Driving tractor-trailers,
We switch gears because we feel the gear is giving out,
because there is a hill or curve approaching.
We learn that we are to inspect our tractor and trailer before
and,
after each trip.

In life,
our tractor motor is our soul,
our body is the tractor.
We are driving along the road of life.
Some of us are still learning how to switch gears.
Many of us don't know when a curve is approaching,
nevertheless a hill.
Many people inspect their bodies,
forget they have a soul.

Imagine discovering yourself
what you love,
what excites you,
what makes you cry of joy.
All because you now know more about you,
Your happiness is cut short.
Everyone around you,
abandons what you think is true.
Now imagine they all tell you
it's not real.
Your excitement just comes and goes.
Although you cannot stare at what brings you joy
for too long because of tears
it is just
an illusion.

They never come without
love or cuddles.
Despite what anyone may say
they never end.
An absolute necessity,
craving desire,
you always find your way back too.
Loving this much
has made you weak,
kisses are what keeps your soul sturdy.

We are hurricanes,
leaving behind traces of who we are.
Separated by categories,
are the souls of every individual.
We seem to be dangerous,
others catastrophic.
One leaves you alive,
for you to later
find a way and get back up.
To think the next one could be,
one of your parents,
a new or old lover.
Bashing through your soul,
a friend or relative,
rips.
Leaving your body uninhabitable,
seizing to exist.
The soul inside can take it all,
but for how long?

What's not to love?
The obvious always seems so boring,
With you I jitter and laugh.
I now live,
Expecting unconditional love.
Constantly I miss and adore,
your touch.
We float with no gravity.

Today was a short day
I heard melodies within my heart
Saw the air breeze by with a pale face
Today
I learned to bleed without breathing
Sweat without physically moving.
I found that catching deep breathes is easy
Under water especially.

I was always gone,
Bliss will be the music at my procession,
Smiling am I inside my see-through glass hearse
February,
The month where most flowers end up in the *******,
Sick am I of being a lover.

I can make pretend everything is okay
As if the rose I once planted was not dead long ago.
It's as beautiful as you can think.

Discovering dimensions of death
Look at how beautiful life is without you.
A millionaire on his throne.

I discover more of me
the more I find in you.

I am the air that sings inside your heart,
before you lay to sleep at night.