Misguided Ghosts

I'm going away for a while
But I'll be back, don't try and follow me
'Cause I'll return as soon as possible
See I'm trying to find my place
But it might not be here where I feel safe
We all learn to make mistakes

And run
From them, from them
With no direction
We'll run from them, from them
With no conviction

'Cause I'm just one of those ghosts
Traveling endlessly
Don't need no road
In fact they follow me

And we just go in circles

Now I'm told that this is life
And pain is just a simple compromise
So we can get what we want out of it
Would someone care to classify,
Our broken hearts and twisted minds
So I can find someone to rely on

And run
To them, to them
Full speed ahead
Oh you are not, Useless
We are just

Misguided ghosts
Traveling endlessly
The ones we trusted the most
Pushed us far away
And there's no one road
We should not be the same
But I'm just a ghost
And still they echo me

They echo me in circles

R.I.P. 05-02-10

2,500 miles traveled in less than 42 hours.
this was the place where he thought he'd write his masterpiece,
standing in front of a wall where his father's ashes rested.

the words didn't flow like he wanted them to.
instead, tears streamed down his face, wiped off by his trembling hand.
if only tears could be read,
his novel would already be completed.

there's a saying someone told him to help ease his pain,
"it gets better with time."
it doesn't.

he once believed that the void in his heart could be filled.
filled with the satisfaction of a job that paid well,
the love of a beautiful woman
or God.

but those ideas were only temporary fixes,
that slowly disappeared like the sun setting in the horizon,
and once again he was left feeling alone.

the more he tried to forget,
the more he tried to ignore,
the void only grew bigger, more painful.

as he stood there looking for the words to write he took in a deep breath and looked around.
he wondered how busy a cemetery really gets and what is the proper dress attire.
the air was wet on his skin and the sun burned his face.






silence.






and for no reason,
with no real significant moment,
it came to him.

death wasn't about forgetting or moving on
because no matter what he did,
that void was still that drunk he didn't want at a party.
that void was still that traffic he didn't want to sit in.
that void was still that ex-girlfriend he didn't want to accidentally bump into.
it will always still be, no matter what.

death is about welcoming that void into his life as if it was his own flesh and blood.
looking deep into the darkness and saying, "hi"
because the more he lets it know it's there,
the more it loses interest in him,
like a child does with an old toy.

he stands in front of the plaque that reads "Peter J. McCauley."
his chest feels lighter,
his body adjusting to the lack of weight holding it down.

after years he's found some peace with his father's death,
no longer putting himself on trial for a crime he didn't commit.

he writes down on a piece of paper three words his father would say to him as a child,
tucks it behind the flowers that guards his ashes and says,
"i love you Dad."

A Poem From the Best Boyfriend West of the Mississippi.

Let me explain,

it's not what you think.

When I call you a cunt,

I don't mean it in a negative way.
It's an acronym for my true feelings.

Caring
Understanding
Nurturer
Tolerant

It has four letters,

like love.

And when it comes down to it,

what does love really mean?

Loser
Over-thinker
Violent
Embarrassing

Using the word C.U.N.T. is my way of expression.
Originality.
Something I thought you always appreciated about me.
How I express myself so openly.
Never second guessing the consequences of my actions.
It's why you stay with me.

So know that when I call you a C.U.N.T.,
It means I would walk to the edges of the Earth
to make you happy.
That I think about you when I need to smile.
That I don't L.O.V.E. you and never will L.O.V.E. you.

Ben Harper - Another Lonely Day

beer pressure

he sits and listens to the many reasons why she doesn't love him.

there's no spark.
she feels like he answers for her and not himself.
he's not social enough.
he's too social.

and as the list continues, as the contradictions build,
he thinks to himself, "when the time is right i will remind you why i no longer love you."
but for now he continues to drink
and consume the excuses why it's "more complicated" than he thinks it is.

A Candle Light Ballet

He sits in the corner on the floor,

using a candle to light this room.

Unpacked boxes piled on top of each other.

He ignores the pictures that are stored inside of them.

The pictures with the false smiles and faces showing secrets of a failed relationship.

Only holding on because love is ignorant and she refuses to say no.

He asks himself rhetorical questions.

He knows the answers. He knows how he got here.

And as the light flickers the shadows on the wall tell a story of a time when loves wasn't so complex.

When honesty wasn't a fictitious word.

When love meant it's definition and not a word used to fill a void.

And as Act III comes to an end, he refuses to applaud.

The light dims.

He sits in the corner with unpacked boxes.

No Way Back -- Foo Fighters

Lately, I've been

Livin' in my head

The rest of me is dead,

I'm dying for truth.

Make me, believe,

No more left and right,

Come on take my side,

I'm fightin' for you,

I'm fightin' for you.

Pleased to meet you take my hand,

There is no way back from here,

Pleased to meet you say your prayers,

There is no way back from here,

But I don't care,

No way back from here.

Wake me, I'm ready,

Somethin' don't seem right,

I was dreamin',

I was talkin' to you,

Memory, mend me,

No one's seen my share,

Things I can't repair,

I'm breakin' to you,

I'm breakin' to you.

Pleased to meet you take my hand,

There is no way back from here,

Pleased to meet you say your prayers,

There is no way back from here,

But I don't care,

No way back from, here.