Verse 1:
The concept of last night
means everything and anything
to me.
This entails anything that
I can dream about
which means that anything and everything
is within my reach.
But then again
hindsight is always perfect
especially, after the aftermath
unfolds.
The misconceptions of our priceless worries
are easy to disguise, —and I,
well . . .
I am wondering and willing
to dare the concepts of new beginnings
of course,
because in all fairness,
my endings were misled
by my own madness.
I think about the sounds of broken pieces
that never fit the edges of their repairs
because no matter how we glue it back
the picture never seems to be the same.
“It’s ruined,” she says
“Over,” she yells, as in dead, and buried
and gone forever,
Shattered glass
trickles down from the windows
of the soul
Broken hearts that leave us disfigured
and crooked shapes of our spirit
that never fit back into place—
I know
How does one fix the unfixable?
Or how does one deny
The heart does not care
what can be fixed
or what is broken.
The heart wants to understand.
The heart wants accountability.
The heart wants what it wants
and therefore
the heart is willing to defy logic
and ignore rationality
because in all honesty
no one ever came along to say hey,
love is rational (because it isn’t)
and neither is hell
but I suppose Heaven could not exist
without it.
Verse 2:
If I were to dare the line
once more
then I would dare to walk the line
again
and again, too
if I had to because not daring
is the same as not living
and too many of us
walk around here
not knowing what it means
to be alive.
If I could,
I would walk the way
of the peaceful warrior,
and if I could
or if I failed you
then in fairness to my defense;
I would fear my place
would be lost in this world.
Or better,
I’d be afraid to go
back to the end of the line
because I missed my chance
once again,
and who knows what would happen –
and who knows,
would I ever have the chance
to love you again?
If it were so and fate
gave me a pass to walk alongside you
or be with you
then of course,
I would redefine the nature of my steps
and therefore, I would to see to it
that I never step away from you—
only towards,.
Chivalry does not have to be dead
at least, not by my hands.
What this means is,
if you and I were to be walking
down the street
then I would be sure to have you walk
beside me on the inside of the sidewalk
so that oncoming
or outgoing traffic behind me
could not touch you
If I could
I would be there buffer.
If it were so
and if there were a chance
then I would see to it
to leave nothing unsaid
I would lay down my coat
over the proverbial puddles
so that you could walk over
or so that you never suffer,
and yet,
I am shaking my head to admit
I worry about my so-called
flaws that have caused
others to suffer.
I worry about my mistakes
and the friendly fire
that took down innocent bystanders
which was all due to my own shortcomings
and self-fulfilled prophecies.
I say this because yes,
you and I both know
that neither you are I are not
prophets, nonetheless.
We are just travelers.
Traveling . . .
Seeking
Searching for salvation
on an otherwise
sinking ship
which I always refer to as
Project Earth.
Verse 3:
Sometimes I coincide with the mood
that I am in
and I go along
and wish that I could see the moon again
as it moves over Manhattan
which is the kingdom
I call New Yok City.
Sometimes
I combine my dreams with casualties
to create a better reality
I do this because
whomever it was who said,
“back to the old drawing board,”
never had his drawing board destroyed
or lost his muse—
Or, maybe whomever said this lost it all
and maybe they lost more than I dared to sacrifice
and yet, they still dared to try
and sacrifice again.
How many times do you try to love someone
“and counting”
Or –
When do you stop loving someone
when you can’t stop loving them?
I truth
the answer is never
because chemistry
does not consider reality
and in all reality
no one can really stop loving their true love
not even
if they tried.
Sometimes I wonder what the stars see,
like, say
while walking alongside the Hudson River
late and past midnight,
watching the full moon’s light dance
in the black water’s ripples.
I have to say
the river moves pretty fast
as it reaches out
to find the sea.
Maye I am too slow
(you know?)
Across the Hudson
is the place called New Jersey,
my former enemy
and a past nemesis of mine
and behind me,
there is an uptown life
that never manifested
or, maybe
behind me is my yesterday
and as I have said before;
as I find myself
walking beneath
the midwinter’s moonlight
I can rest assured
that tomorrow is gone
and neither you nor I
can live there anymore.
No need to sign the eviction notice.
The Landlord already knows.
No reason to leave behind
a forwarding address.
Just move.
“But I don’t want to!”
I know
Neither do I
Verse 4:
It is funny to find our accusations
amusing, and I laugh at this now
because it is funny to me
to see how two people can lie about
the same thing
and point fingers
at one another
to define who is at fault.
I am no better
and you are no worse.
I am no weaker
and you are not stronger.
Together
we are equally wounded
equally guarded
and equally misguided
by a past that does us
no justice
I have to leave the fight behind me,
that is if I a to find you ad what lies ahead of me.
I have to leave my past behind
because I realize this;
there is no substation
when it comes to items of the heart.
There is no such thing as
fake until you make it, —at least,
not when it comes to love.
And love?
Love takes work.
Love takes effort.
And yes, love hurts.
Like, when the man with the plan
gets his hands dirty
and digs his fingers
in the soul of the Earth.
He plants his seeds in the soil
to grow his dreams beyond compare
and, if so,
the man with the plan has to work
to make this so.
And so, consequently
this is why I’m here
With regards to the garden
the man with the plan
has to labor;
he has to endure the pain
and the aches
and he has to watch
and learn.
Love is not free
and nor is love ever truly unconditional
because even love dies
without the effort it takes
to breathe.
I know. . .
. . . I was wrong
but that was before . . .
There are no solutions
that solve the argument
when both are wrong
and neither side
can calm down.
So, let me start here
I am fine to be wrong.
Besides . . .
What’s the difference?
I am fine to take the blame
and that’s fine
because the fact remains
that I have blamed myself
a thousand times before
which is enough
. . . for one lifetime
Breaking the cycle
means breaking the cycle
and hence
I do not need to redefine
the definition of insanity
by doing the same thing
over and over
and expecting different results.
There is no law that says
we have to die this way.
No one ever said that hate
has to win
and that resentments}
have to be right.
There is no rule
that says the fights that broke us
need to continue
to break us apart
forever.
We can end this feud
at any time
and so, as a sign of truce
I lay down my weapons
here and now
and let my scars reach out
to broker the peace
between us.
Verse 5:
I am thinking about the concept of
last night
and let’s be reasonable,
there are times when we say, “last night”
and then, of course,
there are the last nights
of say, the last and final night
when two can be together.
I cannot submit to the fact that
life is coincidental
or that the world around us
is nothing more
than a series of happenstance.
Everything happens for a reason.
Is that right?
And, if so,
then what would it look like
if we let the reasons we find ourselves here
be good enough to realize that we are here
for a reason
You and me
alive and well,
despite the bumps and bruises
because to be honest –
I don’t need to be right anymore.
No.
I’d much rather be happy.
Verse 6:
My secrets are no longer safe
with you because
as I see it
my secrets have ways or resurfacing
and haunting our future
with the chance that my history
can repeat itself.
So, rather than harbor my secrets
and harvest resentment
let me come clean
Here . . .
I am no less a weary traveler
or more of a peaceful warrior
than I am a human
who believed the wrong story.
I am no less victim of my past
than I am a product of my environment
and therefore,
I can no longer be a product of my excuses
because anything else
is just an excuse.
I did what I did
head down
neck bent forward
humble
I submit myself to the truth.
I have done the world wrong.
I’ve taken too much
and replenished too little.
I have been dirty before
underhanded and yes,
I rationalized my actions
while justifying my behaviors
because as I saw it
I was broken
and so
it was just my jagged edges
that cut the flesh of the innocent.
Maybe the shapes of my soul
are jagged and broken
and perhaps,
maybe yours are too.
Maybe the reasons why we fit so well
are the same as why two magnets repel
one another, —and yet,
it would be dishonest of me
to say that you and your soul
are not magnetic to me
because you are
You hold me
more than you know
and no,
neither you nor I
are prophets
or fortune tellers
but wherever you go
just know
that so do I
Broke pieces
and all.
The Written Addiction 