Victim

The fog sits on the shadowy, high-rise rooftops
Wet and weighty, ominous,
As if wiping a damp brush over everything exposed to the night.
The sun escaped the eve's oppression hours prior.
Every time I inhale, it leaves a saccharine, dank film on my tongue.

As I reach the building, I can feel the night's weight on me.
I light up the button for the tenth floor
I enter the steel capsule to head skyward.
As the door closes, the only thing in the air is the smell of you.
The scent is sweet and onerous.
I know you're waiting.
But not for me.

The scent torments me
As if it knew to be patient
And linger
Like the fog out the window,
Lying in wait because a victim, a sacrifice has been selected.

The metal cage bellows it's arrival. Tenth floor.
As I exit, I indulge in the stank of hallway cigarettes
For a silent moment before plunging through the door,
Taking in the grey blanket that hangs beyond the glass.
I'm full of the knowing that you're there
And that you're waiting,
But not for me.

T

Take your words

I'm the first to admit
And the first to be taken aback
When you make beautiful music
Whether it be filling a stairway when you think you're all alone
Or when you're joined in unison
By countless other soaring voices to fill a concert hall.
It cannot and does not
Change the fact that when I listen to your songs
My heart breaks
And it's impossible to place my hands upon
Anything but the sadness
Concealed inside all the interstitial space
In my soul.
Your voice, when it carries on the wind to my ears,
Brings rain and cloud
And an inability to escape the tapping on my tin roof
Of course it's possible that such sound can be soothing
But those constant raindrops hold the power
To break the stone sculpture in the garden
If given enough time.

So take your songs
And take your words
And keep them to yourself
Before they shipwreck me on some unseen rock
Or maroon me upon some unknown isle.
Take them so I don't have to drown.

T

Arbitrary titles

I'm all alone in the crowd around me
And I'm lost in the haze of all this sunshine
The wake you left when sailin' away
Has left me wonderin' will anyone ever be mine.

If you can ever find the time
Send me a postcard, but don't spend more than a dime
Take it as a simple sign
That there's no reason in my rhyme.

T

Platform

The wind's picked up and the sky's gone black
While the strangers, they're still staring.
The train doors stayed closed and tightly chained
While I remained alone, still waiting.

I bought a ticket and it remains in hand
But it's an anchor, not a buoy
It pulls me down while keeping me still
And I get left behind like a childhood toy

But worse than that, it was conscious decision
Of the conductor to leave me be
He saw me on the platform, ready to go
But he said he was settin' me free

I asked myself why I couldn't be
The author of that decision
A voice piped up and told me clear
That I couldn't commit to such a decision

So I guess on this platform with bag in hand
Is where I'll have to stay
While I grow a spine and wile away the time
Wondering, if I see her, exactly what I'll say

I don't know what to say
I can't find what I want to say
Find your words and tell me
Everything you want me to say.
On this platform is where I'll stay.

Balancing...

... is what I attempt to do in most aspects of my life. Whether it be my eating habits, my fitness regimen, or my work-to-play ratio. But lately it seems like it's been a challenge to balance what I want in the now and what I desire long-term.

I had a conversation with a friend of mine last night about such things, and she echoed my sentiments in many ways. We both went through times where we were with people for a while but knew in the backs of our minds that it wasn't going to be "it". And even though the companionship and comfort was there, it wasn't enough. My most recent real relationship ended for this reason. And although I'm happy with my decision to move on, I still often crave the companionship of someone. In small moments, weaker moments, it feels as though anyone will do. But I know me well enough to know that it's just a temporary solution (a scratched itch) to something buried much further in the recesses of who I am. I often crave the attention and companionship of others. I often seek out such connections, and with my closest friends I hide little and reveal much. But friendship can only go so far, especially at the age I'm at. With every calendar year, another marriage takes place, another apartment is packed up and transplanted in another part of the country or world, and another soul returns to the place from whence it came. Although these things don't take away the experiences that have been had, they often change or take away what could be. So like building a house on sand, things shift and become unstable. And so here I stand. Nothing but my shadow beside me.

A few people that have met me since my divorce (and even since my recent break-up) have asked me if I regretted anything about these relationships and how they ended or what happened in the pain/frustration of their wake. And my response continues to be the same: no. And I try to think about my life in general and I really have few things I regret. I've said foolish things in my past where some people have been offended or hurt, and there have been nights that I wish I hadn't indulged in that final whiskey, but I have few decisions I actually regret. Regret implies that you wish they wouldn't have happened. And even in the most brutal, shame- or rage-filled events of my past, I've always taken something away from it. Sure, I've thought about how I could've done things differently or reacted in another way to various things, but I continue to find these moments being the moments where I learn the most about myself (and sometimes about those around me as well). When I finally took off my wedding ring for the last time, I knew I was making the right decision for me, no matter how broken I felt. And as I said goodbye to the last companion, I likewise knew that it was necessary and I hadn't found what I was looking for quite yet.

I think that the time over this past week of holidays reinforced these sentiments a lot for me. I traveled south to Shanghai on my own, knowing that few familiar faces would be around and knowing that I'd have a lot of time living in my own head. It's definitely something I sought out and pursued, so it's not something I feel any sort of resentment toward. But this self-isolation doesn't cease to bring up the same feelings... that being able to share your experiences and your life with another person is something valuable. And it's something that I continue to seek. It's not a desperate need or a anxiety-inducing hope. It's just something that lingers in the silent moments, in foggy days, in glasses of wine or in the glance of a stranger.

The picture below is from my trip to Borneo and Mount Kinabalu. Seemed to fit. Until again...

T

New starts (more lines, more uncertainties, more words, words, words)

I'm standing here facing a new intersection
And I'm thinking about the possibility of another reinvention
While my friends laugh and joke about a personal intervention
I wonder what it'll look like when I get my own attention
I just can't seem to get my own attention

So on I walk, and further I'll go
New faces to meet and new seeds to sow
Some time on my own to wonder and to grow
Where I'll end up is impossible to know

I said goodbye again today and left it all behind
I didn't shed a tear because I already knew it in my mind
I smiled as I walked away, knowing that I'll find
Someone to make everything in my world shine
Why can't I hold on to anything that will make my world shine

But on I walk and further I'll go
New faces to meet and new seeds to sow
Some time on my own to wonder and to grow
Where I'll end up, only time will really show.

T

Disjunct sets and lines and quatrains

It's getting on,
It's late into the evening
As I wander through these halls alone
I wonder what I'm missing

I picked up a broom earlier today
To sweep up all that's broken
I found myself sweeping up myself
With the broom that I was holding

I can't get past all these shadowed rooms
That lie quiet in the dark
Some say they're harmless, they cannot bite
But they've seem to have made their mark

I'm slipping on Fridays, sliding on Saturdays
And Sundays I try to find my feet

Falling hurts more when you jump in
And never seem to find the bottom.

Subtle betrayals

The sun outside my window
Is betraying my misery
I'm stuck here, sitting, thinking
of all the places I'd rather be.

Curses (incomplete thoughts)

Curses cross the oceans
As do lightning storms
The winds blow in
Their regret and sin
And leave before the morn

T

Long hiatuses

Another murder lies beyond my window
These birds just cannot seem
To quell their morning howling
Or to stop indulging in their screams
Dark omens cause these small concerns
To flit like sparrows in the yard
But I know the places I am goin'
Well, they'll be taking me real far
And so the day still shines on
And there's sunlight all around
Old hearts will find the strength to mend
And new selves will be found

TM

Lenses

There's any number of endless days
Where I only see through a wide angle lens
An expanse of the blue-green horizon
That stretches on past the periphery
Of all I knew in yesterday

There are other, more uncertain days
Where every moment is lived out of focus
Like an attempt to see through
The fog of a mirror after a morning shower
Or in sunglasses clouded by breath
Before having the chance to be wiped clear

Finally, there are those days
That, in a lucky moment
Or in the precise conspiracy of time and light and patience
That the shutter click captures
Truth
However fleeting
And however temporary
A perfect moment
Where that very moment is fully presented
Before disappearing forever.

These are the moments we chase in film.

And in our dreams.

T

When

As I'm starin' out this window
I'm watchin' the sun goin' down
And I'm wondering about each moment
Up ahead

But darlin', don't be worried
Whatever place I'm headin' to
You can be sure that sooner or later
I'll find my way.

Well it's true I ain't no palm reader
And I lost my crystal ball
I'm fresh out of magic potions
But I know I ain't lost no more.

Baby, all I know is
I ain't lost no more.

- TM

When you let it all build

You've become adept at being strong
And letting everyone know
That it's all under control
But you like to keep secrets
Neglecting to mention
That it's hatred creating those calluses
And the anger that's making you hard

So build up all those walls around you
And let all those bricks shut out the sunshine
It's your fortress, after all
And you have to stay protected
Wrapped up and safe when your lay down your head

Just remember that in the meantime
You gotta find time to grow
Take a little water and reach toward the sky.

You let it all build
You stack it all up
But one day, baby
You'll have to let it all fall
Down.
Down. 
Down.

- TM

Adolescent finger games

Standing silent, the invisible topic of conversation, watching thumb wars and tag competitions and adolescent finger games between wordless lovers who speak a million miles a minute with a gaze or smirk. Toe taps and finger snaps accompany the repetitive nod of my head as high-hats click and ring, crash and sing along with words full of love that's gone missing. Ain't that always the thing... endless thoughts about what life has brought and brings.

What I got

I'm steppin' out the door again
Wondering where my feet will fall
I got myself a plane ticket
But no plan, darlin'... no plan at all

I got myself a world of plans
And no idea about what lies ahead
I'm lettin' this will decide
Where I'll start and where it will all end

A story from the day...

... as I was supervising my English class today as they were writing the essay component of their semester final, I was too cold to sit and grade other assignments (the north China wind was blowing too incessantly in my classroom window) so I decided to write a narrative on the same prompt as the kids. Enjoy.

*********************

My toes are curled over the edge of the building. I'm sure the question has to be asked: "What are you doing standing on the top of a high-rise with your toes wrapped around the stone lip of the ledge?" It has a simple answer, but you're not going to like it. It's an answer you're going to hate: I'm done. This is the end for me.

It's impossible to pinpoint one moment in time where this was a foregone conclusion. Don't misunderstand… my life's been brutal. I don't know if the fates have crafted this as an inevitable ending to my miserable, somewhat brief existence on the planet. Nonetheless, here I stand and that's not going to change.

One of the first big things was the divorce. No, not my divorce. I'm a kid. Well, I'm a kid in the sense of the typical designation. Seventeen isn't so much a kid in actual living terms when you look back on the "Greatest Hits" list of my life. And regardless, it happened when I was still in the more non-self-aware stages of life, where my only concerns were a clean diaper and food. I guess in certain ways life isn't so different now, but it's still an important distinction to make.

When it happened, I was a big inconvenience. My dad was a junkie, my mom was attempting to battle her own demons of booze and an abusive boyfriend, not to mention a meaningless job at Saver Mart. As you may have guessed, she didn't exactly run the show. About two months after I was born, my dad took off and he hasn't exactly sent much in the way of birthday cards. I got five bucks in one that was three months late when I was about five years old, but other than that, he's been MIA. He took my mom's car. Are you beginning to spot the run-on of cliches? Of course, he hasn't been around since. I think I saw a movie like this once. I guess I didn't think I'd have a starring role as the hopeless misfit.

The second big event came when I was about six years old. I woke up one morning in the spring time and my mom wasn't in her bedroom. Or in the bathroom. We lived in a dumpy, beat up mobile home on the outskirts of Welling, Alberta. Oh, you've never heard of Welling? Then you'll probably guess that it's not home to a giant hockey stick or monstrous rubber tire. Not much to see other than farmers combining and tumbleweeds rolling down the highway. And coyotes. Lots of coyotes. Anyway, I called out a few times. I was already pretty unhappy most of the time but knew how to cope. I could make food (as long as it didn't involve more than one pot… I was a wizard with grilled cheese or Iciban instant noodles). But as I called out more and more, I knew that something had different. I waited. I tried playing card games but just couldn't stay focused. I kept calling.

I then heard a BANG on the door to the trailer. I figured it was mom, drunk again and just falling into the door. But it wasn't. It was my neighbor Debbie. Some people called her Deborah. I always thought that she seemed more like a Deb. I don't know why. Well, as I opened the door, I saw Debbie's makeup was a mess and tears were streaming down her face. The only thing she kept saying was, "Baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

It was a few days before I found out that my mom had been killed in a car accident. She'd been drinking after work again and drove her car off the side of the road and into the canal running beside Johnson's farm.  I'll spare you the details, but it was grisly.

The rest of my life seemed like a series of unfortunate events. Or more like a Sunday night, made-for-TV special that suburban, two-parent homes would find heart-wrenching and would cause a whole lot of weeping and hugging of kids who don't believe that it's likely and therefore have no real urge to kiss their mom and dad goodnight. My routine was full of group homes, foster parent interviews, more group homes, a stint in juvey for having a knife on me at school during a fight (I never took it out, but after getting thrown to the ground it flew from my pocket). I got kicked out of the school… that was number three. And I did another stint for having a bit of pot on me at school (school number four… same result as previous). At this point, there weren't many people who had faith in me getting out of the rut. There were a few sympathetic counselors and such who urged me toward the right path. But in all honesty, it just didn't hold a lot of interest for me. I didn't see a point and didn't have much ambition to make more of myself. Having a warm bed was nice. The rest of it meant nothing.

Well, I guess you could say that the straw for this camel was the robbery. Yes, this time it was me. This kid Bobby from group home number five convinced me that we should get some cash by holding up a convenience store. He explained that it would be a simple hold-up job… that we'd just pretend to be armed (by flashing fake replica 9mms at the staff and jacking the register). Then we'd take off for the coast and start new out there. I know… in hindsight this doesn't seem like it could go anywhere but wrong. And that's exactly where it went.

It turns out that the replicas weren't exactly replicas. Bobby pulled his piece after we kicked in the door and after having a confrontation with the owner, blasted off two shots into the ceiling. I freaked a bit… in all my reckless behavior, I was never the violent type. The fights were more survival than anything and I never actually had the urge to hurt anyone. I just mainly wanted to be left alone and got a bit angry when people wouldn't comply. After the warning shots, Bobby took the owner to the floor and as I was shaking like a leaf, I started toward the register. I had the gun in my hand because the idea of blasting a shot into my groin did not appeal to me at all and I was scared as hell. So I jumped the counter, but in doing so, rested my right hand on the countertop. I've never attempted to hop a counter with a gun in my hand. Yep, another good guess… I accidentally pulled the trigger. And knowing my luck, you can assume what happened next: the shot avoided all merchandise shelving and advertising and went straight through the chest of some middle-aged guy who just wanted to buy a six-pack.

Maybe there was a way out. Not so much anymore. And anyway, I don't have any interest in going to jail… especially REAL jail. Nope. I'm ready to cut my losses. Even in all the bleary-eyed intoxication, mom always said there was something on the other side. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than this place. And a guy has to pay the price for his actions. I never expected it to be this way when Debbie stopped by when I was six years old, but my experiences brought me here and there's nothing I can do to escape them now. Just one more step… I guess I'll see you over there. Whatever that other side thing is.

TM

Brief Reflections

I reflect on all the happenings
Of all I've seen and all I've been through
And although I might be walking away
My thoughts continue to turn to you

You came in unexpected
Sat down and decided to stay
But now we're at a crossroads, darling
And I'm not sure if we'll live another day

I cannot tell you what the decision will be
Which way the wind will blow
So forgive my current uncertainty
About whether to stay or whether to go

T