Rough Draft

I'm dark and twisty inside like the roots of an old oak
and pour my love out onto paper and I'm dying for what I know
I'm dying for love and for art and it keeps me breathing and it gives me hope
that some kid might hear me and fill up their chest with fresh air knowing what I know.

And I pour my heart out onto paper and I'm dying for this show.
It's gritty and it's hard and sometimes I think I don't know how much further I can go
but I go, and I hope that when I get there I'll find you washing your fears away with hope.
that I might find you inside me reading what I wrote and ripping out my pages
just to keep me close to you, my words in your mouth and you'll keep the perforated edges in your pocket for ages,
almost as long as this old oak is living, or dying or twisty inside for all the secret wounds it's hiding.
and I'm dark and twisty too but I stopped trying to hide it.
Stopped pushing it down like a beast in a cage trying to get out because it doesn't like the bars.
So I let it out and it rips up these pages and it spits out truth,
the honesty I choked on and swallowed down and caged with gritted teeth and clutched fists,
not so different from you.

So I pour my life out onto paper and I'm dying,
dark and twisty like the roots of an old oak,
paper mache made and dripping glue like love and heart and hope.

Untitled

I haven't had much inspiration lately. I'm not sure if it's the island or of it's just from being busy or otherwise preoccupied but, nonetheless, I haven't written much of anything.

This is the first draft of anything in months.



Untitled

This Tuesday,
on Nantucket island,
the sky is as clear as I've ever seen it.
Each star is bright enough to light up a tiny piece of my world,
and I see it all.
It goes on forever,
as far out as ever was or ever could be there is quiet and darkness.
It's peaceful.
It's almost as if, if I close my eyes for long enough,
I might be found laying belly up to the endless ocean of giggling lights
and back against the creaky old beams of ship.
All sea and stars.
Yes, if I close my eyes for long enough,
I feel the sky I see.
But there is this other twinkle, too.
This crackling that isn't the boards beneath my back at sea,
or the waves crashing against the horizon.
It's something more like the whispering pop of a tired kerosene lamp deep in your chest.
And even though you are hills and valleys, oceans and mountains away from me,
I can hear it.
there is this glow about the night, like the glow in your gaze, that warms me.
The waves beat the sand and the foams makes a shhhhhhhh,
like your breath against the crest of my neck as we sleep.
I am haunted in this darkness of as far as ever was or ever could be,
because you are not in it.
It's a shame to miss you so much because the stars are so beautiful.

Ay Dios Mio

Listener (my new favorite band/person) is playing in Cheltenham, UK on Saturday August 27th and Sunday August 28th at 8 pm.

For those who don't know, Cheltenham, UK is about 4 hours SW of Newcastle Upon Tyne (where I will be attending college).

I'm thinking a weekend trip to Cheltenham might be awesome. Maybe the age to rent a car is lower there and David and I (my forced travel companion who will enjoy this band whether he wants it or not) can drive there and see some countryside along the way.

I am so excited about this.

More to come on this!

Listener

WOODEN HEART (sea of mist called skaidan)
We’re all born to broken people on their most honest day of living
and since that first breath... We’ll need grace that we’ve never given
I've been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts
and it's not only when these eyes are closed
these lies are ropes that I tie down in my stomach,
but they hold this ship together tossed like leaves in this weather
and my dreams are sails that I point towards my true north,
stretched thin over my rib bones, and pray that it gets better
but it won’t won’t, at least I don’t believe it will...
so I've built a wooden heart inside this iron ship,
to sail these blood red seas and find your coasts.
don’t let these waves wash away your hopes
this war-ship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors
pulling fist fulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviors
but I know that we are all made out of shipwrecks, every single board
washed and bound like crooked teeth on these rocky shores
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

I am the barely living son of a woman and man who barely made it
but we’re making it taped together on borrowed crutches and new starts
we all have the same holes in our hearts...
everything falls apart at the exact same time
that it all comes together perfectly for the next step
but my fear is this prison... that I keep locked below the main deck
I keep a key under my pillow, it’s quiet and it’s hidden
and my hopes are weapons that I’m still learning how to use right
but they’re heavy and I’m awkward...always running out of fight
so I’ve carved a wooden heart, put it in this sinking ship
hoping it would help me float for just a few more weeks
because I am made out of shipwrecks, every twisted beam
lost and found like you and me scattered out on the sea
so come on let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, just some tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

My throat it still tastes like house fire and salt water
I wear this tide like loose skin, rock me to sea
if we hold on tight we’ll hold each other together
and not just be some fools rushing to die in our sleep
all these machines will rust I promise, but we'll still be electric
shocking each other back to life
Your hand in mine, my fingers in your veins connected
our bones grown together inside
our hands entwined, your fingers in my veins braided
our spines grown stronger in time
because are church is made out of shipwrecks
from every hull these rocks have claimed
but we pick ourselves up, and try and grow better through the change
so come on yall and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, were just tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

credits

from Wooden Heart, released 06 July 2010

More Pictures of Patrick and Myself

Why none of these pictures are of both of us together, I couldn't tell you. Nonetheless, here are a few.

Goofy

He would be saying, "Please stop taking pictures of me" if he could resist my charm.

Looking a bit like a mermaid and damn proud of it.

Experiments in reflection.

Patrick

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