Steady as she goes

Wake to limbs half numb, another nights sleep gone wrong
but I shake shake shake the dreams away, and I turn my face towards the new day.
stumbling, tumbling I make my way, passionately surviving on the ghost of come what may.
pouring stories from lips and memories from pen, losing touch with what could have been.
Steady as she goes, lighting fire with spite, waging war on forever though I can't be bothered to fight.

My Favorite things

So I was thinking to myself yesterday, about how it's been a long while since I found Joy in random things and unexpected moments. I found this in my Journal. It's from about 4 or 5 years ago, so I'm leaving out references to the Ex, but the rest still holds true.  I just forgot to sit back and enjoy these things like I used to.

My favorite things:
The last few drinks of a blended coffee...always whipped cream. Playing morning games with Aidan. Getting letters in the mail. Walking barefoot in the grass. Hearing the ocean waves pulling stones away from the shore. Finishing a poem. Recognizing my new favorite song. Meeting new people from far away and finding what makes them awesome. Losing the butterflies and finding comfort. Feeling the butterflies again, along with the comfort. Playing my first ever song on the guitar even though it only consists of two chords. Kissing my mothers hair. Hearing that I'm beautiful from a stranger for no reason at all. Singing in the shower.  Coffee in bed. Beer in the tub.
Walking in the rain.

Love of a Musician

A man of words where I had few
he sang a song my heart beat to
with a glint of memories passing by
in the freflection of neon in his eye

in this tiny town strangers pass through
this tiny bar every soul I knew
the stools were worn and the carpet gray
old men come to drink life away

This soul in the corner, guitar in callused hands
and a loging deep within me to know this man
the secrets of his smile and the story in his song
a wish to walk away with him, though my mind knew it was wrong

the heart of a musician is never free to give
and the love of a musician never lasts enough to live

a drink and a smoke and a tear in my eye
the love in his song would do to get me by

Between Her and Me

She was mostly consumed by the desire to figure it all out...that girl I used to be. Too young to be tired but too old not to see that the world was not handed to people like me. And behind the mechanics where things aren't always so clean she lingered, curious and and anxious to see. Where life is dazzlingly seedy. Smoke filled and neon. She ate it up and called it life though whatever it was slipped right between her fingers in mockery of her nonchalant acceptance. And the pictures will show you the joke was on her. Bright eyes so out of place in a realm of vacant stares. And when times changed and her world shrank into not easy but something close to comfort she got to know tired. She got to know gravity. She came to know balance little by little and that girl became me. I look at the pictures of a smile before it came to know joy and still find myself envious. Because what she had was simple. But if a person lays in the dark as many hours as I have searching the corners of my heart as I have... You don't wake to the morning in dread. You groan and you work out the stiffness of the new day and then you dive in and you seek out your joy. You don't let it find you.
That's the difference between her and me.

The Picture in My Mind

Randomly puzzle pieces seeking me searching for a place to be.
But my memory is shaken, they seem to be mistaken.
I have no answers in the form of a question
or faintly remembered high school lesson
to set the chaos to order in me.

I seem to recall a haze of grays
three degrees colder, three shades darker than I pictured in my mind.
Now here he stands with outstretched hand,
three inches shorter, three miles farther than I pictured in my mind.

But he's mine.
And I don't need to understand why
he's mine.

Midnight Song

Midnight song playing in my ear tangled against crazy perfect dreams, suspended in the dark.
I hear your voice beyond it all, singing loud coaxing sleepy smiles from my lips.
"Where you at?" I long to say. But what I mean is
"where will you stay?"

Drew

Where the call's from, I don't know but he's carrying my heart in tow.
He might suspect but doesn't know, that I want to be there too.
I dreamt a dream of friendship on fire, fingers singed from their desire.
Of open hands to hold my heart entire, but dreams always fade too soon.
I feel you wander, drift away, to call again some other day.
And what I feel I will not say. Your ears have no more room.

The March

marching in place but making time, wrap you in thoughts laced with iron and wine.
page upon page penned secret at night, lovers untouched and hidden from sight.
shit isn't bad, but burning it's worth, while your anxious laugh is turning the earth.

and here we go marching, making time but not ground,
making memories from words under the nose of the hound.

the names and the faces merge into one, the others like you,
left me standing
but still  spun.

Wash Away

washed away the day because it didn't go my way
washed away washed away
brush my teeth before I sleep, because there's not much left to say

pull back the sheets, slip in my feet, pray to the "lord" my soul to keep
but it's still just me, and me, I'm beat.
and none of this matters anyway...

when my day is done, and the race is run
I may not have won...today

And most days dont mind, got tomorrow on my mind,
but tonight I want it all to wash away
wash away

empty space where my finges fold,

the place reserved for his hand to hold

but he's left my fingers to fall where they lay

cold and lonely like today

close my eyes and count to ten
don't open til I can breath again
what is lost to me belongs to them
and the rest just wash away...