I dreamt we were in bed
Your arm draped lazily over me
tangerine glow dripping
down your velvet face. You marveled
at the earth-shattering gravity
of our coming moments, subtle smile brightening
your sleepy eyes, "how did we get here?"

          how did i get here?

In dreams, you're all of it,
all of yourself, the best parts
of me, everything
that made me clutter past
lovers into this small space
in my heart.
In dreams, you're everything
I've ever loved about everyone
I've missed— the Frankenstein
father my daughter will never have—
          But you're not real,
You only exist in the perfect space my brain's created
out of the fragments you left.

Maybe in a way, I loved you— absent from eternity;
out of gratitude for opening
my heart to the idea of love
with anyone who saw me
enough to feel it— Gratitude

for allowing me to love
myself candidly
in my revival.

I hold space for that

I still live in your shadow in some ways,
creeping through
the memories this town has
of you,
leaving my own behind
in my imminent departure.

I'll never be absent of you
I'll never be absent of you

Love is more than words,
there may be tears
Love isn’t done in one night,
you work on it for years
It’s the little things you do,
to let them know you care
The hugs and the kisses,
locking eyes with loving stares
It may bring hard times,
when you only have each other
There will be the joy,
of knowing there is no other
Love is a flame,
you can’t let it go cold
You keep the spark alive,
so it never gets old
Love is those memories,
the kisses and the nights
It is two lives brought together,
bells, whistles, and flashing lights
Love is everything,
the journey may bring
The everlasting promise,
beyond the diamond ring
Make love in your heart,
for the one you love every day
Take the time, live your dreams,
so that love will always stay

9/20/25

My paper is running short
I’ve got time for a short one:

Once upon a time way back when I was ten
I had a dream, what a wonderful life
But I couldn’t wait, I got older quick
Learned to drive and how to kiss girls
Then one came along and stole my heart
put me in love for the rest of my life
We did it all, the house, the kids, the dogs
took it all in, that’s what we did
the good, the bad, love, pain and family
Now here we are, all to ourselves
right where our parents left off
looking back then and seeing it all
took our chances, we did some things
our time is now; we try to keep going
**** I wish I was ten


9/19/25

a silent laugh—
an inside joke no one else can catch,
trying to take flight over the height of a dream.
but what is a dream if it only stings the eyes?
an eye sore, instead of wings to soar.

...I am a prisoner of flesh and skeleton,
fueled by passion, smuggling scars beneath
my skin; blood turned ammunition,
bones as empty shells clattering the floor.

...I am animal, and I am engine—
factory default, released into a world
obsessed with modifications.
we bolt wings like spoilers onto cars,
spoiled for choice, but never to lift—
only to weigh us down.
heavy disguises, dressed up as flight.

and still, we dream of air.
still, we hunger to rise.
such a cruel irony:
built for motion, yet forever
grounded.

Everyone has a dream
brewing inside their head,
wishing to quash
the day-to-day
that we all have to dread:
it’s hard not to feel stuck
inside of a revolving door,
hard to escape
consumerism
that wants to make us
think we are poor

At the end of each sunset
comes another rising moon
to some it’s just
a time for sleep,
others it is an unbearable
silence, a deafening clarity
that we are truly all alone
because nobody will ever
see the way our insides tick
and form into afterthoughts,
never to begin

Still, the clock is spinning,
our minds keep spilling
thoughts we appreciate,
others we regret-
the endless war of
waging through mental states
to endure physical reality again
as we get up in the morning
with another attempt
at facing the blinding light,
the arduous day-to-day,
leaving our dream behind
that only wants to
breakthrough, and come alive
within this means to an end

I whisper my struggle against rage, a vulture perched, refusing to
budge, circling the leftovers of life. My tears — a mirror, awkward
disguises, suggesting more than I admit. What is a man in his own
fantasies, if even there he dreams himself as someone less?

Knowing a circle of friends blooms misshapen, my circle is more
like a triangle —each angle pointing out each other, each edge
sharp to sharper your edge. I am obtuse among the acute, aware
of my struggles with precision; people measure me from distance.

Still, their echoes and hues pull words out of me, inspiration sparked
by friction. But I’m just this jar chasing lightning, as if it ever strikes
twice; each dream I hold flickers fragile in my hands; the texture of
a dream is lucid, slipping through like current.

The recipe of life: tears, sweat, regrets, a hint of success for taste.
And the chef? Shadows us like a grand tree on the hillside, quietly
stirring the ***, watching, seasoning my days with the abrupt nature
of time.

The Captain
taught a man to live
and live he did
for a night
till bitter snow
fell on his tongue
as he swallowed feelings on his tongue
his lips had kissed the summer's dream
a budding dream
chained down by blood
yet for a single shining breath
the world was his oyster
and the oyster was in his hands
and now remains so
forever