I am losing control of the language again

New stuff. Stuff I really like. The first poem was inspired by an unreleased early version of Prince's Elephants and Flowers. I also completely ripped off three or four lines from that. It's kind of unlike anything I've ever written. The phrase "only lovers left alive" isn't original, but its one I've been wanting to use for a very long time.
The second one was inspired by my sister using the title title phrase, hence her name in the subtitle, though she has nothing else to do with it. In a way its much like pretty much everything I write: depressing as hell and championing loneliness.  Most of its from the point of view of a character I don't know very well, but there's one line that's directly out of my own existence. Also, the line "all that's good is leaving" was cribbed from a Lindsay Fuller song, but I'm pretty sure I meant it in a different way than she did. Enjoy! Comment! Etc.!

 “only lovers left alive”

love leaves her stranded

on a cold november night

she finds a club, finds a drink

finds a partner she don’t have to teach

she focuses on the patterns, lets the night take her in its sweep

she takes the boy by the hand

the only thing he understands

is that she wants him on the dance floor

this is nothing new, a flash of heat

emotions strange, flattery flows like perfume

the boy’s barely alive

barely legal, barely anything

but he’s a natural, his body knows the way

she puts a finger to his lips

as if it’s a question, and he the answer

they’ll lose each other tomorrow

tonight belongs to sweat

frantic in a haze, they embrace each other

and for some brief, undefined moment

they are the only lovers left alive

“leaving las crucas (for kathryn)”

leaving las crucas with the weight behind me

liquor bottles in the backseat, belly full up

red eyes focused on the rearview

as if something is bound to give chase

maybe if i keep my foot on the pedal i won’t collapse

anywhere you go, you’re moving forward

never know what you’re leaving until it’s gone

when i think about the bad days

 i want to make the ones coming worse

i would break my back for salvation, but i’d only fuck things up again

endless chances brought about by endless cans of oblivion

i found my way past you, now i can’t find my way back

I never think about what i’m giving up until i’ve bartered it away

prayers were answered, but

i didn’t realize until i had shit on the results

don’t know what city i’ll leave next

all that’s good is leaving

i can’t escape myself,  the ruins behind me, they pace my memories

no such thing as safety in numbers

the only sure thing is staying alone and focused ahead

Now i was 18/out there on the block/Selling drugs/With a gun at my waist/And for people I had no love

My current goal is to put something new up here every two weeks or so. I'm trying to write at least one new thing a week so that should give me enough to hold onto. I like to hold onto a few that no one has seen. This poem isn't great. It's actually pretty stereotypical Whitelaw. If you've read a lot of my stuff you've seen these themes over and again. Aw well.

“insufficient data”

do i wish that i was never born?

i don’t know what the alternative would have been

i don’t have enough information

to make an informed decision

do i wish that i was dead?

not right now, things are okay

but that could change

at any moment

the frailty of existence

tempts me into low times

but i’ve heard that there are better things

than being sad and alone

i might investigate that theory any day now

 or not, and I’ll stay where I’m sitting

as i’ve done for years

bleeding ink like tears onto paper, or into nowhere

Two poems

I know it's been an eternity, fuck it. Here's two new poem.I don't remember where the first one came from, but at some point while I was writing the second I started thinking about an obscure (is there any other kind) Vic Chesnutt song, "Backsliding Deist's Prayer" and I found a direction. I think these were both written in August, and they're pretty goddamn depressing. Summer brings out the worst in me.

“backsliding atheist’s prayer”

it is always dusk

wherever it is i come from

the shops open and close and

nothing changes, not a dimmer or brighter light

the sun hurts my eyes

the dark scares me sober

i’m never safe

but i can’t return home

my sentence was stiffly read

i couldn’t choke up an alibi

i’ll take the flames, or i’ll take the ice

but i’ll never take back my word

the knowledge is the hardest part

it’s difficult to be afraid when there’s nothing to fear

but i’m backsliding again

 and there isn’a thing to hear my prayer

“another one for the lovers”

i reached to hug her, she snuck a kiss, i didn’t mind

as i closed her car door i looked back

i returned her smile, that was the last time i saw her

disaster is a slippery thing, it always surprises

most love affairs never get started

they present themselves like puffs of smoke

if it gets into your lungs

you hold it like a crack hit, never wanting down

everything ends, whether in sprit, or in deed

some are luckier than others in this regard

some enjoy the eternal suffering, some go after it like badminton

we all end in the same place, we might as well enjoy it how we can

\

"my whole life hand been one cliche country unfinished line after line"

"my stupid lusts"

it feels so lonely, like i'm doing something i ain't supposed to
my stupid lusts go places i didn't guide them
and i smoke cigarettes as fast as i can light them
your face flashes through my mind  and i apologize to the memory of you
but there ain't no god in the sky, and there ain't no one left to answer the question of why

do i wish myself to return to six am busstops?
begging fro a reprieve from every sort of sordid detail?
a step backwards or a step forwards into children and sitting still
let me chew my fingernails, just this once
i'll chew them until they're bloody, and i'll read our fortunes in the remains

through every sort of collapse, i know you asked
all of the right questions, and found me frail
but i told you i was askew the first time you came knocking
if you're ever not here, the only comfort i have won't be in words
but i won't borrow your love, the only way i'll accept it is if it's for keeps

frame the clock, sour days, it slows
i'm in your taillights in my bad dreams but, woman there are so many of you
why is it i can only find comfort in one?
why  must i dare myself forward?
why must i risk every, every single thing?

There is some K. in here, probably other people as well. I was listening to a Josh T. Pearson song that is like this eleven minute vomit of words and sadness. I think I was going with something similiar here, and it's the first successful non-sonnet I've written in a while.

"With her hands on her hips Oh and that smile on her lips"

"troof # 3 (for k. # 2)

i'd tell yer life were hard if ya didn't alread know
and i'll whisper lessons learned in songs to our children
mixed with the secret troofs from my history, my silent past
shortly after i tatoo hearts over my scars
as i memorize each thing that makes you smile

you listened to me ramble about the roadside graves
because you love me, then you shut me up with a kiss
and i apologized for nothin', but i started to count
every second with you, i don't wanna forget a one
i just want to dance, i just want you to know

and we're back in your bed, and i can't hold you close enough
and i can't explain my pride or how you light my life
but i can see my life with you before us like a river
and i can see the way you'll look twenty years from here
if you want me i'll be for you, and if you tell me, i'll be what you need

I started going with something experimental, but dropped it pretty quickly. I swear I'm trying to write about other stuff, but life is too good right for me to be miserable. Fucking hell. I'm on a Springsteen kick. Maybe that'll help.

rant/poem

Since I can't rant about this on Facebook I will do so here. Your loved one is dying from cancer. OK, I'm sorry for your loss. I'm also glad god stayed her execution for another day or so, maybe. Don't you have to think about this, though? This person is filled with cancer.. if you're going to acknowledge the existence of a conscious creator, where THE FUCK did the cancer come from? Why is your loved one dying in pain? Did they piss off god? Also, really. At this point isn't it pretty much guaranteed that they are going to die relatively soon no matter what is done? Why are you wasting resources simply so this person can suffer a little longer? For the love of whatever the fuck is holy. If I ever have to go through this shit myself put me down. I will ask you to. Listen. There is no god. Enjoy the time you have with those you love, but know when it's time to say goodbye.
On a lighter note, a poem. The title is related to this song:

Send me a PM (those I talk to know how to contact me), and I might explain it to you. The poem is a pretty decent sonnet

"for k. # 1 (i never crossed myself)"

i swear to god i've been here before

i wrack my brain, but i find nothing

when you're in my arms you're the only thing

no other person on earth exists

can i lie to you?

can i tell you i'll make everything fine?

no, don't talk, just let me kiss you

let me murmur as i bask in your warmth

i will celebrate you. you're something worth shouting for

you're the air i breathe

let us collaborate

you're the only thing i ever want to need

your soil is fertile, as is my heart 

the joy you've planted there is the best i've known

when you touch me, i'm immortal

when you smile, you're the sun

"if ever i could love myself.."

"patterns"

this is what my life has been reduced to
looking forward to seeing my cat
after hugging a pretty girl goodbye
googling obscure dylan lines
while smoking, and cursing into the night

i am an abandoned pile of bone and muscle
i swear to whoever
that i glow louder than most
but my instincts drive my choices
and i never make my move

or too soon, i'm always mistaken
but given the choice, i'm not sure i'd do any different
am i as doomed to fate as i'm told
or can i put my fist through the patterns?
and into something bigger, into something brighter?

as i argue with myself
i watch the city shine
and i play the long game
as if i'm sure of the outcome
i'm not, but i sure look good pretending