I don’t wanna go home
But I can’t stay here.

I know it’s after hours
But I’ve stared in the mirror
For hours
And I can’t do it anymore.

I don’t wanna go home
But I can’t stay here.

The problems fade away
When you face away from them
For a little while.

I don’t wanna go home
But I can’t stay here.

When there is nowhere to go,
Nowhere to hide,
You will find
That your problems find you.

The thorns in my side
I try so hard to hide
with humor, cleverness, even kindness
but after so long they are well-planted
like seeds they’ve taken root.

I am a man full of grace and gratitude
even changes in attitude
I float on great waves
in my wooden dinghy
precarious atop mighty waters
and angels visit
take me into smooth azure lagoons
where I reside in peace
even serenity from time to time.

I weep in great sadness
occasional fits of despair
drowning there
I swim up to gulp for air
leap and glide into the light
breathe mercy in my flight
pray for courage and gumption
but discover
I cannot stay afloat alone
so with abandon I dive
into bright souls whose hands and hearts
reach down to rescue me.
Some of them are thorn people too
battered, broken, and rugged
who’ve found the courage to change
the things they could.

I guess these thorns are there
to ******* up for air
to give me the zephyr of humility
the certainty of a love
that save me.

Feeling lonely,
You wish for friends in your life,
Forever working,
For what else to do.
But when an opportunity
For fellowship arises,
Feeling lost,
You shy away,
And reject it.
Oh sweet child,
How will you break this pattern
Of monotony,
And disconnection,
And isolation,
If you avoid the one thing you crave?

He floats, adrift over wine-dark depths,
Veins of denial and luciferin,
Dressed in silk ribbons, deceptive in their innocence,
The discarded robe of a fallen monarch.

He glides, elusive, over nothing, solitary in his rule,
Unmoored and untouchable, even to a hand offering solace,
For fear that this same hand may tether him to an unsavory reality.
Lying to himself, the king of falsity and bioluminescence.

words were always being launched
across the rooms of my house.
insults and accusations were flung
from one room to the next.

it wasn’t long before those words
were replaced by objects.

whenever I came home,
ceramic plates and decorative vases
would already be splayed out across
our kitchen floor, wrecked and broken.

I learned quickly
how to tiptoe around the mess.
if I wasn’t careful, the soles
of my feet would drip blood.

I accidentally learned pointe
by avoiding broken glass.

until someone pointed it out,
I never realized I was dancing.

my movements were somehow
considered to be a performance,

but all they were ever meant to be
was an avoidance of pain.

Something mooore, for my soul,
Give me the buy, in your fancy store,
Give me the buy, hopefully, I can be mooor can make it feel mooor,
Poor craving soul, wants sraff, staff, staff,
Anything,

I want to buy in your store, something mooor,
Give me mooor, mooor, mooor, mooor,
buy and buy, mooor,  hopefully I can be mooor,
I can make it feel mooor,
So much hope For my soul,

Something to love, so, the next morning I can throw it away,
Looking to buy Moooooor, Happiness,
For my craving soul,

Somebody help me!

Get out my soul!
Out from your store!
Please?!
Close the store door!
I’ll pay you,

we sail ahead
with sweet words on our lips,
and roses blooming in our heart.
our love comes and goes with the waves—
never fully escaping our awaiting mouths, nor
slipping through our brushing fingertips.
we're full of fear of repercussions, yet
a passion threatening to crack our
oh so precious facade.
yet that night as you cross the undefinable line
reached for my hands
pressed your lips to mine.
and just like that,

call me yours.