My Wasted Year

Addicted to loneliness, deaf to all telephones, blind to all faces. Fell in love 2,806 times. Sweat through my sheets every night and wake up 2 hours to early. Used to be skin and bones, now just fat trapped in-between bones and skin, trying to sneak out in my sleep. Fevers with no cures, conversations with no spoken words. Some friends have died, others are just dead to me (or I am to them).
Sometimes I forget how to spell words, how to string together sentences, how to flirt, how to run, how to laugh, how to kiss, how to remember almost anything. Selling my snow globes to pay for energy, to run my television so I can get to sleep. Watched 5 parades rolls pass my window. Watched everyone move away and then they leave phone messages asking why I never call them back. Laying low. Real low. Hiding in plain sight, out of sight. Watched informercials, late night talk shows, reruns of baseball games, sitcoms, game shows, tennis matches, evangelists. No one said anything.
Funerals and grave sites and childhood homes. Car rides to nowhere, sleeping when I'm not tired and looking at designs in the walls. Sometimes I piss blood, other times I cough it up. Spit it out. Push it through my finger nails. Talk to cats or cars or movie stars or to paperbacks. Pray for rain then pray for sunlight then pray for rain then pray for morning. Wrote 200 songs that no one will ever hear or care about. Spent all my money on books i'll never read. No vacations. Gotta work. Gotta work. Gotta work. Saw 6 new doctors, got 7 new diagnosis. Lost in a sea of guilt and broken dreams and worthless confessions. Pretending. Postponing. Perplexed.

It's Easy to See, But Hard to Understand

Your Spine Tastes Like Honey

Digging My Way to Somewhere

Drinking Blood, Won't Keep Me Young

Happy Birthday, Frank Sinatra

Be Still

Foolish Forever

I Guess This is How I'm Going to Feel From Now On

The Past is a Blood Hound

Kiss Me Till I Bleed

Seeds of Nowhere

Gone in the Meantime

Building Uneven Branches