You...
Feel the ***** of your feet
Each step painting a tapestry
Each breath left unnoticed
Each move unrelenting...

Neither of us
Wished I were here

What should've been a revival
became default to a recital
And every pirouette
A moment none of us
Should have missed
... and I'm no better

I'd've penned you letters
Each with the broken, desperate intent
And secret hope, you'd just throw it away

But I can feel in each poissson
As i fish for every moment you've lost
And the tilte barre
Cant fulfill your absent tomorrows
I could have staged for you
an "I'm sorry"

Now every time I hear your laugh
In playback or live from a hundred miles
Your giggles reignite in me
A flame through a negative
The moments as they might be
But here we are
And where we both were left to be

I had a normal day once...
I suppose that depends on how you define "normal".
And I think it was a Tuesday,
But that depends on what a Tuesday is, or means, or if our Tuedays have ever meant the same things.
It was late spring. April, maybe May.
But it was a steamy Tuesday, the first angry sun after a rain.
And the only thought that occupied my mind that day,
Suspiciously
Surreptitiously
In that moment and in my memory...
Was how the uneven earth felt beneath my feet
As I, solo, explored the woods beyond the shopping plaza across the street
And it might have been or may still be the last normal day for me
On some random Tuesday, two decades ago
In April or maybe May.

My intellect has served me only a level of awareness of the fragility
Of our world... bonded pieces tethered together
By the bubblegum and handshakes, and gentleman's agreements of
Violent, un-gentle men
Lost in time to a group-think long rumored to be extinct
Rumors whose purpose serve only to palliate the weariness of consumers
To keep the market machine spinning
But whose ideals every decade or so resurfaces to strike bold into each generation that our history is not as clean as
The books, and songs of the "good ol days" mislead us to believe
And to raise the rancor of the awakened shouting into choruses of their own voices carrying the same message of resist
And whose fervor is cartooned as extremist
It is said the entitlement of the peaceful to sleep sound at night
Is owed to the will of brave men who stand ready to deliver violence
On their behalf
But whose iron sights and guided bombs increasingly shift focus to the not-entirely-innocent
Whose guilt by association signed in iron pen their death warrants by foreign manipulators claiming liberation
They know what's best, after all
My intellect has served only to deliver this life of anxiety, in the pursuit of happiness.

Die Welt
Die Welt fällt um uns herum
Und Splitter
Splitter reißt durch die Luft
Und wir stehen
Denn es gibt kein Versteck
Aber die Liebe
Die Liebe wird uns dort beschützen

Und wir küssen uns
Als ob nichts passiert wäre
Und die Bomben
Fallen Sie weit zur Seite
Und die Kugeln
*******nicht so erschreckend
Und nichts so Auffälliges
Wie die Verlangsamung der Zeit

Und die Nacht
Die Nacht bricht um uns herum ein
Wegbrechen
Bis zum Morgengrauen kommt Licht
Wie der Rauch
Der Rauch setzt sich um uns herum ab
Wir stehen immer noch
Zur Niederlage beider Seiten

Dann sind wir helden
Nur diesen Tag

Und wir sind dann Helden
Nur für diesen Tag

For time to be so temporal
For life to be so livable
This is too much
Enough of this captiulation
And scrificial commesuration
Grief and pity not longer
Share separate identity
Words we have spoken
Betray the prophesies written
And the ghosts and shadows of the past
Dictate that which will pass
Angst not on display
Is quietly suffered
While those whose voices do expel
The wanton verbosity signifying nothing
Do similarly nothing to quell
A riotius symptom of revolution
Erased by untenable conclusions
Simply delay and unite
If they are not loath to invite
The most unquietous suspect
Public dissolusion.

Its nigh on nine
In the evening.
And I for the first time in too long
Feel each heart beat leave
This frail form
Never to be heard again.
And they are all different
And some have gone unnoticed
Sadly the preservation of life
Sometimes bears no witness.
The meticulous muscle un-felt
As it pounds against all
The could've been-s and maybes.
Each gasping for the air
My lungs are the warden to disperse.
Held in a prison of bone and flesh
Unseated and riled at the mildest stimuli
Beating their own rhythm
A pendulum marking its own time.
The clock is broken and never to repeat
And each beat is a second closer to its last
It is in the dim candlelight and shadow
That it screams the loudest.
Why is a heartbeat so unforgiving
And yet so unrelenting
That at moments of peace we're hardly aware its there?
And why when shadows cross a wall
In a cast of two dimensional players
Does it cheer so?
Sometimes it is as if
It will break free from my breast
And beat no longer
I can only hope
That when it leaves
Its in a rage of songs and fury
And its departure does not go unnoticed.