They say you don't gain anything
From being humble;
That life doesn't find you
Hiding behind closed curtains.

I think that's the problem:
It doesn't need to find you
Because you've already been found.

Just because you weren't met
With the grandeur of "success"
It doesn't mean you haven't lived.

It's the simple things in life
That are truly the finest.

To live for oneself is not selfish:
It is human.
To live for others
Is purpose.

Here I stand on the ***** of my feet,
Watching as the time passes by.
The day fulfilling the dreamers,
The night exhausting the lost.
Why must I move on?
Why must I go?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.

Here I sit under a stately willow tree,
Accompanying me with its hospitality.
It droops as it stands so mighty,
It rises as it slumps in humility.
Why must the tree persist?
Why must the tree grow?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.

Here I lie in a box of plastered wooden veneer,
My eyes encumbered by pitchy darkness.
I breathe my gratitude of this quietus,
I cry my despair for my own creation.
Why must I wallow in my regret?
Why must I now feel this woe?
Now I know.
Now I know.

Like time, are we found through serendipity.
Minutes, a mere tick to unfounded revelation.
Past, are the days when we go subtly by, dissipating into the night sky.

Like time, our corporeal spirits aloft into the pitchy sky.
The tender kiss, a gentle stroke, nuanced by the caressing love of the lunar above.

Like time, are we imprisoned in our own conscious. A mere abstract picture, blown into the winds, caught adrift, and veered into the dark streams of reality's heavy rift.

Like time, we are ethereal wayfarers: youthful beings marked by ephemeral nature, merely to trance the universe's wake.

And like time, our departure ticks till the last grain meets, and the sand flipped, to start all over again, and again, and again.

I can already feel it...
Please don't let it like before.
I need water.
I need light.
I need to know what I am doing.

I don't want to end up like before:
Vomiting my guts out,
Praying that I don't die,
Not before the flush.

I've drunk enough.
I've had enough.
Please don't let me spend
The night before the flush.

I've had enough.
God knows
I'm sorry.

Please...
I beg...
No more.
Not until the sunlight.
Not until—
Not no more.

I swear...
No more.
I swear...
No more.
Not until sunlight...
Anymore.

For tomorrow to come,
We sleep.

Like a reset
Of yesterday.

Forget about what
Had happened.

Let's wake up
To a new dawn.
A new day.
A new memory.

Allow us to move
Into a new light,
And keep the good going
And the going good.

Ive been gone.
A long awaited freedom.
Gone for so long.
Ive been gone.
For too long,
Ive been gone.

In my memories,
A past lingers in a haze.
The spaces so divided,
A connection seemingly quixotic.

Its cloudy.
Its dark.
A moment in space.

It feels like an eternity.
Floating in a universe with possible impossibilities.
Yet I remain aimlessly afloat,
enshrouded in nothing.

No drift
No serendipity
No clemency
To pull me from this cold idle.

And when I see a comet hurdling by,
I can only wish to share its great journey.

An affinity sequestered away in a languid beat of my heart.
To whom I've fallen for so gravely ill, this churning affection grows a part within me.

The fire toils for a great satisfaction,
one of which I cannot fufill.
The strung voices that I provoke to keep you in the know are nothing but a timid reliance to keep me in the dark; a fault I've succumbed to, and a death I'll forever hold in disconcertion.

Perhaps it is best I keep the key for my own, but this pent affliction will be a pernicious ailment, gutting me within as the present becomes the past—day by day.

Oh, how I walk among the shadows,
lurking in a void, consumed by the daunting portents of failure.
Oh, how the hauntings of what could have been lingers.

But, alas, my silence has spoken, and now I must walk the shade of night and bear the quietude of my lonely plight.

Sing the song of gratitude,
should the grass grow.
Felt beneath our feet,
the soil breathing its song.
Let it growl a languid tone,
for its tongue rests underneath its greenth overflows and wild creatures.
A picture of placidity it draws, hidden under its overtone of yellow kingdom.
Don't let it loom over you,
for its stature is everything but onerous.
Tell it why you fear not the soil nor its engulfing sky, and it shall move the winds easy.
Speak with candor and imbue it with your love.
Because when it hears your song of gratitude, it too will sing.

No place.
No place to go.
No place to hide.
No place for help.
No place to confide.

Hurt in between,
But not at all.
Hurt in the heart,
But not at all.

Not here nor there;
But somewhere
The hurt bears,
And it does not fit anywhere.

In the middle,
In a muddle
Of things
In life.
It's there.
It's here.
But it doesn't fit anywhere.

They've made it
For you and me.
It's there
For me and you:
A place for us.

A place to share.
A place to breathe.
A place to rest,
A place to lie.

A place for us.
In peace,
A place,
A final wake.

Let's share it,
You and I.

A place beyond.
A place above
And below.

No other to go.
So let us share
A place.
Above and below.

In.
Stuck within.
A place,
A palace:
Home.
You're home.
Don't stray far.
Wondering where it'll take you.
Home...
It'll take you no where.

Here.
You're home.
A comfort.
A place.
A sort of--
A green in blue.

I gather,
A thought or so,
A place anew:
Dejavu.

At hand,
A drink or two.
A night's cry;
A bellow from winds.
A thought or so;
The thought
Of green in blue.

How I've been here before.
A world,
A place,
All too familiar.
To experience it ever more;
Oh, what a world.

Here
And there,
I've been;
A place
Where no one would go.
A sort of world
Like Home.

Yes, I've been
To a place
Like home--
Not like yours or mine;
But a home.
A home,
A sort of
Green in blue.