He wields his hammer
   without mercy
bring
the
metal
d
o
w
n
time and space
    e  x  p  a  n  d  i  n  g
crushing metal to earth
         to vibration to sound

my head snaps to the left
         vibration through earth
                through atom through drum
a fire ignites...a fire BURNS...a fire smolders
nostrils flare
  apertures contract straining to focus
      heart valves pump unnaturally
         oxygen is scarce
knees weaken
and i  s
             i
               n
                  k
arms of steel
     guide my hips...
(keep breathing)
strands of gold
     brush my neck
(open your eyes)
kisses so light
  turn to a force of nature
(by the forgotten gods,
              you are beautiful)
teeth playfully snap
    eyes shine
(breathe, woman, breathe)

our neurons are mirrored
   our pheromones agree
now comply...surrender...submit

your cape is irrelevant
  the crimson does not impress me
it does not hide your humanity

your armor is useless
  i can pierce it simply
with my blue eyes

what of your hammer, Thor?
it is all of what you are;
heavy with burden
  spinning and light with hope
crushing the earth with music
raised high to lead
          with a steady hand
hailing a booming storm
    light electrifying

be assured - your hammer is your own
i do not desire to take what is yours
    to smother your light
         to limit your branches

i only wish to see you grow in strength
  in beauty
       in music
            in light

and so i will wait...
for the thunder of the hammer
   crushing the ground
calling me home.

You were raised to become a shield
While I was raised to become a sword
A shield and sword have different roles to play
However, they have one thing in common
But you'll need to figure what that is by yourself

Although you won't find a quick answer soon
You will eventually find it one day
Because we have a long journey ahead of us,
Until then don't go off dieing on the battlefield before me
Since you are a shield who protects other
While I'm a sword that cuts a path for others

As each passing days go by
Our emotions, our feelings start to fade away slowly
We have seen many blood spilt before our eyes
Now it has become a daily occurance in the world we live in
But one day it will disappear in the near future we all seek to have

As the war draws to a close,
We also met our fateful day at last
Since that day changed everything
For you, me, our comrades and friends

Before we realized what had happened
You and I were the last ones left
But as you were a shield who protects others
I chose to fight in front of you
I became the sword that fought for our future

As I become fatigue and start to lose momentum
I soon find myself being struck by an arrow through my heart
My life starts to fade as I gaze up at the rainy sky
Only to realize it was your face full of tears falling on my cheeks
I had wished to have been with you in your future, but I guess that I can't now

Now days, weeks, months and even years have pass since that day
You are still full of happiness mixed with sadness in the life you live in
But as you tilt your head up towards the sky with a smile on your face
I look down at you with a smile in return

As you continue to live on with your life as it is
I'll always be with you
Then, now and into the future I'll be there for you
Because it was my dream to be with you

In every song that passes my ears,
I find a favorite line.
Usually one to do with the moon,
lovers, stars, eyes.
I've yet to unravel why,
these jump into my mind,
and walk around for a while.
Repeating their tiny scale of notes,
barely enough to go across a page,
most of the time.
But somehow, they stretch and grow and swell
till my brain struggles to hold their beauty
expanding across the field of thought
till that is all I can hear, see, say.
The songs tumble from my lips,
I cannot hold them in,
though I try to swallow them back.
If only I had a lovely voice...

In every song that passes my ears,
I find a favorite line.
Usually one to do with the moon,
lovers, stars, eyes.
I've yet to unravel why,
these jump into my mind,
and walk around for a while.
Repeating their tiny scale of notes,
barely enough to go across a page,
most of the time.
But somehow, they stretch and grow and swell
till my brain struggles to hold their beauty
expanding across the field of thought
till that is all I can hear, see, say.
The songs tumble from my lips,
I cannot hold them in,
though I try to swallow them back.
If only I had a lovely voice...

with the mind of an artist you'd think that she could come up with
something to jump off the page
strangle you with her words of beauty and then bring you back to life
with every word she has written
but all she can do is repeat herself and stumble, fall, and skin her knees
with the ground at the bottom
to pull something from nothing and force it in a box, then twist it into a
riddle, that's what she does
then she looks at people, makes things sad, tries to believe in her own
lies, then kills with her artificial love
coffee breath, dirty jeans, a tired girl, and a desperate search for
something more
cornering a boy with the shadow covering his face, he's so unknown in
this town that it's almost unbearable
innocence doesn't make him blind but it makes his eyes a portal to his
young untouched mind
she looks inside and tries to find what makes him smile, she unravels
his secrets and a memory or two
everything that came out of those untouched lips made everything
shine and burst with a euphoric light
the lust she had for him was held in a jar with a tight cap and a glued lid,
she hoped it'd never be revealed,
until the day the jar breaks she will forever linger, tense and poised,
until she can somehow relax

the miles between point a
   and b are too many
but as always, the race begins

...and oh, yes
  i am in a race
of my own creation

brain calculates and recalculates
eyes darting
vehicles
    sunlight
road
    mirror
(is that an officer of the law?)

i practice the smoothest curves
   fluid motions
but at the same time
      sweet sassy maggy
follow the rules

don't forget the coffee for the love of god
    make it to the one gas station by 7
for fuck's sake, get around the blue car
   the black car
the raggedy old truck
        before the exit or you know
you. are. screwed. for. miles.

for christ's sake, use all your goddamn skill
   to get a around a stupid slow truck
farm equipment
      or a semi
before thou shall not pass
  or you know your rage will be uncontrollable

things are going well
   you feel confident...you will be on time
you are flying and no one can touch you
   your driving is flawless
       that crazy sun is shining
          and the bass is vibrating your bones

and then t i m e    s   l   o   w  s
    as William H. Macy, you see it
it's that fucking Kia Sportage

adrenaline shoots into my veins
  muscles tense
and i slam into manual
4....3
     take that!
       woman driving like you're on a lazy sunday drive
          smoking a cigarette like it's 1950.
        
don't you know that i'm in a race,
     and you are my nemesis?

The ache for meat from a starved vegetarian
and the life flooding from a dead mans eye sockets.
Images that blind you and burn you,
like an itch under your finger nail,
out of reach, deep beneath what hurts to break.
I'll give you the benefit that I always loved you and I'll pray out loud,
even if my teeth are clenched,
tongue bleeding,
barely breathing through the pain.

A million words wouldn't cure this silence.

This silence is dead,
cold,
rotting,
and yet it stares
with a contradicting smile
and it breathes, continuing to kill,
soaking deeper like memories do.

Understanding the nature of your actions,
                                                          reactions,
                                                          emotions.
You're my paper man.
Your strings are slowly breaking.
One day they'll be gone, and where will you be?
You don't believe in anything.
You're an agnostic piece of literature
that's collecting dust in some old building
where there aren't any people, and if there were,
they wouldn't understand your language,
or your face.
They would fear your hands,
and your eyes,
and your finger.
The finger that pulls the trigger,
that cuts the strings,
their strings, and your own.

There's this certain emptiness that comes with death at ones own hand.

Oh look – look at that!
It’s cloudy and the skies are leaking!

Has it always been like this?

I’m trying to remember something beautiful…

But these memories
                             keep getting
                                                 washed            
  
                                                                   aw­ay


I don’t notice how drenched I am those times when I think about your eyes – I’m focusing – squinting to see something between the raindrops. I do that because I’m trying to remember why those eyes held my gaze in the first place.

Am I to always be a duck quacking for breadcrumbs?
Scarfing them down – quickly as if to free up space for the more to come.

I know there have to be more. Because I of all people deserve more. I do. I swear I do. I tell myself more is coming when I start choking on the wetness.

It's the only way to keep going - you have to trick yourself

It'll be better the next time even! Yea… yea it’ll be better –you know? ...the next time?

Because I can give it back even better... I want to give it too. I still give the little dryness I get away as soon as I get it… and I don’t expect anything back… but I do need more. As much as I try to hide it - as much as I look like I’m enjoying dancing in the rain and splashing in the puddles- I'm not

I’m always wet and cold.
I hate it so much.
I cry too much and it won’t stop leaking just like the skies.

I feel it streaking down my cheeks like raindrops on windshields. I let it run down the length of body and get caught in a pool in my belly button.

And so I laugh because I hate being cold and wet and in the rain but I’m still standing here. And the puddle in my belly button slides out and joins my teardrops – which combined with the rain make me look normal I guess…

But in reality I’m just nakedly standing there…and it's so lonely.
It’s my entire fault too – No, it is. I’m a sponge on the inside.
I soak up every bit of moisture and stay wet – while everyone else is dry.

I daydream about being dry. I look down at my reflection in the puddles at my feet and see what it would be like to be dry. Sometimes I squat down and look really closely. I’ve even gone so far as to stick my head in and open my eyes – and it feels normal.

My eyes are open and I see me … doing those special things with you – that special someone. The Nicholas Sparks’ kind of special someone. The special someone that I see myself looking back to when I’m old and wrinkly and saying, “when I was with him I didn’t even notice I was drenched...I believed I was dry”.

But then I start getting a tingling feeling in my nose when I realize “oh silly, dumb, stupid me – I know I can’t breathe underwater”. And it’s true. I can’t. But I’ll try again tomorrow. Just watch.

I could use a towel. I would love an umbrella. A hot cup of tea would soothe me nicely. But your hands… those special someone hands are who I need to receive them from. Because they are the nicest. And I deserve the nicest.

There's just one problem: I can’t reach them through the puddle…

My love is torn apart
Like the yarn that comes from your sweater
You know it’s there
But you never know when it will start to unravel
Unravel 'til there is nothing left but one long string,
What’s left is my love for you
From the tints of red and blue
I never saw anything quite as beautiful
The way the thread touches your soft skin beneath it
Like it wants nothing but to be worn,
And worn out

Your love runs deep
But it doesn’t tap into the water
That makes up 90% of my body
Flowing through,
Every heartbeat
Every pulse
Every word
That comes out, is for you
More importantly
Every word
That doesn’t come out
Is for you

I keep most things in
Like a safe that has been untouched for years
The dust on top aches to dance
And whirl about
But its duty is to hold our families most prized possessions
The type of holding that no lover knows
Birth certificates, life insurance, wills,
But does any of that matter aside to prove we are but a tiny piece in the puzzle of life

We see ants like we see people, just another thing that is in the way
We’d rather stomp on their souls than lead them to where light is
Because if someone is in our way
At the wrong time,
Better believe we will make it right
Have to be at this very important meeting, at this very important time, to get very important money, to buy very important things

What a shame
We all are
But you never shame me
Sitting at the top of the highest tree
Looking about with your telescope eyes
You cry
“We are all tiny fragments found within the oldest ship in the sea!”
Underwater broken up and scattered about
The captain tries to collect us, reconnect us
But would rather drink instead
He is our god, for all we know
His head is cloudy and his eyes are dull
He gathers our pieces to construct them as one
But is rocked by a wave and loses us forever

What were you to me
But a dream,
But dust
On the flower that I gave you
Two months after we met
That you kept on your dresser
As if it would make a difference if it was there or not

Your ocean like eyes showed me the answer when I showed up that day
I was lost in them but I heard you say
“I’m going away”

My heart sank like an anchor holding up time on a never ending clock
Ticking away until one day it stopped