I walk lightly,
still waking myself up,

it must be the egg shells,
     stuck in my feet,

I know,
I’m dirty,
despite
these six months clean,

in a dressing room
       trying on
             my own outfit
                     differently,

sure, my life could use some change,
this cashier just keeps ignoring me,

my eyes have lost
                       their flame

funny how I always feel
                       the same.

wide open,


“Hey man I love your poems,
They’re thought provoking!”


I wrote them

for you and the rain,
while I was enjoying
     a cigarette,

things you do
     when every kite
          you ever owned
               ended up in a tree.

nice to meet you,
my name is
Broken English

my  hobbies are
going the distance,
blowing out candles
and scratching my head
in confusion,

tell me something
I don’t know,

unspoken,

emotionally exploding
in the direction
of perplexing non-sense

wrote it down
     but lost it.
          picking the lint
              out of opinions
                    that probably belong in my pocket,

sitting heavy in my own mistakes.
Leaving finger prints everywhere,

turning myself in.


"Add this to your favourites just
Don't ask me what it means."


my inner child ran away.