Poems

Crowd That Should Be Mine This is the crowdthat should be mineevery roarevery chantevery out-of-tune line I play dirty basementsfor drink tickets and spitesweat peeling wallpaper off brickwhile twelve bored facescheck the light You headline festivalsscreens towering over the zoneswhole fields movinglike they are wired to your bones Same townsame startsame bills on the groundback […]

Dead Air Riot This dead air turns riotin my chestI am done playing quietwhile you pound your painagainst my rest I speakyou scrollthat is the whole damn storyin four short words I throw you my coreyou throw me bored You call when you need a therapisthang up when I need a handevery call that starts

Crimson Heat Crimson desireburning throughnothing left right nowbut you Red like evening lightyour mouth is tasting sweetthe want is written on the skina heavy steady beat Inside the fading greythe shapes begin to mergelost inside the redI feel the hunger surge Every touchlights up the wireinside the heatof red desire

Crosswalk Chalk You cut in lineevery time I tried to speaksteamrolled over my voicelike gum under your heelon the street You talked about loyaltywhile pocketing my worklike unpaid stock Waved from the windowwhile I stood stuckon the cornerat the crosswalk

Crawl For Your Cut Crawl for your cutthat is the price I like to payyou get to live another monthI get to shave another pieceoff what you thought you were worthtoday I sit at the top of a long glass tablewatch you shift in your cheap suitsweat through your lie You need this contractto feed

Cries from the Lonely Spire [Chorus]Hear the calls from the lonely height, sound of wars long doneInside his chest, the past is tight, the lines of doom are spunAs the sun drops from the edge, his spirit sings the painIn the empty sounds of time, where memories remain Verse 1In the shade of the dark

Cracked Screen, Open Mind He’s got a broken public school laptopand a brain that will not quithungry for the kind of answersthat don’t fit on a worksheet split System says “sorry, budget’s gone”like that explains the burnbut his screen might be dead plasticand he still wants to learn Library cart rolls down the hallwaywith a

Cradle Made of Sky Little star who never touched the earthbut changed the gravity of our daysyou rewrote the map inside our heartsthen drifted home in other ways Every tear that falls for youis proof that love can bloombefore helloand every quiet empty spacestill holds the lightyou started to grow If there is a cradle

Countdown In Red Countdown in redon the inside of my skullnumbers droppingwhile I look straight through your grin If I hit zeroI am dragging all your secretsinto floodlightslet the crowd see every stainon your skin I am done playing martyrwhile you dance on my wreckif I burnyour history snaps at the neck You turned my

Counting Pills, Counting Hours I’m counting pillsand counting hoursterrified of bothrunning out Measuring the dayin aches and limitsin whispersand in doubt Alarm goes off before the sunrisebones already stabbinglike they’re late Back locked uplike rusted hingesthat never quite cooperate I roll out of that cheap mattressin three careful ugly movesevery step a small negotiationwith a