on my sleeve

My convictions are my constrictions,
in a coiled truss of suffocation.
I wear this badge on my sleeve
while i try to fit and weave
through the smoke and empathy
and back to a path of sobriety.

Taken breaths
deep within my shins
are swollen to the trauma
circumstances are circumstantial.
but convictions
are convicted.












Meet Me In A Secret Place
older than this hollow ground

ink

Clutching the branch of a not so living tree
Rooted in the recently departed
I watch the horizon
The road bound to be pursued
Just waiting to catch the right breeze

tail-wind to home


still thinking about your blushing heart.

borrowed words "Stay Golden" - Au Revoir Simone

I saw it coming
I just thought that you should know
I'm feeling better every day
I'm only waiting if you stay
So don't feel bad
Your faith was an illusion
And you're as loyal as your faith
Will let you be

Your expectation
It's not hard to live without
I'm feeling better every day
And emptiness still leaves a space
So don't feel bad
You lost all your emotion
And may you find all your relations
Will keep you free

A careless bird is complicated
An empty nest still leaves a space

Why Bother.

Flock to the clouds with wings outstretched wide feeding the hunger for exposition is a frequent tool used to calculate, make metaphor, and contemplate which aids one with self discovery being the absolution of all things positive against the negativity that is conspiring all around goes the circle, participation appreciated without which a spiral begins to form and foundation this concrete is still wet,
so press your hands into its malleable surface will dry soon with patience for understanding concluding and coinciding to the elemental eclipse blocked out by reason for living rather than dying out extinct to the past of a present collapse soaked by looming woven fictitious events which can be laid to rest in a bed of solemn thoughts and transgressions become illusive in times of joy and non-existent when those memories can be washed over, cleansed, and referred to a medical professional who watches carefully over the subject with pen and paper on documenting the expressed emotive states which separate friends from family and distance in miles becomes distance is memories all those souls extinguished by fresh new land of beginnings far away from that facade called “home” breaching the horizon for new experiences as a force of expulsion, change, evolution, all things grow all things grow, welcome to the door of possibilities, cusp this handle with careful what you wish fortunately the severance pay with leave me to a world of pass and fail to acknowledge the current situation becomes a pleasantry where formal behavior is noted with the boarder of growth in this garden we once worked so hard on and now its being watered, treated, and cared for.

I can do this on my own but with your hand in mine why bother.

Answer to the fucking point.

i can only write when i'm miserable. so i'll leave myself in this state
the physicality of emptiness
so at least something is emminating from this
pointless waist of flesh bones and organs

unwravell me to find nothing more than a piece

the one piece of the puzzle that has no fitting counterpart

burn me to ashes, and the wind will find it a chore to lift me away

welcome to addiction to affliction

mortally deceit

dilapidated and emasculated
i lose more than i gain
and i gain
no piece of mind.



burn me to feel something


i loved you scarlet

THE FUCKING POINT

i have no audience, why should i share - when there is no one listening.


good by and farewell

words ignored

dearly departed

alex howard curtis

News Flash (6 of 6)

News Flash:
Weather reporting in with sunny days like shower braids,
Bring static through chords of meaningless frequencies,
Fade away to the breath of air swooning the beast as it lays in its slumber
Like a child nestled against mothers breast,
Beating hard against your ear,
Picks up signals from the host of another pointless talk-show.

News Flash (5 of 6)

Taking a leave of absence and laying down the crown, which weighs heavier than the burden of concentrated absolution.
I leave you to your studies of searching for answers and warding away the present to better suit your pessimistic view on the past is a bleeding willow with wallowing wayward winds with which we welcome.
Choose to walk away with no more than the day tucked under my arm without tact or charm so while you sit and question I’ve gone a different direction and when you choose to find me again I cannot promise my position is a place of change shifted through means of time and situational events.
Your sweet breath falls on my neck and you grasp my body with energy unfelt in years. Your bitter – sweet – sour – cheek is warm on my forever skipping monotone droning heart.