Hello Livejournal,

I am back for a second to tell you that I am restless alot lately. Little sleep, awkward dreams when I do sleep... that sort of thing. And if you haven't found my myspace blog.... www.myspace.com/inauburn... I am posting three things for the hell of it.

tin.cans.

i sat there at the table,
for about an hour
or so.
i didn't know
what to do with
my hands.

eventually,
i emptied the can;
folded it,
and crumpled it.
i crumpled it
some more
after that.

the only place
that people look
when you don't know
is toward your
hands.

the only thing
i can do
when i don't know
is fumble about with my
hands.

i should lift you up
with these hands.

-----------

missing.

My father went missing once,
for three long weeks.
A day before he called,
to finally say hello again.
His bags turned up
at the Greyhound station.

Turns out he had
been drinking heavily
and trying to forget
about my mother.
His bags fell off
the truck that he drove.
Another man
stole a few items,
then shipped them home.

At least the men dressed in sin,
can also be polite.

I would have rather my dad
not gone missing at all.
A women can break a man.
Just saying.

----------------



the.boy.he.is.a.husky.dog.

I am living.
And there is a boy that looks like a husky dog a few rows up from me.
The bus-ride from Saskatoon to Regina takes three or so hours.
I will sleep for one and a half of those hours and read 37 pages.
Stienbeck must have been a good man, but he is an ugly motherfucker.
He looks like he must have been a prick to be honest, and probably not a good fuck.
And I am sitting close to a boy that looks like a husky dog.
My guess is he'll be a mechanic when he gets older, or a welder.
Husky dogs work hard, they pull sleds.
I'm sure you already knew that.
I am living.

And I think I looked out that window more than I slept.
And I think I thought about a lot more than you thought.

hey lovers,

i am still kicking.

go to: www.hellophotographs.com

and you will find me in pictures not words.

i am pretty sure that i am done with livejournal.
www.myspace.com/inauburn if you want to keep in touch.

i never wanted to be a cowboy nor an indian. not a cop, not a robber.
you turned me into a liar and a theif, a gunman and a poet.

if i were to stand in the pissing rain til the sun came up would you see me?

i get tired.

tired of
the living
the dying
the panhandlers
the whores
the talkers
the louder talkers
the happy
the miserable
the drivers
the walkers
the backstabbing
the saints
the thinkers

i get tired of every little fucking thing sometimes.

but i never get tired of the way you all set yourself down like a cheap bottle of wine.
and when you dress up to go out and look like you think no one is looking.
that red lipstick would look better in a garbage bin on the side of the road.

just saying.

just watch the ghosts from out the window and whisper goodnight in audible.
stay under your bed to sleep at night because that's the one place they won't hide.

in winter we walk backwards and run our hands under hot water.
we keep friends close just to keep warm, not because we want to.
come december, we cut out our tongues and wait for the new year.

( LETHBRIDGE ETC! )</LJ-CUT

( WARPED TOUR! )