept with fear,
it was always clear vision-
no second thoughts of where i needed to be
who i needed to be
i have seen them laying and waiting
for me to slip up;
but i have left them behind
feet no longer on the ground
cut a whole in the boat they’ve all drowned
snuck out at night never made a sound
and they won’t see my number again on that answering machine
they’ll see me from a distance with you
jealous talking shit, but i’ll never split
seen it before
this is the part of the story were i start a fire;
same book, different page-
so lets burn the book
set fire to nights reflecting on those pages,
stay up all night and write new ones
laugh a little more love a lot harder
let you know that i will never run away
never be the one to be consumed by fire
i have been so tired
of this book- seared pages- same ending- new flames
not this time,
i am not the human tourch
or controlled by these fears-
we will write a new one
call it the kiddle
so no fire will come close
Saint's Muse 