I devoted thousands of thoughts to you.
Daydreaming Josi
Daydreaming Josi
May 2, 2012

Silently I stand, losing everything I am.
A raging storm, my love, I mourn.
I devoted thousands of thoughts to you.
Thousands of daydreams.
Thousands of hopes for the future.
Thousands of smiles.
Thousands of hours thinking about you.
I loved you, I hated you. I didn't know who I was.  
Now, I get to watch you live a thousand days and a thousand daydreams with someone else.
I missed my chance. I've lost you now. Wish I could get you back somehow.
Now it's over. My heart is broken, because of what I left unspoken. Unspoken.

Jan 15      Jan 15

In a corner of the room he sits motionless, watching the street.

Years ago he sat straight, a lean back like steel rods keeping him steady. He kept his eye on the street. Any minute now, he said. Any minute now.

A thousand years ago he would straighten before sitting down, pulling the knees of his jeans up and coming to rest quietly in the chair next to the window. He would settle into a gaze, lose himself in concentration, and watch the street until his young bones creaked and his eyelids scratched his vision.

He would watch sometime into the night. And when tiredness wove itself into his skin and deep into his heart, he would close his eyes and wait that way, sightless. Just feeling into the dark. Any minute now. Any minute now.

For years he waited like this. Pieces of his life all moved through their paces and had their moments and he still waited. He found a stillness next to the window and sunk in. He closed his eyes. He tasted anticipation; he memorized the razor feeling of it.

Some days were too long. Any minute now was not nearly soon enough. The air around the room grew grey and stale, and breaths exchanged for new ones were torturous, useless.

Days like this he almost gave up. Anticipation would roll around in his mouth with a bitter sameness and he’d spit it out, ruthless, restless. But he stayed by the window. He held onto the armrests until his knuckles shone bone-white in the flat light of the room.

Those days came again, and again, and often. But you were on your way. Even in the empty and bloodless days, you made your way through the streets. Even small steps carried you closer to him. And though he had no way of knowing you were on your way, he waited. Any minute now. Any minute now, for years.

And then, there you were. Pausing in the grey of the morning, shivering a bit in the cold. And he looked up, tired, and saw the light you held. He held the image of your face shining and stored it, breathless with relief, in his memory. He ignored the sound of his bones and rose from his chair. It must have taken so much trust to leave the outline of you in the window. To walk down the stairs. To open the door and pray you were still there.

And I know that although I loved you first, he loved you longer.

Now the two of you sit facing each other and let the light from the window stream in, soft and cold. He says something, and you laugh, and he stores the image away. A thousand moments of the love and asymmetry of life.

Arturo Fuente
Arturo Fuente
Nov 21, 2013

a philosopher walks into a room
there is a panel of "experts" before him and they are here to explain a     second universe

but that's the point !!!!!  kid in a candy store   big eyes   WANTS to NEEDS to say everything
what does a philosopher do?
a poet?
analyze and describe? define?                 'how it is'

language is only a medium for the mind           i see so many fallacies in that statement
.... not the other way around.             where we would normally get into a mindset to discuss something      can language do this?       not language but perhaps mental ability to move fast enough

Ryan Bowdish
Ryan Bowdish
Jul 28, 2013      Jul 29, 2013

The late hours fluorescent light flicker
From the moon to the neon red lights
The scars of our fathers written on our thighs
Scared to be seen in the imminent daylight
Freelance extortionists and racketeering blacklist
Black market, black cats, capitalizing on rats
The rat race is being run by yuppies in ties
With lies and cries of spies in in the skies

Confusing their faces with ones that I like
Indecisive for lack of a vice at the peak
I scrape together letters from the people I fight
Where notes are written about the upcoming week
The world's on fire and I hold it trembling
My fingers are burning and my shoulders broken
I buckle but seconds before I go down
The world breaks open upon the cold ground

Thousands of times;
Jun 14, 2013

I whispered
I love you
Hundreds of times;
I screamed it
To the sky
Thousands of times;
And I told you
One million times;
It will always remain true.
I stand within the tears
That pour from the sky,
And kiss the floor
Of raindrops
Falling from the sky,
Falling from my eyes;
Tell me that the long nights
The long
Were completely worth it all.
Hundreds of meaningful nights.
I've come to realize
That I cannot live without you.
I cannot live without your essence
As you call my name thousands of times.
I've come to love the downpour of your tears
And the wrinkles as you smile.
Tell me that you'll never leave,
Tell me you are here.
Tell me one million times.
I love you
One hundreds different ways
As thousands of symphonies play
Counting across millions of stars.
So please tell me,
That you love me;
Because I love you endlessly.

Jun 13, 2013      Jun 16, 2013

Suddenly years have gone by,
Yet so many thoughts.
So many thoughts
That I could never fathom.
I cannot control myself
I cannot contain my feelings.
Bottled up,
Millions of unsaid words
Thousands of untouchable,
Unreachable feelings.
And hundreds of distant friends.
My thoughts are scattered
Spread across many grey clouds
Soaring thousands of miles above my reach.
When will the rain fall
Making hundreds
Of tiny puddles?
Stepped on puddles,
Unwanted puddles.
The cycle must begin again
And again,
As the grey clouds collapse.
We gain more puddles
More thoughts
More feelings.
And millions of people
Trapped within the cycle of life.
I look for places
And things
And a life
That I've never even seen
Or heard of;
I am always searching.
So many people
Walk away.
Out of my sight,
Out of my life.
You are gone,
You are so distant
Of miles away.
You are within the clouds,
Swimming within my thoughts
Within my each and every emotion
You are far above my reach.
And still,
Many years have gone by.
Years fly by.

How much longer will I go on
Without revealing my love for you?
thousands of tiny pieces
Apr 1, 2011

i am breaking into
thousands of tiny pieces
one by one they
are cast into the wind
and become lost
beyond the horizon
and as they swirl
through the air
each piece calls to you
but you pretend not to hear
and the desperation and pleading
in my voice only paint me the fool

so on i go, broken and wandering
endlessly hunting
for a way to put myself
back together again
for so long, i thought
it would be you
who took my
thousands of tiny pieces
and put them
where they belong
but now i realize
you wouldn't even
know where to begin

ve still love if we cannot pass through thousands of miles to have one single kiss agains
sadistic human
sadistic human
May 8, 2013      May 10, 2013

Is our love still love if we cannot pass through thousands of miles to have one single kiss against our cold, gray, stone lips?
If I could never get to experience the feeling of
watching the burning sunset fall and hide
behind the everlasting horizon with you.
It isn't enough to hear your voice over a microphone
or seeing your face off of late night video
calls on a blinding computer screen in the pitch dark,
only your face illuminating light into the room.
I want to feel your hand hold mine
other than grasping yours from thousands
of miles away from mine.
Distance is a saddening thing,
but the worst is that I must wait years to experience
everything I've longed for from over a ridiculous computer screen.

in the thousands.
Sienna O Chapman
Sienna O Chapman
Feb 20      Feb 21

For you, this reads as those
and the breaks in the night
that illuminate what small worlds
those headlights show us on
highway nights.

For you, this reads as those
and the curvatures of me
that your stone-worn fingers have traced
across legs and hips and knees
in obstructed moonlight on
mountain nights.

For you, this reads as those
and the currents that we've exposed
waist deep among the shadows of Vishnu schist on
river nights.

for you, this reads as
every moment
in the thousands.

A picture has a thousand words
Take a picture of me
Go get a thousand people
And tell me what they see

My life is this picture
They say the negative and positive
And when its whispered in my ear
It will tear a piece off of it

I'm just a sheet of paper
With a lot of permanent ink
You can't change nothing about that
Until you have to blink

Because every time I say something
There's a different way to listen
And every time you see me
Your thousand words are different

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