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1

This Poem Has the Same Name as This Poetry Collection

Try not to ruin everything

just yet.

Try not to mess up,

screw up or

fuck up.

Just try the best you can,

as long as you don’t fail.

As long as everything falls neatly into place.

Don’t worry about the consequences,

unless you don’t succeed.

Try not to think about that though,

we’ll worry about that when we get there.

For now, just try not to ruin

everything.

2

Too Much Coffee Too Late

Caught between the morning

and waking hours.

Too early for chirping birds,

too late to grab a drink.

my thoughts are crisp,

body a lame vessel,

laying still.

Dreams and revisions

race by,

bumping against sluggish memories

as they move about.

It feels like

a lot of useless moments

packed into a false eternity.

Maybe midnight would

be a good cutoff.

3

July Sweater

We met at the abandoned apple orchard

by the factory around 10.

Besides the occasional passing car

and streetlights,

it was perfect.

The stars shown clear and

it was eerily quiet.

We shared some vodka

and passed a small,

bent-up joint.

You told me everything

and I left alone.

I wandered a bit instead of

heading straight home.

A little bit wobbly,

letting the warm July air

wrap me up a bit longer.

4

I’m Going to Start Monday!

Flick on the burner,

hoping it catches quick.

My stomach lurches

at the gas smell.

It’s 2:00 am,

but sometimes hunger is more

important than sleep.

Cheap tomato noodle

nirvana,

warmth creeps through

my tired frame.

Who would want to be

healthier when you

can have this?

5

Borders

Just across the road

where police cars are always

driving by.

Where the streets get

repaved when cracks and

pot holes form.

Just across the road

where the street lights

flash bright at dusk.

Just across the way

where one segment of humanity

builds high and wide

and another is left to erode slow

just across the road.

6

Long Gone Sweetheart

Haunted nothings

sing out through

rotted wood and tall grass.

Lazy insects tumble by

not giving you a second thought.

Cracked concrete overrun by weeds

and forgotten.

The old folks down the road

remember fresh coats of paint

and distant hammering.

Faded photos stuffed in

dusty albums.

Names and faces that

are increasingly hard to place.

Names and faces that are

replaced with an odd

sort of ache.

7

Circles

The morning

rushes through the front windows

a bit too quickly.

I make the shower last

as long as possible,

piecing things together.

I brush my wine stained teeth clean,

ignoring the weird ache.

Cold coffee down,

brown paper bag lunch.

I should’ve never texted you last night,

I should’ve never taken this shift.

8

Hiss

I heard a hiss

when I was alone.

A hiss at the state I was in,

a hiss loud and singular.

Sounding out and

fading just as quickly.

A hiss as if to say,

“Not good enough yet,”

shaking loose any remaining sleep.

The hiss made its way

through my conscious.

I tried to forget it,

but it hung around all day.

The hiss put doubt in every task,

mundane to extraordinary.

It was a terrible day.

Not because of the small noise,

but because I let it bother me

that much.

9

Couldn’t Sleep

I listen to the wind glide

between the branches.

I can’t sleep.

I fish out a cigarette and

walk out to the porch.

A neighbor on the balcony above

looks down without saying a word.

I straighten things on the porch,

eventually settling on sweeping,

just to look busy.

Just so he’ll ignore me.

I concentrate on sweeping.

My mind wanders to that night

at the bar where

Crazy Sammy knocked my teeth in.

I haven’t been back in weeks.

They won’t miss me,

but I’m still not used to staying in

on a Saturday night.

I touch my face where that

gash turned to a scar.

I keep sweeping until

I start to forget about

that night altogether.

10

Passing You By

He dreams of open caskets

instead of better days,

popping pimples and

coughing up smoke.

Ignores chirping birds

and blooming flowers,

guzzling down liquor from

a water bottle.

The night rips by

and the morning leaps out

on the couch.

He lets the days roll past

and she still hangs around.

11

“Selling Out”

Sand down some of the awkward edges.

They weren’t too appealing anyway.

That only becomes more apparent with age,

hobbling through business hours

a bit more assured and content.

Punk rock rarely pays the bills,

but that doesn’t mean

you need to give it up

altogether.

Just focus things down

and make a difference where

you’re able.

12

Time Traveling for 20 minutes

I jumped into a pile of leaves,

laying there for a good 20 minutes

or so.

I pretended I didn’t

have to worry about anything.

The leaves were wet

and soaked the fresh clothes

I just put on.

The sky was overcast,

hinting rain.

I jumped into a pile of leaves

and didn’t worry about anything.

13

The Yellow House

I threw a rock at the yellow house down the street.

It hit the window,

bouncing off the pane with

no damage.

I instantly felt terrible,

bolting once the light flicked on

and shadows appeared.

I ran down block

after block

not quite knowing where I was

when my legs and chest finally yelled “STOP.”

Wherever I was it was quiet.

I sat down on the sidewalk.

Anger and fear had since been

replaced by longing.

Longing for a time

when we still lived in that yellow house down the street.

I didn’t want to slink back to

that cramped apartment

just yet.

I wouldn’t be in anymore trouble

than I already was.

I passed a small cemetery,

doubled back and hopped the gate.

I laid on the cool grass between the tomb stones,

letting my thoughts trail off

into the night.

14

Early Start

Cold coffee sits sharp

in my belly,

but works.

Keeping my thoughts crisp

and my fingers moving.

The sun stretches

orange and yellow

over the water.

Maybe this wasn’t

such a terrible idea.

15

Contented

Nestle up to comfort

and let the past

rush by.

Nestle up to ease,

making each motion as fluid

and joyous as the last.

Nestle up even closer,

living in this moment

for the next.

16

Wondering is Good Enough

I walked past mansions

earlier in the day,

steading myself

on icy patches.

I saw elaborate stonework,

beautiful landscaping and

rooms.

So many goddamn rooms.

Rooms, rooms, rooms.

Rooms that probably don’t even hold people.

Just stuff and passing interests,

dust gathering for

the housekeeper to get.

I wonder about things that

I probably won’t ever know

and may never really

want to.

Walking by and wondering

is good enough.

17

Go to Sleep, Lightweight

Go to sleep little dreamweaver,

your time hasn’t come

and may never.

The days stack up heavy.

Cynicism clots together thick,

especially today.

Let sleep cradle the day

to oblivion,

waking tomorrow anew.

Go to sleep little lightweight,

you tried a bit too hard

and it got weird fast.

Go to sleep

and forget it all

ever happened.

18

Oppressor

Cobwebs in the corners,

dust on the shelves.

There are bits of the vase still

under the couch.

Now wrinkled fingers

slip away.

Now wrinkled fingers

tear photos.

She puts a Newport out on

his headstone,

trying to forget he was here

at all.

19

The Odd Hours

The radiator clanks lonesome

during the odd hours.

The ones where you

wake up

in a cold sweat.

Keeping your thoughts churning about,

prolonging a terrible day

that you desperately

want to end.

20

Too Late Now

I didn’t want that shower to end.

I drew out every moment I could,

all the stress and ache mixing

with the warm water to

circle the drain.

I waited as long as I could

before I had to go to work.

Before I had to deal with

writing that headline wrong.

The papers are on the

doorsteps even if

they’ll probably change it online.

Too late now to

do much of anything.

21

Canned

I’m a moving part,

easy to be replaced.

No going away cards or goodbyes.

My desk cleared off

the next day.

Pictures unpinned from the cubicle,

knick-knacks in a grocery bag.

I stare at the picture on the badge,

wondering why he thought

it’d be all right.

22

Sunbeam

I sleep a bit later,

waking with the morning light.

I sleep a bit heavier,

waking more at ease.

It won’t last

but it’s nice to forget that,

briefly shedding that frantic

movement.

Teeth a few shades lighter,

circles under my eyes

a bit shallower.

I lay flat on my back

with my cat,

getting lost in a sunbeam.

23

Somewhere Distant, In Lights

The lights dimmed and

everyone went home.

Her face could go back

to it’s normal state.

It always had to be a smile

where she worked.

The lights dimmed and

she could go home to

something resembling comfort.

That meant a cramped apartment

furnished with a ratty couch

and a table that had seen better days.

Finally bundled in a sea of blankets,

watching a small screen

that reeled off something distant.

Something she hoped to replicate

if she could get

out of this place.

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</3

Sometimes the sun gets in the way and

the flowers all seem like weeds.

Sometimes a routine

feels never-ending.

Sometimes I wish I felt anything at all,

but it’ll fade

even if it seems like it never will.

25

Finally Getting Some Sleep

I heard a train off in the distance

when I was trying to fall asleep.

It’s always a relief compared

to the odd creaks and moans

of this place.

It’s a nice reminder that

I might not be stuck here forever.

26

Among the Branches

I saw someone hit a possum with their truck.

It was a road out in the country.

It was late,

we were the only people on the road;

probably for miles.

Since, I’ve tried to pretend he didn’t see it.

That he was doing something else

and got distracted.

But it was clear he sped up to hit it.

That’s hard to shake.

In that quiet moment,

out of boredom and in search of a cheap thrill,

he cut that creature’s life short.

It’s last breath flowing through

tire tread and out into the cool air.

Up toward nothing,

dissipating among the branches.

I worry about that part of America.

27

Careful/Paranoid

Waiting.

For what, who knows?

This paranoia

fed on a steady diet

of evening news jabber,

festers at night.

Street light flicker,

distant rustling.

One foot in front of the other,

a bit quicker than usual.

28

Menacing Little Creature

She sat by the widow,

watching a spider make a web

full of gnats and flies.

She watched the little creature

that made her legs itch at night

lose its menace.

The little flittering thing

that made her

jump and scream,

was just a tiny little thing.

Moving about as best it could,

among lumbering giants

that constantly ruin its ease.

29

Land-locked

Crumpled up,

wasting away

on the cold tiling.

Spin these dreams

quick and free,

hopefully one day

floating my way.

This feeling

creeps slow,

but persistent.

Hopefully my ship

comes in soon.

Hopefully you’re on it.

30

And the Next Day

Are they done sweeping up all of the confetti yet?

Tomorrow is just the next day until

we hit another highlight on the calendar.

People will remember

that they hate one another again,

digging heels in deep

until the confetti

floats down again.

It’s nice for one day,

but there’s always a bit of longing.

A bit of sadness,

that we can only keep it together

for a day or so.

Better than nothing,

but nothing to settle for either.

31

On/Off

I’m getting tired of being an occasion.

Tired of faltering

in the background

as everyone goes by.

Your smug lovers

are always so

polite as they pass.

I’m getting tired of

doing karaoke alone,

wailing away like some sad bastard

on lonesome nights

where I waited up.

Tired of giving in

whenever you feel

like coming back.

32

Just a Bit Longer

The embers glowed red

with a bit of life.

I hiccupped and felt

the cheap liquor

work its way up.

I didn’t want to

go to sleep in another campground

without you.

I watched my breath

linger in the August chill.

The campground was dead silent

and I felt lonelier

than I had in a while.

33

One More

The next one

will be the last one.

Well the next one,

that one just felt wrong.

Can’t end the night that way.

The lever goes down

and the shapes spin by.

Nothing,

just like the night’s been going.

This was supposed to be

my last night.

Everything was going to

fall into place,

everything would go back

to the way it was.

34

Trail Off

Let all of your best adventures

be the ones of dreams.

Let your responsibilities

outweigh your ambitions.

Trail off

and let them try to find you.

Let the days

warp to routine,

piling up neat

and tidy.

35

Stares

She scratched off the

dried snot on the back of her wrists.

She looked around the grocery store

hoping no one saw her.

It had been a long day

and some self-consciousness

started to fade.

She hated this place.

The guy in front of her in line

mumbled about aliens

and the gay agenda

into a Bluetooth.

He stopped mid-rant,

looking her up and down

like so many guys at the bar.

His lips shaped a crooked little smile

as she pretended to stare

at the gossip magazines and candy bars.

36

Living Space

Find a place

where you can be as weird

as possible.

Somewhere far off,

that doesn’t always show up on maps.

Find a place

where phone calls, texts, e-mails, messages, etc.

can’t find you.

Find a place

all your own.

37

Misplaced Longing

Instead of continually trying

to honor a document

written hundreds of years ago,

try something new.

Be a bit kinder,

keep your promises

this time.

Hold up your end of the bargain

and we’ll hold up ours.

Be as revolutionary as you were at the start,

taking stock of everything

you’ve learned since.

Please,

before it gets any worse.

38

A Bit Too Soon

There are moments where I can feel

how much time has passed.

Where things don’t seem so new,

even though I haven’t been here very long.

I hope that gets easier as time passes,

but I have a feeling it doesn’t.

39

Happy (Belated) Birthday

He finally had to pop the balloons.

It had been a few days

since the party.

The rain fell in thick sheets

wind knocking against the windows.

He threw the bits of rubber away

and made some coffee.

He sat listening to the rain

and the drip of the coffee maker,

wishing the years

would slow up.

40

Not Just in Salem

A witch is whatever you want it to be

when it needs to be.

When circumstances are desperate,

something new takes hold.

Something humans

tell themselves they’ve

moved past.

A witch is convenient.

It is amorphous,

slipping through cracks

and filling boring history textbooks.

They’ll burn you at the stake tonight,

only to feel bad in the morning

among the smoking embers.

We’ll chastise the leaders,

but forget the ones in the crowd.

The ones who slinked off

into the night

never answering for what they did.

They’ll be front and center

when it happens all over again.

41

Deadbeat

The milk’s in chunks,

socks scattered around the apartment.

I fell asleep on the couch again,

waking up with

kinks all over.

The thermostat reads 93

and I have no urge

to apply for a job.

42

Doesn’t Really Matter

Trace my scars

as the lights turn low.

When everyone has paired off,

laughing hushed

in the distance.

Trace my scars

and I’ll trace yours.

We can share a few bowls

and get tangled up

with the night.

We can move on and

away from all of this.

43

Sunday Night

Warm breath on my ear

run shivers up my spine

and tremors through my legs.

Run with me

through the rain,

without worrying about

waking up the next day.

Let the night fall away

until there’s nothing

left but

us.

44

Enthusiasm

Waking up to chirping birds

and the first hints of sun

peaking over the horizon

seems amazing.

The night before at least.

Waking up the next morning

and turning off the alarm

ends up being

much better.

The tent’s warm embrace

and breeze floating by

through the mesh.

Your gentle breathing,

lulling me back to sleep.

The day ambles by without me

and I’m completely content

with it.

45

1:02:22

I’ve been on the phone for an hour.

My ear is beet red,

my face is sore from laughing.

Sometimes distance

isn’t so far.

Sometimes distance

isn’t so bad.

46

Drift Up

Yellow grass creeps tall

along the side of the house.

Spider bites on

my arms and legs,

moonlight washes over.

I doze off on the porch

warm and fuzzy

covered in a ragged old blanket.

The night sky whispers out

gentle about you.

I drift off lonesome,

but content,

knowing you’ll be back pretty soon.

47

Better than Usual

They push him

block after block,

passing by chic storefronts.

It’s Sunday night and

they were all silent.

Just the squeaking

from Dad’s wheelchair.

Block after block,

down streets he once

pushed baby carriages down.

Aunt Mary’s wasn’t too bad.

Not bad at all in fact,

Dad and Uncle Steve actually got along

after a few beers.

They were all kind of content,

knowing it was a good Father’s Day

as they pushed the wheelchair.

48

Welcome

The ice melts away

and we’re all right.

Laying belly first

on hot sand,

listening to the waves break.

The ice melts away

and time

stumbles over itself

rolling forward quick.

Wind rushes by and

I tumble through

these dreams a bit easier.

49

Single Room $55 a Night, Weekly Rates Available

I smile up pretty with

baked bean teeth stretched up

dull.

I made it

even if you didn’t

and that’s all right.

Falling grimy

free

and happy for once.

Fingers gripping the steering wheel

tighter around the curves.

Rain falling heavy in

sheets through overcast gloom.

On my way to

somewhere distant,

warm coffee and covers.

Lamplight yellow glow

and nicotine stained walls.

TV re-runs flash by in a

fuzzy blue haze.

My eyes grow heavy and

the night disappears.

I made it

even if you didn’t

and that’s all right.

50

Some Magic

I tasted artificial cherry

from a candy I can’t remember the name of now,

but used to get when I was younger.

I thought about

summers at the public pool

chlorine lingering

long after you dried off.

Red flesh

scrapping against my cloths

as I peddled back.

The cooled air of the video store

as I read the descriptions

of lame horror movies.

The way the night held

some magic

as fireflies danced by.

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Thank You

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About

Nicholas Arthur is 25 years old and currently lives in one of the many

lake towns in Michigan. He is a Wayne State University graduate. Along

with poetry he dabbles in music, writing and art.

When he is not writing he can be found looking in the bargain bin at the record store, drinking coffee far too late at night, and eating breakfast

any time he pleases. He has a cat named Simba.