A vacation paradise would be great
Of course you must come with me too
But my idea of paradise is
right here, right now, with you!

The music playing in the background
gives way to sweet romantic kiss
I never thought in a million years
That I'd end up with a love like this

Fireworks explode in the night
As I whisper to him, "Paradise is here"
"It's anywhere you are," I say
And it all becomes so clear

Whether we travel or not really
does not change how I feel
I just need to be in your arms
to know that this is real

People walk on by and only glance in my direction
unaware that I am suffering from a deep rooted infection.
For don't you see that I'm painfully dying
and in the future you'll know that I could've been saved,
all it took was a simple moment of trying
and to hear the things that I always craved.

They tell you a drowning man will drag you down
but I've always been a strong swimmer,
we can easily take on another pound
just focus on the waves surfing glimmer.
Keep going, keep rowing,
don't inhale that salty sea.
The wind's blowing, exhaustion is showing,
I'll hold you up even when you can't hold me.

People walk on by and only glance in my direction
they aren't the slightest bit shocked at my self inflicted dissection.
For I desperately need to remove my organs of rot,
these days feeling just takes too much of a toll on me,
and they're so badly damaged that no customer has bought,
even when I offered them up for free.

They tell you a drowning man will drag you under
but I've always been gifted with a swift stroke,
how I made it out this far truly is a wonder,
or maybe just another sad tasteless joke.
Keep going, keep towing,
don't you give up so easily.
The wind's blowing, pace is slowing,
I'll hold you up even when you can't hold me.

So call me Ismael 'cause I'm lost at sea,
was caught up in a current very swiftly,
and my white whale has lost all interest in me,
I guess there's some other place it would rather be,
than stuck in my sad excuse for company.
Do I glimpse land's salvation or am I just succumbing to insanity?

Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.

It's always night, isn't it?

How hushed voices seem closer
How a light breeze sweeps over your face,
bringing back a thought you never could shake.
How a song takes you back to 17,
a boy and girl,
a light kiss,
the ocean.

It's always night, isn't it?
How you feel the moment when summer turns to fall
How alone feels tangible and cherry sweet, or so so metallic
How a bird wakes you from dreaming,
and he is no longer there.

The years have reached out

You gasp,

and lean

and rock

and tear

and

It's always night isn't it?

How you yearn for the part of you that cannot be stolen from time.