Tired Of Playing Hide ‘N Seek With God

For me to say that you have cheated on me, would imply that we were involved in some sort of game

However, I don’t think that is the case

This was never a thing of skill or luck

For that matter it was never something to feel cheated on in the first place

You do not belong to me and never have

I never belonged to you and never will

Because we are the same condensed matter that floats through this snow globe looking for a unique snowflake

Just as my car or your clothes or the neighbors cat

Breathe in

Breathe out

Its all the same

And these are not bitter words

They are very much grateful

The only thing that turned our dirt bound bodies into love baring beauties, was the short period of time when our souls slow danced in one others blacktop pupils



It was an agreement to save eachother at-least one song for the end of an awkward prom

Mostly spent sitting and sipping spiked fruit drinks

As for now the punch is flat and the DJ sucks, so we have to find a new rhythm to tap our feet to

So I will continue to dance and float and float and dance

As you will do the same

You are grass and sun and tree and air

I am cement and booze and building and neck ties

I am You are Me

Every vibration, every taste, every touch, every smell, every word meant for our ears, nose, mouth and body still lingers in the air

If you are silent you will hear them

If you are still you will feel them

If you are painting you will taste and smell them

See It never starts or stops

It just is…

Joshua Tool – 09/17/2008


I Hate Winnipeg

Some would take the impression that I was a victim of epilepsy

With the untimely way I would seizure over you as our fireworks created a kaleidoscope burst of extreme off-sets and strobe light scenarios

Up and down, back and forth, pressing my lips to your lips and my nose to your cheek

Hoping that if only I could press hard enough, we would fuse into one blood pumping vessel

One air sharing being

I told you that I would love you forever or at-least until we were dirt

Even though our recent departure may seem mournful

The only appropriate watershed be from the clouds

We would take the form of flowers

We will sprout and stretch and bloom and our sweet spring aroma will never be matched

We will be a regular ol ‘bunch of rein-carnations

We’ll bask all day in the crisp clean air

And we will wait…

and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait

and pollenate

Joshua Tool – 09/04/2008

I am just vacation for girls with A.D.D.

August 23rd, 2008

I can still remember the first night we met.

It was pure accident. Or fate. If you believe in that whole thing. I had inquired of Heidi if she would like to hangout that evening. She said “Sure but I am with a friend. Is it okay if she comes over too?”

“Yeah thats fine. I don’t mind”

I had no idea or intention of having you come too so that I had someone to hit on while I was drunk.

You two arrived and almost cautiously knocked on the door, as if you were afraid you might be knocking on the wrong one. I think it was Ely that answered the door, but thats irrelevant. Heidi entered and you followed shyly behind . You walked through my apartment door in that knitted black beanie and your eyes were just slapping me sober.

“Hi, I’m Josh”

“I’m Courtney”

“Wait, I think I have met you before”

“Yeah, I think it was at your old house downtown”

“Oh right, right. Well it’s nice to meet you again”, I replied shaking your hand and smiling as if I already knew things would be perfect after that.

We hit it off so well. We talked for hours that night, though i don’t remember exactly what about [due to my indefinite state of intoxication]. I really wish I could remember our conversation that night. Now it’s just flashes of imagery. Moving from kitchen rants to couch cushions, and eventually we wound up in my bedroom and I couldn’t help but stare at you through the blue glow from the computer screen, as you lip-synced to manchester orchestra with your legs crossed in my swivel chair, you had such a refreshing passion and life in you. It was the first time I have ever seen that certain spark in another person.

The next morning I woke to an empty bed and an achey head.

Was it a dream?

I had to find you again.

But even before I attempted to call anyone that might know you, you had already left me a note with a message reading, “It was very fantastic hanging out last night, call me sometime soon if you would like to again!(***) ***-****. oh and make sure you listen to the manchester orchestra that i downloaded because it is great.”

It’s funny because now I can’t seem to take manchester out of my CD player.

I wanted to play it cool but I couldn’t hesitate. So I gave it a couple of anxious hours before I contacted you.

I don’t know if that is a long enough time to wait to be considered “Playin it cool”, but I don’t care.

We met in the parking lot of my work just after close. I didn’t know your car yet, so I scanned the parking lot trying to act casual. You got out of your car and I couldn’t feel my legs. Only the nerves in my stomach. I didn’t know if I should give you a hug or not, so I didn’t. I just walked towards you and tried to think of something to say. But everything that came out was a stutter. I never stutter. You just laughed and imitated how much I butchered the words, but you made me feel better after the flirtatious teasing by letting me know about your cerebral palsy. And I told you about my imbalanced equilibrium. Which later became an inside joke every time one of us did something stupid.

“oh, it must be my equiwibweeum or your sewabal pawsy acting up”

You asked me to run around the parking lot as you hopped on one foot to show me the difference between your left and your right leg strength.

You started to come over every night after that. We would partake in a routine of excessive drinking and music. The conversations wouldn’t end until the rest of the world went to work. Oh, how I loved our conversations. I swear you are the first lover I could every be so intimate with.

I don’t think Daniel’s hair will ever look as cool compared to the night we cut it ourselves in my bathroom and gave him an accidental euro-mull-comb-over cut.

We even took some nice polaroids.

I loved it when you would refer to things as “Nice things” or “Nice Times”

Polaroid pictures also became a familiar thing. I think we all enjoyed taking pictures in that indian headdress that you bought in manitou. We even smeared lipstick on our faces to look more authentic.

I think one of the first times I realized I was in love with you was about two weeks in. Everyone went to Schylar’s parents house and had a dance party with whiskey sours and 3oh!3. I loved the fact that you barely knew anyone [not even me], but you still weren’t afraid to dance. That night we spent hours in your car listening to music that you thought i’d appreciate [and I did]. We talked about our beliefs and how neither one of us believed in the traditional sense of marriage, we talked about our likes and dislikes. One of your dislikes being that you hate it when you try to show someone a song and they talk through it. I didn’t make a sound through Flobots, or any other song you put on. We just shut our mouths and opened our ears, attempting to peer through the fogged windshield with our cigarettes increasing our buzz. What a connection we had, and the music that night just seemed to fuel the passion. I didn’t even mind sleeping on that tiny one-seater futon, as long as it was with you. That night i felt so alive and i wanted everyone to know.

I love that you like your music for what it is to you and for no-one else. I have listened to that mix you made at-least 35 times, and that’s not an exaggeration. I also sometimes get mad when someone rides in my car and talks when I am listening to it. I can still see you doing that little head-bob jig you do so well. Shimmying your neck and shoulders up and down to favorite songs, wearing glasses three sizes too big for anyones face.

We would meet every night at the gas station Daniel worked at. So that I could leave my car for Daniel to drive home and you would so generously drive us both back to my house. Most of the time I would need to buy food since I never planned ahead. So we would drive to king soopers and hold hands down the isles searching for something vegetarian that actually tasted good. Most of the time it just ended up being pizza. When we would leave, you’d remarked about how empty the streets were.

“What if we are in zombie world and we are the last survivors” you would propose

“That would be pretty intense”

“Yeah, but we have to still obey the law, otherwise the zombies will find us easier”

“Like driving the speed limit and paying for the food in king soopers, even if nobody’s watching” I said, instigating the idea further

Thus the theme song was born.

“O-bey the laws-of zomb-bie world!”

It was a blast to pretend with you.

Just like the time I came out of the liquor store and while you had time to think in the car, you had been watching a man talking on his cellphone through a blue-tooth.

“What if doctors prescribed to schizophrenic people blue-tooths? Like, so that it looks like they are talking on the phone with someone instead of talking to themselves. I mean, what if that guy is schizophrenic and we would have no idea.”

“Haha that would be a great solution to schizophrenic people in public places.”

You always did have some pretty “out-there” ideas, but so do I, and that is what I loved about you.

You were so inspiring to me. I even picked up piano. I remember when I was writing a song about you in my car because i couldn’t concentrate in the house. You came over and sat in my car with me. I even sang it for you.

“You’re corky and I’m dorky, We’re spoonin oh yeah forking!”

I don’t normally sing for people unless they are in the band. But for you it just came out.

I’m glad we could be so open and silly with each other.

Like the time you told me that my cologne smelled like your lesbian aunt. I don’t know if that is a good or a bad thing, well I guess I just don’t know if she has good taste or not. I would always find something lovely in your scent. You smelled like pure nostalgia. Like every beautiful thing that I have ever held dear.

I hope you truly knew what I meant in my poem for you when I wrote, “you taste like a prayer to a god i thought gone, but he must of been hiding in your lips all along”.

I miss those lips, and brushing your hair behind your ear as I kissed every inch of your face.

It’s kinda funny, when I told you I loved you, it came out easier than I thought [it might of been easier because I still drank like a sailor] but regardless, my convictions were genuine.

There were no second thoughts or over analyzations. I just simply let you in.

“I love you too”

And I exhaled in a sigh of joy and relief. I became even warmer than the liquor had already made me. I couldn’t be happier, as we buried ourselves underneath my over-sized satin comforter. The next morning I just wanted to stay in bed with you all day [I guess you felt the same because you wrote it in the first page of the bright red journal you got for me].

I loved waking up and turning over to see your bashful sleeping face. For some reason, through the course of a night, your eyeliner smeared enough to make you appear Egyptian. Truly beautiful. Inspiring me [even more than i already wanted to] to kiss you good morning and run my hands across your exposed silky legs. I never told you that. I guess I just wanted that to be for me and if you knew, there would be a chance that you might inadvertently make it stop. You would slowly come to, and let out a giggle and sometimes a small wheeze from the cigarettes we smoked the night before. I would kiss you as many times as I could squeeze in before I would already be running late for work.

You would always tempt me in the cutest voice, “don’t go to work”

“Aww, I wish I didn’t have to”

Still kissing you between sentences.

“don’t go to work”

“I’m sorry, I must. Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

“I love you”

“I love you too.” you softly confirmed as you drifted back to sleep.

I could face anything after that.

I miss waking up to you. How we would always make time to discuss our dreams or at-least what we remembered of them.

“I just had the strangest dream!” I blurted out as you quietly laid ready to hear about it.

“So, we were in Wal-greens and the clerk was following us around, but not because he thought we were gonna steal. More like he worked on commission and we were the first customers in days. Then when we went to pay. He busted out in song!”

“Can I interest you in a pack of cigarettes? Can I interest you in some gum-gum-gum-gum? Can I interest you in some BIRTH CONTROL BIRTH CONTROL?!?!”

I woke up right after that part

“Haha what a strange dream” you replied.

For some reason I always remembered my dreams when I was with you. Now when I go to sleep to stop thinking about you, you just show up in my dreams. You have been in them every night since we met.

When we couldn’t sleep, we would go on late-night Wal-mart adventures. I think the best one was when we humored ourselves by making our first “married purchase”. The first season of “Early Edition”.

“If I had tomorrow’s newspaper today”, I would’ve saved this in the nick of time.

We watched that season for an entire afternoon once and occasionally at night. The rest of the nights, we’d lay naked pressing our bodies together to the point that nothing, not even air, could exist between us. We would grasp each others hands, holding them to our hearts, and all was one. We’d share our daily experiences with one another and you would read “The Perks Of Being A Wallflower” to me right before we went to bed. I would fall in and out of consciousness trying to fight sleep and follow the story.

I finished the book alone…

…My room is dirty now

Its has been since you left

And this is the third time I have used that floor lamp that we picked out [also from a Wal-mart adventure].

“I think you should get the orange one”

“Thats what I was gonna say!”

We always did agree on taste….

…Now I smoke too much and haven’t eaten in what seems like weeks. It must just be the snake in my stomach.

Now all I can think of is your lips on his, and your skin pressed to his.

Your “I love you”, matching his softly into one another’s ears.

The holidays will be especially lonely without you.

Joshua Tool – 08/28/2008

You Cut Your String But Not Your Ties

Into rusted old bean cans we would talk of our dreams through a piece of red string from our upstairs windows above the side yard

Then four years later we were caught in your mother’s laundry room so called, “fornicating” on top of the off-white soap stained washer between the dryer and the steem cleaner

I wasn’t allowed to see you after that

Another year had passed until I wrote you a letter but it was more like a song when I recited it to you through that same upper floor window

By this time you had a boyfriend and I had a complex

I couldn’t help but to watch you water the lawn and walk the dogs every dew ridden morning before he picked you up for school in his high school 80’s starter car

The paint job reminded me of our rusted tin cans

I remember the day he left you for cold in front of your snow buried steps

You cried in my room the entire night

It was the coldest night of the winter and your pants were soaked to the knee

So you found yourself into a pair of my favorite navy blue sleep sweats

I held you until you fell asleep on my freshly made bed

You consumed yourself under my plaid down comforter

I watched as you softly sniffled yourself to sleep

And before I turned down the night and held you through the winter

I stared at my tin can in the corner of my room and entertained the idea that you would probably never make me your lover again

And red as that tattered string, I kissed your lips for the last time as a lover

The snow spoke of pianos that night

And the wind chimed us into slumber

A place I wanted to stay

A place that I could still dream through a string

Joshua Tool – 01/25/2008

I Fucked A Flower. I Grew A Garden.

Last week you gave me your pillow as we slept blanket-less on the hard wood floor

Fevered glands finding themselves in wet regret

Friendly hands no longer find

Trying daily to drink myself to sleep away my pining

Yet even when I spin to sleep

Its never quite the same

So I sit here and vomit for the trend

Cause I don’t think I’d ever seen you bleed so much

Oh how the colors raced down your face

Like fireflies in the night time skyline

Your eyes lit up

And the room dimmed down

Now we lay amongst the wilted wallpaper

And attempt to reinvent this room

Oh, and will you flush that condom for me?

Joshua Tool – 04/13/2007

Her Name Was Scarlet… 
Yeah, She Liked To Sleep

Our windowsills swell and creek’n speak in rainy tongues

As its gray noise wisps outside the window’s TV-like pane

Channels constantly changing

I want nothing more but to hold you in my autumn arms 

and watch the world fall gracefully into the gutters

Only to form a bed of leaves for our winter napping

Time itself will never be the same

Now that we’ve swallowed the seasons 

our bodies become cameras

With film fixed and focused eyes

A storm was stored in our pupils perspective polaroid


Novembers turning imitates our song of sweet nothings

Joshua Tool- 12/18/2006

My Claustrophobic Heart

Last night I watched the leaves divorce the trees from a neighboring bench in a November park

It just so happened that my lungs had a date with its crisp autumn breeze

I thought it was time that I finally got a breath

And I lifted my head only to view those very trees shake hands with the retiring sun

Implying a candelabra

Their fiery limbs shunning the mirror-like buildings

In that same moment I flicked my cigarette into the new nights dew

I felt like smoking up the scenery

For I no longer yearn for your breath

I am content with my bench

I no longer search for someone to fill the seat next to me

Your existence has widowed my will

So here I shall sit, with November as my witness

I here now renounce my lungs

I here now retire with the sun

Joshua Tool – 11/15/2006

I’ll Stop Being Bitter, When You Stop Whispering Other Guys Names In Bed

I remember when I used to kiss your innocent little patches of freckles

Your soft skin would make promises in the dark

As time went by I would watch you come home every night and re-apply the rockabilly rose lipstick you had smeared on all those denim collars

Just as fast as I could change my clothes

You would change your mind

Now they will name streets after you

For the legend you held in bed

So you achieved some asphalt

So what?

All I can do now is hug those corners and kiss the concrete

Well you better bite the curb and smile big

Until those pretty little lips wear a new shade of red

Joshua Tool – 10/17/2006