Not at all confident in where I stand
Not at all full of any fully formed ideas on the matter at hand
I am unsure
That I am
Who I think I am
That I am
What my hands create by their actions
If I am forming my own dissatisfaction
I
Get lost
In the
Mazelike craters and crannies of my wandering and cynical mind
As it fluctuates to attempt to avoid the pattern of divine
Revelation that just might bring my doubt, wandering, and day to a point of
Disintegration,  I suppose this is a twisted and muddled form of self alienation
Maybe. . . Or am I mistaken?

I asked you what your dreams were, you said they always change
I asked you how that could be, you said they're different everyday
I asked you what your biggest dreams were, the ones i've never known.
You say you want to marry me- here i am, mind blown.

It's sort of a shocking reality
I never thought I'd be with a girl like you
let alone be with YOU.
It's insanity personified.
I thought it could never happen.
told myself it couldnt.
But it has.
and in very drastic ways.

i miss talking to you like i miss writing
their absence is frightening
like something inside is only just alive
like over time it 's fading...
like my reflection in your eyes as i'm forced to walk away
i say
we have our lives ahead of us
but that don't dictate what the distance does to us
I'm afraid of this

contrary to what one would expect by name
watching goosebumps makes me laugh

I saw morning glories in the morning
white and full of pride
purple crowns around their green stem necks
alone, but not lonely
in a cotton field where i ripped up roots
and uprooted rocks

I saw morning glories in the afternoon
tired and a little pale
purple crowns looking like they needed a bit of polish
solitary, not brooding, but thoughtful
in a cotton field where the sun beat down on me
and i refused to bow

i saw morning glories in the evening
withering and dying
almost dead, looking for heirs to their crowns, but finding none
melancholy, but somehow still solemn in the stark heat
in a cotton field  where beauty i did meet
and speak of here and now

losing you feels like
the absence of a long present friend
a year long storm that out blew it's wind

you'd think i'd notice more often
that the clouds are gone
then too, you'd think the sun shines
perhaps not, perhaps again

not neath cerulean skies,but sinking
drowning in the thoughts im thinkng
here again the lonely night,
again the questions plague and plight
and when in honest answers come, i speak and after all i've done
look back and wish that i'd not spoke, for tears i've spilt and hearts i've broke
and passions flamed and suffocate
and enter in to no escape
but here i sit and ask i none,
the skie dark blue, not cerulean