Wake You

I can’t replace you, no matter how I try.
Staring at the ceiling, tracing every line.
I can’t escape you, no matter what I try.
I’ve been here a thousand times.

I can’t wake you, with my last breath of air.
Staring out the window, no one’s even there.
I can’t escape you, no matter what I try.
I’ve seen it a thousand times.

And I just wanted to see that everything’s okay,

but I don’t believe a word you say…


Anyone who knows me knows I love lyricist Brian Vander Ark. Look him up, or look up his song lyrics, they’re poetry, no doubt. His lyrics are brushes on a painting I may never quite achieve, but here’s what I can share, and what I’ve learned. Thanks for indulging my best effort- Tim

Some days are worse than others, some better,
this, the former, a past lover, the last hair washed from pillows,
the one next to yours, I’ll keep it like souvenirs.
Listening to Verve Pipe and Brian claims the hail, unlike the rain, “another year could not disdain”.
This year as ominous as a lateral move, past remnants, clogged drains.
I have nothing left to prove, make me whole once again.

This will all make sense one day. This may not make sense either way.
The goldfish pays no mind. He’s good in the bowl, with the masses outside crying to be heard.

Preferred in my freshman years, I held two girls at a time, never knowing any long-term plan.
I declared to you in my fit of rage, you were lost, only I could be saved.
I was a villain underneath, so sweet, until a spoonful of sugar made me obese. Superficial thoughts and metaphors,
the inflation of a 19-year old’s fragile ego.

So much for this, happiness is, wherever you find it.

The veneer in your hardened shell, I could feel,
until you set me as a picture in a photograph.

Your word as good as mine, to conceal, only I’ll have the last laugh.


I can be a transient lover to you.
Stability, security, override what you feel.
Eventually my act gets tired.
Songs embellished in your name,
I don’t know what’s real.
Forgiveness is.
I owe myself a few more mulligans.
Nothing rhymes with mulligan.
Except restarting.
Not really.

I don’t blame you for wanting out.
Happiness is a dollar sign, no time
for silly thoughts, these words of mine.
McCartney was right all along.
No amount of prose can replace structure,
fidelity, coarse in the hourglass.
Rubbing you, those last sloppy moments in bed.
Sand stuck in your bathing suit.
“Fuck me” still hanging in the air over my head.
It felt so dirty to be with you.
Transient love spent.
My well-meaning “goodbye” sent.


I’m stuck inside a stalemate I don’t know when it began,
I sure as hell couldn’t stop it then and I sure as hell can’t now
The only thing I know to do that works,
is sit and feel this hurt.

I’ve woken up so many time to wonder where I’m at,
I sure feel like I knew it, before I took this 4 day nap,
But I’ve grown to love this place, sitting with my pain.

I’ve become a stranger, to myself but no one else,
they all think I’ve got it down no need to call my bluff
How odd a place, which recognized my game, with nothing left to say.

If this was a daydream, I’d make sure I was a star,
A selfish vagabond who’s consumed with nothing more.
Than keeping all who love him safely at arm’s length.

So ruffle my pillow & make sure I’m awake,
There’s endless, new horizons
Yesterday can’t take.
All this reality is here and now
in every waking hour.

Circling the Stars

Calling out and you’re not there.
We had all we wanted but I couldn’t see.
I live in half-truths, spent time from wasted youth,
or one last time to be next to you.
To feel your calm. To feel your unrest.

Can you see it for what it is?
Circling, circling…only to find dead ends.
With your tongue in cheek, you can’t speak, but you know it’s already been said.

No one sees you for who you are. Circling the stars…


Knocking on the door, and I know I’ve felt like this before. This road led to an impasse, all I had, but that’s all gone. What has gotten into you? Maybe I never knew, maybe we never do.

I can’t hurt you from here—I can only hurt myself.

This coffee is stale, or maybe it’s my mood, does it really matter to you? Mine is the oil contrasting the ocean—black out the rest of the world. What has gotten into you? Maybe I never knew, maybe we never do.

Bleeding hearts of every color. Until the pain makes room for more.

I’m afraid. Afraid to go anywhere, to do anything. Outside I hear people move, from place to place, town to town. So you think I’m cool as shit, when I’m losing it, and I’m done with this. No more appeal, throwing shade on all that’s real. I will make this place my home.

Uncomfortably until I’m numb. Comfortable, and then I’m done.


I see your heart pulling away, or is it mine, it’s all the same.
The paint on a log, the multicolored rain. Or is this colorblind for me to find my way?
What was good for you, not ok for me too. Let this moment open a gateway to this half of a heart for me to break.
We are all habits to reclaim.

This hopeful scene plastered in a daydream, the truth, sordid and grey.
Sentiments of fallen ideals, less than real, manufactured in some false display- for you to reclaim.

All those concede, parts of you I didn’t want to see, not in line with my own faults
And the words we had shared, not past lives to bare- believe these moments as truth.

This mind is relentless, searching for heartache and sorrow well spent.
real people matter, feelings we all break.
Because birth to death is not easily explained
No more worry to project.