If I am to never have love again,
To be plagued with the inability to love,
Do not let me be alone.
No, if I can not have love,
Let me have the next best thing.
Allow me the courtesy of building up a wall of your kisses,
Separating myself from the harsh reality.
Wrap me in oblivious arms as I close my blind eyes.
Pretend to love me, whisper me sweet nothings,
And I will return the lies.
I will be just as unloving and numb as you, my dear.
And we will pretend to be the happiest two you ever did see.

As the deposit in my shoulder begins loosening, visions of a paradisiacal oasis reveal themselves. I can almost hear the pina coladas being poured atop the pool bar’s island countertop. Cabana chairs, shaped like beds, perfectly host kissing parties within the nighttime’s ocean breeze. There are businessmen purchasing cigars outside of taxi stops and ******* within the depths of knick knack shops. Everybody’s stocking up for tonight’s white wrist band karaoke bash on the top floor of each and every all inclusive resort and nobody’s holding back any expenses.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Dreams, visions, hopes.” replies the Preceptor.

and i think when they see me on that stage
they see something you could have been
had your sickness not swallowed you whole
and i think when they see the light hit my face
they see a beacon that illuminates the cages of
lost souls
and i think when they see me open my mouth
they see butterflies and bats and birds and brand new constellations
and i think when they look into my eyes
they see oceans and flowers and dreams of a child
waiting to be born.

I don't really like birthdays
I guess I just don't like the falseness
Like don't get me wrong
Having people you care about
Show they care about you is nice
But it's this Facebook crap I really can't  stand
Like, I get hundreds of happy birthdays
From people I don't even know
From people who don't even know me
But even worse
From people who actually don't like me
They feel the need to put on this face
To pretend they care when they don't
I don't mean to be cynical
It's just my real friends will most likely call me
Or ad least text me personally
No, I have no time for the Facebook brigade
Jumping on a bandwagon
Just because you feel you will be frowned upon if you don't
From now on I'm boycotting birthdays, I think
And removing my date of birth from these sites
Social media has ruined the thrill
Of getting a happy birthday
Off someone you never knew cared enough to remember

"What's your favorite color?"
This is my least favorite question.
I don't believe in one favorite color.
A single color repeated over and over gets boring, redundant.
The color of his eyes when he laughs.
Or the color of the moon against the deep blackness around it.
Or a small blue flame.
Those are beautiful colors.
They are colors composed of a million other colors.
But there is no single color that can be defined from them.
No hue or shade or opacity that can recreate such a refraction of light.
No combination of reds or greens or blues can even begin to mimic their beauty.

Patient and waiting
Caring yet feelings hidden
Believe the lies and ditch out the truth
Evade me more and you will suffer longer
Those events that happened so quickly
At the same pace you will lose them
Try to stop the present
Lose sight of your future
Unknown and unclear
These paths unmarked
With a tilt of your head
You always look up
Answers aren't above you but within
You seek for something greater
Catch it now or you’ll be catching it later
You know there’s nothing out there
Nothing is of value
Nothing to wait for