My Car

I’m in my car now 

You’re here too 

You don’t know it 

But you are. 

It’s quiet 

Because I forgot 

My stupid lightning adapter 

And even if I had it 

I’ve got a persistent headache 

So music wouldn’t do any good. 

I just prefer the silence. 

Which is funny 

Because I can’t seem 

To stop thinking, 

Replaying things in my head 

That don’t really matter 

But they’re there 

Like echoes 

Like lingering smoke. 

I hate the word 


Because it reminds me of you.


Everything reminds me of you. 

But anyways 


I’m sitting in my car now 

Writing a poem 

And I just performed 

On stage inside 

And there were people laughing 

But I was talking to you. 

It’s easier that way 

For some reason 

The words move 

More fluidly. 

Now I’m sitting 

On the edge of a spiral 

That points down 

And these words are 

Playing in my head,

It was good what we did yesterday 

And I’d do it once again…


I’m such a drama queen 

Opening the wound 

Just to feel something 

While I sit in the dark 

And somewhere 

Poets are also bleeding 

And somewhere else 

A child is surviving a chemical attack 

For no good reason. 

And I’ve got this headache 

That refuses to go away. 

And I feel wound the fuck up. 


Addicted to coffee now. 

Wishing I knew 

How to meditate 

Like I used to. 

And it just gets old. 

Being in this car.

I think I might scrap it 

And go live in a van. 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s