I could appreciate her today. I had been watching those golden gestures compliment the frame of elegant houses. And for moments alone on a reflective sidewalk, I had forgotten what my face looked like. Yes, she was a whistler of pastel importance. A type of language only significant when the island pores of sensitive humans bleed open shamelessly and without counsel for their tears. The afternoons have a style all to their own, and I remember glass.

You're skin was like communion
And you're lips were like sin
As I reveled in every damnation your body could afford me
I held tight to you
Praying on bent knees for just another moment of this glory
But the seconds moved like sand between my teeth
And the time was bleed dry from my body
Left with nothing but a pillar of salt
With you're hymns still floating on my breath

have you ever believed
in something so blindly
so genuinely
that the moment you realize
it isn't true, something inside you
changes forever?
i wanna tell you a story, see
seldom do i ever
go swimming in drinks
deep enough to drown in
but when i do
i speak in tongues
about things that none
of my memories
are allowed to talk about
like that christmas
at the isthmus
where my girlfriend
plucked a conch shell
whiter than gods teeth
out of the sand
held it to her ear
and stopped time
that day she was a shade of blue
the could've made the ocean sick
see, she loved to play jokes
when she held
the sea shell to her ear
she gasped, called my name
and said "i want you to hear this"
i said "yeah, right, everybody knows it's just the same old sea"
she replied "no. not this one. this one is special. listen. theres music in this one"
she handed me the shell
like a promise she couldn't keep
and i held it to my ear
with all the potential
of seeing shore
after being stranded
at sea for years
only to hear
a tired dirge of silence
spill from its emptiness
i guess she didn't know
how desperately
i wanted to hear it too
because ever since
something inside me snapped
now sand pours out
of every post card i open
i hear seagulls
in telephone static
sometimes i have dreams
where i bury my hands
in every beach
i've ever been on
and exhume this graveyard of noise
every time i try to sleep
i spit up fishhooks
and i guess i'm obsessed
but maybe
if i hold my ear
to enough vacant things
then i could have back
the time stolen from me
since it happened
maybe they would get it
if they knew what i wanted
when i blow out birthday candles
maybe they'll find me
face down in a wishing well
i watch eternal sunshine
of the spotless mind every day
pretending i can forget too
because this sea sickness
has followed me for years
because yesterday
i walked into a music shop
and all the pianos broke
but the only thing
i can think to say is
*do you know how bad
a memory has to be
that you fantasize
about forgetting it?

i hope i left a gap in your life
the way losing a tooth leaves a hole in your mouth
and you keep running your tounge over
where it used to be

Sometimes words just can't say what you feel
And the most beautiful poetry is

the tears sliding down your cheeks

the memory of being too small to understand anything but a smile

holding someone's hand for the first time

the pain no one can really put into words, when you lose the most important person in the world

The daydreams and nightdreams and everything else inbetween

And knowing you are loved

I don't know what I'm doing
and I'm not sure if I ever did.
These worries wear me down
and sit heavy on my chest,
but I have no plan for my future
because I'm not sure
if I even want one.

The season has turned again
but
Are you warm at all
Do your intentions shiver
Could you run to far lands
and
Find your convictions
so
Comfortably swathed
Can you find enough fuel
to
Sustain the fire
of
Past afflictions