The toll of Angers tide -
Compels us on, and forward

Forward:
Satisfaction, it never comes!
Forward;
the only direction left to go,
Onward-
We stumble.
Forward-
We're pushed.

The toll of Angers tide -
Compels us on,
Pushing
Pushing us further, pushing us forward...

the tolling of angers tide-
the unrelenting force.

Pray for Truth
n Prey on Lies,
what is a prayer if not worry's disguise?
and then what of said worry, now so clear in our eyes?

Pray that fate wont fail me now-
preying on doubts which always allow,
In worries disdain, the unwavering Tao,

to this critical prayer's
undone what-ifs and what-nows?

twenty seventeen
hostile, hurting and honest;
you begin to set.

Its so unlike the heart to pass anothers sadness by
To leave them at the mercy of all complainants and their cries
Its also so unlike the brain, to remember whats forgot
nothing stops intrusive thoughts in a memory where learnings caught
And so unlike, the lungs, it is
To forfeit all their breath.
To suffocate, in anyway, is the most unnatural death.

when you feel the inevitable toll, in your
heart or mind or voice
acknowledge that in desperate times

you always have a choice.

to hug with your heart, & laugh with your lungs
and remember with your mind-
& to never let these vitals go as wonders undefined

Right now it might seem like a waste of time.
trust me.
to write down a scheme or emotion
some half dreamed-dreams, particles of truth amongst a mostly fabricated memory.
It isn't.
well when you trigger that human desire
for repition yet seamlessly profound plotting
of the ear
you may hear
all the music I'm writing about.

We made it blue, the most loyal colour
Plunges into ocean
Surrenders up to skies
Blurs the constant motion
With longing it implys
The truest of emotion
The most loyal colour.

“I imagine a dreamscape
crafted in fluorescence, by your words
Where no razors fall like trinkets from the sky
But a blindfold of trust comforts the eyes.
May you, I pray, feel un-alone
Though we be strangers in our own homes,
I get it.”

Hey- you,
Am I doing it right?
You're gone- as always

But you know im still here.

oil paint
your poetry
onto the caravan
of my lungs-
so that tonight, may I still see;
all the colors
of your thoughts.

If I had a happy, beautiful government
public punishment
in its loneliness and isolation
would near an ending;
& brilliant lives we'd guide
till it's time to cure the world

In Ashleigh's book, I now write
& provide her with this true insight:
We have yet to be friends- how we're connected despite,
all of the habits we-

Choose; Still,

to diminish the light.

Look like the flower but be the serpent beneath
Teach for the hour but speak only for minuets
Love for the passion but **** for the pride
Climb for the high, screaming never enough
Remember the happiness
And weep, when you feel its echo.

A unique love owns
Both me and my Father (and brother)
As it's special home's
Found within one another.
So be what you are. Dare and think and move free
But humor always
the lover
your dad raised you to be.

The sincerest example
of love
Is suffering.

To suffer
For what you love;
is to understand
Passion.

when I hold
my own hands
My imagination does ensue
they aren't burning
in the cold
and are somehow holding you

And when, away it is you slip, my hands hold tightly still onto
the belief you now know and understand- to me,
What this wickedness did do.
feel it break
a constant ache
construe
when I'm holding my own hands,  
it's to pretend that one's  from you
and to comfort the soul as this life's
suffered through.

I see you, in your miserable high

I wonder if last chances gone by

In protest you'll hear me screaming Why?

N hope the you thats loved wont die

Alone, we're caught in Meg's Constant's
sigh.


Thank You for Taking Me to The Disco
I'd Like to Go Home Now

✋

I looked into his eyes while he said his truth
laying in the next room, on the bed
Receiving; then believing, what was expressed-
my glass white, while his red.