Uninterpreted fears
Are a creaky door
Can’t be left half open
Or you're unable to pass through
Use the window

Turn to me
Look me in the eyes
Now turn around
What do you see
Not the rich, rolling grass
Nor the speckled stone
But the feeling
Like the tender nervousness of a first kiss
Or an embrace from a new friend
What is this feeling?
I cant make you feel it
It starts in your chest
Then works its way out
Your eyes warm
Then your limbs get fuzzy
This thing that we do
Pretending we cant see it
Look around you
You must only but glance
Its being alive that I see
Look for it next time

damp, weary feet
being ******* at the sun
a heaviness around my neck
the draft as the descent is made
a growing growl
slick to the touch metal
jostling
wanting to be with someone
self consciousness
turning corners like i know
slowing down once the last one is behind me
sitting down
patience
losing once
twice
more patience
looking around
and now backwards

Dad?
Why do we argue
Why do we fight
I'm a man now
I know you don't like it and I know it hurts you
But I'm a man now
You used to be like me
A man then
Not too rebellious
Not entirely foolish
Conflict isn't condemnation
I'm a man now
-A.F.

We dance in the ashes like
Literary scavengers.
In the ruins and after rages
We draw the shreds of words and pages
Around our naked bodies like Blankets,
A quilt of the quintessential struggle
Which all people suffer

There seems to be no hope for these lines
As I read them I drift away
I just want to sleep
These people, with their false woe
Their sappy loneliness bleeds off my screen
I can feel it
Melancholy
So rich is the ink
That one cant seem to breathe
But what we can find
Is the slippery confines
That are minds
-A.F.

Nothing is as it seems
Not the sky
Not the trees
Everything is alive
Colors
Shapes
Sounds
The very means of writing
Inspiration is derived from asperity
-A.F.