Still awaiting the day when the poems saved as Private outshine the ones posted for the Public.

Trees melted in the sun
and I realized that you are not the one to save me.
Nothing ever said or done will be enough to erase what I felt
while the earth surged up inside.
Thirty-six hours never felt so long.
I lived and died so many times.
I never knew I loved this song
until I heard you sing it.
A constant ring inside my head.
My crime now is to bring it back.
Cut off but don't leave any slack.
I swear my middle self was dead.
Your outer brought me back to life.
I hadn't felt it in so long.
I didn't think I'd ever hear it again.

A hand reaching out.
A hand that belongs to someone you love.

I can't.

Offered in apology.
In a sincere heartfelt bid for forgiveness.

I can't.

A hand that every part of you wants to grab and hang on to forever.
For life.
For the night.
For just a moment.

A hand reaching out.
A hand you know so well.
A hand that belongs to someone you've loved.

I won't.

That every part of you wants to reach out and grab,
save one.

I'll swim after writing half an essay about my favorite philosopher.
I'll swim again and think of her.

I'll drown after agreeing to go out tomorrow night.
I'm not looking forward to being brought back to life.
I'll drown again and think of her.

I'll burn after I turn out the lights.
I can't sleep when my head isn't right.
I toss and turn and again, I burn.
All the while I think of her.

I'll melt as the dreams come on too fast
with desires of the one I cannot have.
Into a boiling ***,
I am thrown and stirred.
I'll melt again while I dream of her.

Made a big splash by playing their out-of-tune upright in the spare bedroom,
with the kids all gathered around.

I can't play any songs that you might know,
but I can make this thing sing if I really wanted to.

"You should make soundtracks for movies or something,"
says an impressed parent.

Meanwhile I'm thinking:
*If this was my way of making a living,
it'd ruin all the fun.

I want to have grace, like she did.
I want to have patience like this one.
The most intelligent friend of mine once told me:
You're like some sort of chameleon.

I want to have skills like his.
I wish I could play guitar.
I want to have money, like their parents.
I'd like a reliable car.

The most psychotic friend of mine once told me:
Art is truth in disguise.
I want to be bold, like she is.
I want to reflect the fire in her eyes.

So I'll go and change colors again
into a new skin that matches the times.

I want to be beautiful,
like the one who'll never be mine.
I wish I could sing like she does.
I wish I could blow her mind.

I want to vibrate with vibrant energy.
I want to echo sounds that fill my soul,
like how the most reckless friend of mine once told me:
I'll die before I grow old.

I want to combine of all these things to make a new mold,
and reform myself from its grooves.
I want to shine like a statue made of gold,
with tinges that reflect the best from all of you.

Read a short story today
about a guy who has a dream
that he's writing a poem.

Took a nap when I got home.
Had a dream about writing a poem.

Woke up and wrote it.

It was just a fantasy.
Faded now, but even then,
I haven't grown up yet.
Still a kid playing make pretend.

In reality, I'm afraid to be your friend.
I've a pristine image of you in my head.
All glossy glow in a coat of varnish.
I'd hate to see that halo tarnished.

Angel, don't you understand?
I'm not fit to be your man.
I know you've got one and I'm not him.
Jealousy is such a deadly sin.

Heard it said many times from lovely lips.
Karma has gone and flipped the script.
Finally forced to admit a phrase wrought in irony:
You Are Far Too Good For Me.

Regret is a vampire,
and Guilt is supposed to be a thing of the past.
I thought I killed it already,
but it just keeps coming back.

I've got to drown one last time before I can swim.
Sink down into the whirlpool and pass through the eye.
Feel those winds on my face under a stormy sky.
Curse the gods with a dizzy head while clinging to life.
See it flash before me in all its bliss, pain, and strife.

Just one more time.
One. More. Time.

Before I can come out clean and dry on the other side,
to finally leave that maelstrom behind
for good.

It may sound strange to you,
but this is what we do.
After dealing with ******* all day long
we come here to tell the truth.

You may not understand why,
but this is how we get by,
and it may not make much sense,
but it makes us feel alive.

You may think it's all we know,
but this is how we grow.
Go and shove your "normal"
To us, you're the ******.

I speak in metaphors,
but I feel like I've met you before.
You were what was hiding on the otherside of my door.
You were the canopy at the top of the trees;
Basking in the moonlight.
I tried to climb but I fell on the way up.
You were the branches that broke my fall.
You were the leaves in autumn;
How I tried to catch them all.
You were the one that held me tight.
You were the clouds that cloaked the moon in the middle of the night.
You were all the things that I struggled to see.
You are everything that I want to be.

Got it.
Don't you get it?
I'm gonna overthink it,
but I've got to keep it going
while the getting is hot.

Got the feeling she don't know it.
Now I've gotta show it.
She gets the underlining meaning of everything that I have thought.

Fought through thirty memories I swear I had forgot.
She gets it and she gets me
and now these feelings just won't stop.

In her eyes I'm not reflected as anything that I am not.
Got a funny feeling that she's stealing all these lines straight from the heart.

We gave it all to be forgotten by the ones we chose to love,
but I got you and you got me:
Together,
we'll rise above.

His head spun so fast that he kept forgetting where he was;
Laughing as his cart flew off the tracks to crash-land in a graveyard of carnival ghosts.

"I've lost my way," said the sea gull.
"Can you please direct me to the coast?"

His eyes rolled so fast that he lost sight of himself;
smashing the magazine rack into the bookshelf
which sent every never-read novel straight into the trash.

"I'm lost," said the runaway.
"Won't you help me to get back?"

His arms flailed so fast that he sent the silver-surfaced sphere soaring past multicolored circles to crash through multiple ***** resulting in flashes of blue, red, and green to play across the shadows of his face.
In a frenzy, he shook the machine and caused a tilt.

*"I've lost," said the mason.
"Everything I've ever built."

I never really got to know you before building you up into an emotional vortex.

I could argue that you ****** away the best parts of me,
but we'd both know that I was really just looking for an excuse to shed excess weight.

I tried a trick that I half-remembered learning during that short eternity when I lost my mind.

It worked.
We were both surprised.

But what does that even mean?
Caught up in definitions
and playing with the meaning of things.
Life seems so real, in fact;
it's like a lucid dream.
The way we deal with that is at the core of all our being.

She was crying when I got there,
and throwing up when I left.
I hate seeing her like that.
She's always been the strong one.
Well, the second strongest,
anyway.

I practiced guitar and played my keyboard,
and played burn ball with my brother and his (sort of) son,
but I still feel like I did nothing productive today.

My friends were drinking and I brought a bottle.
Beer wasn't going to cut it-
just sayin'
Gave a ride home to the kid who drove me to Tim's.
I didn't bring up the irony of the situation.
Brought Wayne home soon after.
If M.A.D.D. ever got word of me,
I swear, it'd be a disaster.

I killed a turtle yesterday,
on the way home from the hospital.
I didn't mean to.
Thought it was a piece of trash.
Placed it between my two front wheels.
Too tall for his own good.
When it hit, I swear,
I almost had a heart attack.
Went back to see if he'd survived.
An upside-down and ****** broken shell was all I found.
I'm a horrible person.
I swear, the worst.
Kicked him off the road so he wouldn't get run over anymore.
But I'm pretty sure he was already dead.
He was dead, for sure.
**** everything;
I don't care anymore.

So much for breakfast.
Tim locked us out.
I'm half-shocked that I didn't get violent.
I thought that I might get violent.

I love my friends.
I love my sister.
I love that turtle too,
even though I killed it.

The feelings begin to warm.
The son has left without warning.
The night stretches out in a black blanket of unknowns.

The feelings heat up.
The hair on the back of necks bristles.
The midnight hour has come and gone like a missile.

The feelings are boiling.
The oceans are churning.
The ships have all set sail straight into the eye of the storm.

The feelings simmer.
The son has returned.
A new day is breaking.

All feeling has burned.

Not curious.
Not even a little bit.
I won't spend the rest of the night thinking about it,
or wondering, "what if?"

What if I'd said this instead?
What if I'd acted differently?
What combination of behavoirs would've lead you into bed with me?

These are not the thoughts that will go through my head.

Not even close.

Said the young guy on my right.
"Why?" asked the bartender.
"Because people are more likely to come out if you yell 'fire.' It's been proven."

Her brow furrowed in doubt.

"Well that makes sense," I said, trying to help.
"**** makes people uncomfortable, but everyone wants to see a fire."

The sickening sinking feeling that comes with sleep still persists.
Is this what dying feels like?
I know bliss is fleeting, but it cuts deep,
and gives me a reason to continue to exist.

If you let them,
they will try to keep you here.
In this sea where you've learned to swim,
but the water is thick.
Just treading it
is exhausting.

Memories are moments in past tense.

There are so many things that I want to say to you that I shouldn't.
There are even more things that I should say to you that I wouldn't.
You remind me of somebody that I used to know.
One who let me break their heart then broke mine in revenge.
I'm scared that I might do it again if you ever give me the chance.
It's why I keep my distance.
It's why I hold my silence.
I've always had trouble with letting things go.
It just means so much to me -
every word you say.
I've always been afraid of letting people in.
I'll exhaust every effort in pushing you away.

Everything I've ever told you about me has been a warning.
I tried to cool down your warmth.
Please don't smile at me again.
I can't make you understand how much it's worth.

Everything I feel about you is way too intense.
I want to explain it,
but it doesn't make any sense.

Anything you say gets repeated infinitely
to leave me swimming in a pool of memories,
but my arms are tired and now I'm drowning.
The thought of you takes the breath out of me.

I'm caving in underneath the weight of what it means.
These are the kinds of things I've tried to stop myself from feeling.

Everything I've ever said to you has been a warning.
Every single one of them has gone ignored.
Please don't smile at me again.
I can't handle loving you any more.

And I'm going to say it -
real soon.
Just give me a moment.
Give me a momentary stretch of time to collect myself.
You know,
to clear my mind,
so that I may let this thing that I want to say come to the surface;
unobstructed. Without any need for fancy presentation or forced rhyme.
Just give me a second. Okay, I think I'm ready.
Here goes nothing:

*Something.

I heard her laughter through a wall made up of space and time.
I swear there's something in her voice that reminds me so much of mine.
If I tell you a joke will you do me the service of granting me a smile?
It's nice to be reminded of my lost innocence once in awhile.
I'll force rhymes and recycle lines just to get a rise.
I'll speak absurd profundities to spark a twinkle in those eyes.
Her glad and simple laughter makes me want to cry.
When I'm in her presence, I feel like I could die.
You simple, silly girl.
You clever, brilliant thing.
You make me feel alive again.
You make me want to sing.

To the bright shiny people with a radiant glow,
I'd say this one's for you,
but you already know.
And so, this is for the others:
The battered and bruised.
The broken in shambles;
distraught and abused.
Those who think that they make no difference.
I'm here to acknowledge your existence.
This one is for you.

The world can be cruel -
known to deal a bad hand,
but you've still got to bet,
and play the best that you can.
It's better than just sitting at the table
as a cynical, do-nothing, always complaining and then
criticizing those who take part in the action.

You hate others because you hate yourself.
You're hopeless because they've got you convinced that you're living in hell.
"I can't do anything right," says the self-loathing pessimist.
You can't change the facts that make up your past,
but the fact is that you can always change your future.
There's hope for you yet.
No longer will you deny your own happiness.
You deserve it simply because you exist.

Did we not all squirm and twist our way to the ****
to get there first so we could worm our way in?
Naturally,
no one remembers any of this,
but it had to have happened because otherwise
we would not exist.
Not as we are now -
not how we've always been -
so I say raise your fist in celebration of that initial victory.

Even if you haven't won one since.
Even if you feel bogged down by misery,
it only means that you've let yourself temporarily forget that it's miracle at all that you even exist.
You're a part of it all just because you are there.
So I ask of the forgetful,
the indifferent,
the scared.
How can you not see the beauty?
How can you not care?

In a pinch, the picnic table can double as a shelter.
Nevermind the would-be athletes vaulting over it.
The lyrics of our song are carved underneath.
Sometimes, late at night,
I stand on top and remember how to breathe.

This road looks like a picture
that I took before my time.
It sticks with me like déjà vu,
but I'm about to drive.
Get out of my way.

All the things you think you want
hang precariously from string.

Pretty, precious, fragile things.

Reach out to grab one and they all fall to pieces.

How could I have thought that there was anything to gain from you?
All you've ever done is remind me of the things I lost.

Side by side,
rows and ranks, cow hide, leather flanks.
Hard to the bone.
Tough to penetrate.

Don't go thinking any connection is a thing.
Don't go justifying would-be mistakes.
People are people,
even when reduced to a number.
(Especially when reduced to a number.)

What are the odds of this sum equaling one?
Nevermind.
There is a mission,
and work to be done.

I'm not afraid.
I'll do **** near anything I deem worth doing,
but I won't do that.

I'm not restrained.
I have no struggles with refraining from unleashing the feelings I'd rather not contain,
but I have none left for you.

I've already killed them all.
You're dead to me.

I raked, trimmed, and mowed this yard today.

I can dance through it if I want to.

When I was six I ate a fish that tasted like my future,
and presently I'm telling her that things are starting to feel unreal again.
"Shhhhhh.
Rest your twisted head."
I said she gave me this wicked vessel,
and that I hate her for it.
She said,
"I know darling.
That's why you're my favorite."

There is a place where just the shape of the door that let you into it is the stuff of nightmares.

There is a state of mind that can accurately describe the intricacies and outricacies of what it means to be insane, but you'll never remember how to describe it. (For good reason.)

There is a plane where the trees can actually communicate with you,
and by god are they mean.

I'm cool with how cool you're being about us not being cool anymore.

I'm sorry about your floor,
and I apologize if some got on you.
I just can't hold it in anymore.
Could never digest this -
I had to spew.

Been taking it in for years.
Way too many to count.
A regurgitation of the regrets and fears
came pouring out of my mouth.

I'll clean it up.
Don't you worry about
that.
Just hand me a mop.

There's no going back,
though the smell still makes my stomach turn.
You'd think I'd know my limits by now,
but it seems I'll never learn.

I'd prefer to not ever wake up instead.
Please God, won't you please strike me dead.
I've given you plenty of reason;
we've never been friends.
I can't take it anymore.
Let this be the end.

To think about the same things in a different way.
(To think is to play with meaning.)
And to be struck with a heaviness that makes me sink through the ground,
only to find that there's nothing but air underneath.
Gaps between layers of earth.
I can dig down to another one.
I can run on the surface of one ad infinitum.
Or I could float.
I can fly between two then push off with both legs from the bottom of one to burst through the top of another.
I can clench both fists full of dirt along the way to spread them spinning around me in the empty gap above.
I can watch it all bloom,
surrounded by beauty,
and feel filled up with love.

Is it ever any wonder that I should wind up back here?
The bittersweet nostalgia and the taste of old tears are just a reminder of what I've lost over the years.

I could argue that it's a good thing.

The best intangible stuff best left behind.
But I'm reminded of what I forgot.

But then I remember why I forgot it.

His phone was full of pictures of the most random **** because every now and then he'd get into a mood where everything looked beautiful.

Despite all the shade I throw at my family,
truth is,
they're alright.

So this is what it's like to be alone.
It's not so bad, really,
but I can see how it could get old after awhile.

Broke the surface with the provided bucket.
His face followed shortly after.
Proud as a father
of the fortune contained therein.

Gold-plated doubloons and dyed resin jewels
planted there by employees that very morning.

At the end of the day,
it's not my own end that I contemplate.

Those thoughts are so yesterday.

My situation has changed. The world has changed. People are changing. My outlook can change too.

At the end of the day,
I think about tomorrow,
and how I can begin something new.

I like it under this tree.
It makes me feel free,
I can say and think funny, silly, or sad depressing things.
I can just be me.

I want to sing,
I want to scream
at the top of my lungs.

I want to run full speed to the end of the sidewalk
and keep running after the concrete is gone.
I'll throw open my arms
to embrace whatever beauty I find waiting beyond.

Play a song you like.
The kind you long to hear while you're out there living your life;
the one that rings in the back of your mind while you jump through the hoops of all the things that you're supposed to do.

Play it just for you,
and play it loud.

Feel its tones vibrate through your bones as you spring from the couch and start moving.

Finger-tips spread out with electricty shooting from one wall to the next.
Bouncing off the ceiling and falling back on top of your head as you somersault into the atmosphere.

Feel yourself disappear into the shadows of every moment you've lost while the time of your life suddenly materializes right before your eyes.

Play your song.
Play it loud.
This is your night.
This is your life.

Feel your soul move from your heart to your hands as your fists clench tight.
Punch the living daylights out of the sun until you're splattered with a glow that only the moon knows how to  appreciate.

She's only ever shone for you.