If the human body is composed of billions of atoms coexisting for a purpose, then what does that say about our souls within the universe?

If not for those tiny atoms, I would waste away, a vibrating mass of electrical pulses and confusion.

But together, connected,  something wondrous is made. Albeit no less confusing, but able to comprehend morality and beauty.

In that truth, I feel so.. miniscule,
and it leaves me speechless.

The farther I travel, and the wider my vision becomes, the smaller I become.
But there is no weakness found there, I find strength beyond measure.

I find within me, within all of us,
a complex being floating within the cosmos that in all possibility could be another being searching for meaning in the stars floating behind their eyes.

I wear my heart on my sleeve,
but that shirt is hanging in my closet gathering dust with
all the other things I have left behind.
The love notes,
kisses for autographs and picturesque photographs
are packed in a box. forgotten, but always in reach.

I am looking through one way glass at the world,
screaming at the top of my lungs,
but no one can hear me
and I try so hard to get their attention...
The attention of those who are never worth it.

One foot stands in the cool breeze of loneliness like the maudlin moonlight of a midnight freedom
while the other stands in hopeful cecity to feel the warmth of lips on my cheek
or a hand lightly clutching mine...

I am stuck between universes,
like the space between dreams and the waking world.
Here I live and here I watch.

...perhaps I'll run into someone, someday...

I was born in
chains
with the gavel hanging over my head;
you were born
free,
the ******* children of the dollar bill.

The seasons turn and you fasten the chains around yourself as I slip soundlessly through the bars.

We started on opposite sides of the board.
I look back as you sit in your cell.
Unaware,
while I run beyond the fence to a freedom you will never understand.

You're the rarest of pieces,
          a limited edition of some
        beautiful puzzle.

Forgive me, my dear,

                   but I'm from a different puzzle...
                   Our pieces can touch,
but never truly fit...

Your god is forged from wolves,  
dressed as men, with hungry eyes.
The day I watched them feast is when I turned my back on
god.

When a voice whispered in the emptiness, "Let there be light.",
an echo murmured back,
"Let there be darkness."
Eyes wide shut can't tell the difference.

I spray ashes from my lungs
left by cities which you've burned;
refuse your pious nature
and praise you never earned.

Somewhere deep in hiding,
the light will wait in patience,
while you drown the world in darkness
with the evil you created.

Why the winds of change surround, that in that split pivotal moment, I succumb to my only weakness; the hell in your eyes.
A hell I found swimming there like fire shimmering against the void seemed to be a candle leading me through places never I have found myself before; a new pathway dimly lit in the darkness.

Let me prove I'm alive.
Hear my voice and gather your mind. I'll sing like a sparrow anyway. Illuminating smile through the daylight into the depths of the jade night sky, can you tell that I'm alive?
My candle flame may be faint, with sharp winds.
Huddle the light left, to regain your effervescence once more.
For me.
That light calling against the shadows like winged musical notes dancing through luminescent fog slowly brightens an otherwise crestfallen and ill favored forest;
a pathway leading towards something better than where we may have previously been.
A reverse entropy catching the darkness and casting it where our skin may be rid of it.

I call out a name and an echo murmers back my longing.

Still straining with such force. An implicating smirk.
Ain't that funny...
I know what you're thinking. I can hear through the whispers your spewing.
When you're gone, I'm afraid someone will take my place.
But I won't stop breathing,
and as far as you know, I'm still dreaming.
These dark trees are trembling and every leaf swaying through the lifeless glances you break. Take my hand, walk with me. Let me reminisce these memories of us.
Though memories fade like photographs motionless in the light,
a spectral imprint is left behind like the lips of a ghost visiting in the night.
The mark you leave is a map in my dreams that leads me to treasures that can barely seem
a treasure at all in its mysterious madness because I fight for happiness in the blissful sadness.
A sadness I breathe in the vanishing of you.
Of me or for me, cause it's not like it seems.
A facade so well disguised.
You'd think the life would fall from her captivating eyes. A humble remark, I've pondered a few. But this lashing of thoughts is tattered and sorted. I feel as if I'm falling through the cracks of this foundation. if we crumble, tell me please that you'll feel better.
Those intertwined fingertips are slipping through the gaps.
Though if your sadness tears you up. I'll stand by, listening.
Because your silence is as deafening to me as the heart strings being torn from its base. Thumping in and out time with this meaningless state. And if I ramble in this space. Remind me the reasons. Don't leave me stranded in this range.

*To abandon you would be to abandon myself, alone and forgotten on the side of the road while cars fly like stars past the loneliest bars where I sit drinking whiskey to drown thoughts of you.
A bittersweet truth that none can avoid,
who float through the hallways like phantoms in empty homes...
is that no matter if you touch my skin and kiss my lips,
alone shall I forever be
past a wall you can't breach with a legion of screams.

My soul was crudely etched into a wall by unseen figures casually strolling through the universe on late night musings.
They forgot to add an element though, and so I have been searching east and west for whatever they might have missed.
They filled my lungs with self doubt and electric pulses of insecurity.
I have been trying to model a caricature of what they think I shouldn't be,
a lonely dust gathered blueprint of the actual me.
They filled my veins with flame and gave me causes without a name,
but I guess I don't mind.

All I know, all I dream...
is that my blood is made of chaotic words trying to make sense in the darkness.

And I want to show the world my open wounds.