Light looks very good .
but not when ,they are not from your city.
Faces looks very good
but not when ,you are too far away from my city.
You tolerate me several times
when you needed me
I never tolerate you
when  you need me.
Now my time has been change
I change according to you
and you change according to time.
I have lots of time for you.
and You have no time for me.

My world is not of the written word
It cannot be numbered
held captive on a so called page

My world is liquid
as sea , rain , snow or ice
It can be hot , cold , or entice

My world is cloudy
It thunders after it flashes light
My world is wrong , my world is right

There are no words that bind my life
I won't be delegated
to exist in the black on white

I will not be staved
by the limited sways
of the written words upon the page

You should be here with me
My heart is as empty as the side of the bed that you used to sleep on
And my life's crashing harder than the waves on the shore like when you first kissed me
And I'm falling harder and faster into loneliness than I was when I fell for you
And I know there's no stopping this
But you should be next to me
Kissing each freckle on my arm and tracing "I love you" into my palm because each letter deserved it's own recognition for it made up a larger picture
And you should be next to me
With my head leaning onto the very shoulder I spent entire nights crying into
You should be beside me
But I guess this was all besides the point
And now you're next in line for a new girl
I just wish you would give me a next chance

might we all have a touch
of glaucoma, selectively walled in
occluded by mental myopias
where there sight  is
half a day of suns,
night is blindness, never twenty four seven corrected
or twenty four right? Twenty tween's
fear and reality?cataracts
always coloring it as black or white
no depthness not colored right?
When tears fall, and people
run into burning buildings,
when innocent stars are blacked out
might we just,
let them go?

I am Day Dreamer.
Dreams lots for something.
Realization in my dreams
Encouragement in my dreams.
Selfishness in my dreams.
The dreams are dreamed by open eyes but
When I  close my eyes they disappear

under a bowed oak more appropriate for two lovers tryst,
in a grass grown field on an empty back forty., with a full tank
of petrol, he would park, smell from his little tanks,
lose the day  the night his sense.
His Honda 50, turned on its side he might
have wished in his brilliance, for a spark.

He always came back cross eyed dizzy, reeling saying he talked with god.
I believed him. His tortures
were worthy.

I saw him again 1987, he was smiling. He could not talk.
But he smiled like he had seen god,
then would
**** his pants,
the same look on his
face .

There was a baker
Who's output was prodigious
Cookies, pies and cakes
But because he was so rushed
A lot of them were half baked