a man can olnly be so real
i do my best to be transparent
nearly always end up translucent
in the blending of black and grey i lose it
greay fog choking out the music
hear only wind not the voices that it carres
thought for **** sure that with our promises we married
ourselves to a future despite the hellfire we'd have to walk through to get to it
but it's apparent that what was apparent was not the truth
even after you quit it,  i can't quit loving you

I am not afraid of the wars I wage
I am not scared of losing sight of your face
I am at peace
in this war we wage
your victory is this day

I will not bow to the kings of the dust
i will not bow to my failures or lust
I rest fresh in your embrace
a child at last, i have seen your face
traced its edges with my fingertips
heard the love blaze through your lips
touched your cheeks, they felt like mine
I rest on your lap, content this time
to know you
to know you

Tick.
Tick.
Not a clock.
It's my neck.
Tock.
Tock.
It's heavy on
the chopping block.

I felt like the sea.
waves of emotion, turned,
tides inside of me.
Shells scattered shores and hid beneath the waves,
yells, and places torn, and water beaten caves,
salt tears overflowed from places in the deep,
my blood still swam through me, despite  my slight heart beat,
i buried inside the crimes,
bodies lay where i lay, as i killed from time to time
but loved i also many, though many were not mine
I felt like the sea, powerful, and powerless,
i ever run and ever rest,
waters violent in my chest
i suffocate and became escape
a place where deep trenches hide deeper dreams
and some have become nightmares afraid of what they mean
I felt like the sea.

i want to paint a picture
the canvas stands in front of us
we're holding hands
the brushes in our others
staring at the canvas we begin to paint
a picture that we love and so many others hate
we paint OUR starry night.
a nightmare for van gogh but  a dream that i know that
i want to last
no blending of colors in moments past
stars in the sky and the moon in a haze
we'ew barely breathing, comatose, but so awake
i could see the wind stirring the sky around and inside
as a torrential zephyrous blaze
so deep, so untameable, so true
and it flew.
into the page
as each stroke glints in your eye and in mine
i cry.
its so beautiful i cry
and the stars cry with me.
no color recreatable
no lie its unmistakeable.
our love is a masterpiece.
every masterpiece is incomplete.
let's paint for eternity.

Tryin to figure out what’s captivating me
What captivating means
Tryin to figure out
What scintillating
How senses feel to seem
Tryin to figure out
What’s enchanting
Captured
Captivating me

Writers run dryer when their dreams wax dire, families fade and push them away. Nothing left for them anymore, nothing but sore skin where they're scratching their brains. Traces and stains of soft serene sayings, st-stutter and shatter, stay stuck locked in a safe where it's all right to be tucked tight children latched in a vice. Poets stuck in their heads know what that feels like. Locked up when you should be swimming in soft sleep, but tough, paranoia penetrates, sleep deprived ticks take you hours to shake, slumbers escaped until light takes night and nightmares shatter headspace. Waking up is a sweet embrace when you spend sleep reliving pains, remembering shouting and spit spraying from faces, feeble praying and echoes of voices saying "it's not the same" Thoughts flitting and flaying psyche from physical frame as trauma is replaying in the background of your brain. Fits of fear fraying sanity, filled with shame because of weakness and frailty, I'm a poet on the verge of insane.

Darkness cannot drive out light
what then happens when i shut my eyes?
when i spin into my head with clouds become sight,
and the whispers in my head are the most convincing lies,
what happens when i say I'm all right
when that's the last thing i could manage to be tonight
what happens when i let the red spring up from my soul and  sheathe down my arm
what happens when i embrace all the things that keep leaving me scarred?
The darkness wins, the light is out of breath,
the shaking, breaking,
leaves eyes leaking,
raw lines raking
my heart deep in me
the darkness drives out the light

i need emptiness for light to fill
so empty me and shine i will

I tried to draw you but i could never do it justice.
I just couldn't record your perfect sadness.
Nor the smile that wouldn't crack through that day
I couldn't etch this paper with the outlines of your face.
Those outlines i traced a thousand times that night.
with my eyes.
trying to make sense of them.
You told me i couldn't change them.
And somehow i knew it before you spoke.
It weren't that the edges of your face were broken.
They could never be.
Not ones so beautiful as those.
Sure, you have your little imperfections -
your hair falls oddly, sometimes,
the small dot on your nose,
divots around your mouth when you frown-
but i love you with them.
And even think most of them are beautiful.
Though i never could bring myself to like those divots.  . .
I guess because i never liked it when you frowned.
You'd tell me i needed  more than luck to cheer you up,
but that didn't change the way my heart wanted to make you smile.
I can recall only rare occasions when i did not have that desire,
even those were just occasions it was underneath another emotion,
a darker one, a heavier one i'd trade away any day to make you happy.
I knew i loved you that night.
It made me ask some hard questions.
Are we bad for each other?
Should i hate myself for this-
for what i do to her?
Not if you were worth it - but if i could stand it to stick around
but that answer didn't matter,
I'd do it even if i couldn't take it.

it nonsensical that i'm cynical
when love has always been  my pinnacle
i created a false dichotomy
between being loved and never being hurt
but that's just it, loving takes a lot of me
and it's covered me in years of blood and dirt
but that can't bury it's worth
i plunged my hands into the earth
expecting a dagger that laid dormant,
but the beauty that i found was stark, and storming
sharp, and thorny,
but with petals too, uncurling
not yet in full bloom, but soon
A  white rose will come under another moon
licked by drops of blood,
pricked from my fetid wounds.

Begging to have our eyes opened
we spend our days prayin or smokin
Sayin wer'e looking for something higher, higher

We walk on solid ground just as timidly
as the ripples  rippledthrough the Galilean sea
broke scared
broke scared around peter and Jesus' feet

write deep music deep music  
but we won't ever sing it in public
because we're afraid that we'll find
that when it hits the ears of the audience
it won't be worth the words we spent

the truth is

we look for
the Sermon in the suicide -
moral in the ****** of five

the truth is, the truth is
sometimes it's hard to find

What's on my mind? It's hard to pin myself to paper, to pen myself to paper, in a forced manner, bound by fetters, but remember later, the resistance is better, the nurturing of my underside, written in fine lines, they are not wasted time. They are lifelines.
                     The letters are lifelines. The essence of my devotion. Moving in motion. Like the color of my pen, matches the color of the ocean, and the scribbles on the paper match the rhythm and the notion. I understand, it's understood, It's unavoidable but I'd avoid it when i could, escape it. Break loose. Unchain myself. free to wallow in the more comfortable chains i smelt.

there are two things i regret most.
they are
not realizing how far behind i had left God
and hurting you

Time seems to drift off listlessly, almost endlessly, almost ending, in one smoothe uncertain movement.
i lower my gaze to realize that the warmth that spreads down my legs is my own blood, draining from my veins. In a softly lapping waterfall stained beautifully crimson. Take in the handle of the blade that my body seems to draw in like a lover- with gentle caresses and a loving gaze. A flush warmth about my skin. my face nearly aglow. It is to those who watch it grim. But barely a smile escapes my lips. When i realize that the protruding hilt is equisitely ornate, crafted from silver memories of smiles, interwoven with platinum hopes i had for our future, inlaid with opalescent ignorance. It's irridescence reminds me of our bliss. Intrigued, i bear the blade and pull it free, loosing a metallic shower of rusted red and liquid iron. And in the split second i have left before after my last breath i expire, i lay my eyes on the blade.It is just as breathtakingly beautiful and forged from what seems all the lies you told to my face. Lies so laced with grace that i, the cynic, believed them in full. Dead, i don't even have time to speak before i fall. But i think
"your betrayal, though painful, is beautiful.

I shy away from sentences.
In the spaces where words should be,but aren't I can maintain my anonymity,and shore up my unrepentance.
  When I speak in more than snippets, it becomes plain.
I am as broken as my preferred pattern of speaking, of writing.
If you look close enough, you can see it.
It isn't as clever as I wish it was.
And sure, its effective enough at soliciting a fleeting feeling.
But what good does it do?
I like to pretend that I want to be known.
Really, I am hiding just out of sight.
Around the next corner on that daily walk where we sometimes collide.
  In circles of other people you know.
You've seen my face, you know my name,
youd even say you know me.
But if you were asked who I am, you'd hesitate,
with a catch in your throat, and a half reassuring-half derogatory smile.
" well, you're.. You" you'd say.  
And no matter how many times you're asked, you'd repeat it.
For days,months, years.
I've watched it happen already.
I'm not sure if I haven't taken the trouble to really introduce myself,
Or if you haven't taken the trouble to realize that I am not just
Some whimsical syllable
Plastered on my shoulders
From birth to now.
And now, we don't have time to be sure.

I keep smelling dead things,
and fire, and smoke,
ammonia, and ****...
I wonder if I'm dead,
or am dying,
If i'm laying there in the gully,
where his subaru crushed me into the ground,
if my chest has caved in,
if i've been moved yet,
leaving only a stain in the dirt
and a crash path through those frail little trees
How am I here?
and not there?
That is where i ought to be...
is this some hyper realistic dream?
has this already happened?
or is it happening?
and how the **** would i know the difference?

I will live this life as if i haven't yet,
make memories that matter,
even if i am already dead.
It is the best i can do.

I'll be the first to give you what nobody gave me
I do my damndest to love you, but only one love can save me
and the same is true of you
I want to look like that
I'll be the first to run as hard as I can even after the fact
II'll let you walk on me even if it means I cannot breathe
I'm loving you better than I can even love me
And i fear that that will have to change
No I'm not selfless, at least not too long
because soon i look up from down and i'm too far gone
I've been told i can't live like this, Can't love like this
that it would run anybody into the ground
You've told me that the only way i could even begin to love you
is to have silence right now
so i swallow my heart, choke it back down to my chest
I will be silent, you will have your rest
I will not make a sound
but i will not bow,
to foolish ideas that i never loved you then,
and that i do not love you now

I've believed I gotta give up  my soul to gain it
I am as broken or more than the faces i've painted
Can't pretend any longer
that self hate is sacred
I would have swallowed the truth sooner if i liked how it tasted
so i am noticing here that there has to be a balance
the truth must lie somewhere in the middle and i will have it
if i have got to pull out all my teeth
I will rip my tongue out
if that is what it tastes like
to gain the privilege of speech

affections ,reflections of each other
columns in a cavern of glass
a room of mirrors
edges gracefully traced in my mind
each as much a picture of what i feel as the next
I begrudge no mirror what it reflects

That it has so quickly become so dark
when not yet an hour here has passed
and moments ago the sun stood royal, stark
and whispered in my ear "you own love at last"
But own I thee love?
Or dost thou own me, love?
For but a slave
though far from hopeless
happy are all manner of
man who sells himself for to purchase adoration
selfless, in pursuit of all he chases
he is chasen
for aeons
aging only at the hands of what he sought
for curiosity had hearts and minds quickly bought
given to the wondering
found within, man
abandoned the wind to chase the wind
ever i hope that we shall ne'er again abandon him

I din't tell you to read my ****
never wanted to make you feel bad for it
split myself opened up blood and veins, transparent on pages
saw you quote song lyrics like they were designed to spit in peoples faces
maybe you meant me, and maybe ya didn't. i aint mad if it wasn't me
but it's ******* for me to fake it and this is where i'm freest to be me,
so if it's here that makes you say
"never underestimate a man's ability to make you feel guilty for his mistakes"
well look in a mirror and don't be like that man who forgets his own face
face it, i'm not the only one who's made mistakes.
I love you, now let's move on from this place,
together,
i hate the silence and the distance
and the slightest semblance, the bleakest resemblance
to what we might have had, or thought we did,
to what we swore to when we said we accepted all the **** that comes with each other
why are we acting  like this when we were almost, maybe, sort of, lovers?
when we're friends,
the rare kind,
that come once,
maybe twice if you're lucky three times
in a lifetime,  
(all different of course)

I am tired.
I am sore.
I miss you.
Let us rest together, if only a moment more. . .

Five. A simple number. Not so simple getting here. But it seems like my whole life was lived up until we began - so that we could begin - and make it this far- and even farther...i just don't know how far...and more than anything i wish i knew.. i wishwe'd get to see each other more than every two or three weeks... we've been talking all the time - mostly about nothing at all. And i miss you like crazy baby... I feel far from you...and it worries me...I hate feeling far from you...when you're the one I'm closest to. It isn't a pretty place, and I don't know what to do, but I've had this line of a song stuck in my head for like a day or two..."If you don't like how this place is, then take yourself to higher places". That's what we'll do. We've been in high places together. And we've been low. We've been places we shouldn't go. But I'm where I want to be whenever I'm with you...and today is special so I want you to know...while feelings go up and down and we do too, my love for you will always be atleast this big.
                                                                                          
                                                                                                                              Codybear, your very own STR
                                                                                                                                                 (<3)

I beat back the worry And the wish for me.
I provide you with a taste of my presence and my words.
I sate your hunger for my attention.
And then I recede into myself.
Ever I am in flux.
Are you hungry,am I tired?
Which need is greater?
How can I give to you what I do not have?
I hide my emptiness by hiding it at the bottom of my perceived depth.
If I seem deep, of is only because I'm digging the hole.
And I cordon off an acre around it,
Because God forbid somebody fall faster than I can dig.
Once you get to the bottom of me,
I'm just like everyone else.
Empty.
Hungry.
Lonely.
Trying to fill myself up,but unable to find what fills me.
Trying to sate my appetites,but they always grow.
Trying to feel known,but torn between hiding and showing myself.
Happiness evades me.
I am colored pervasively by my lack.

sentiment more often accurate
than i love you
"i lust for you"
or
the words behind the words
(wanna have ***?)

I will try.  I don't know that i will succeed.
To describe the things that went through my head.
I was there. And somehow i knew  turtle was beside me. but only for a second.
then he blinked out of existence.
and the sounds...they crashed together. they  became so loud that they were indistinguishable from one another.
then nothing. quiet.
only pictures.
pictures and questions.
remembrance.
i wondered why i was where i was.
i saw the succession of choices, mine and other,
that had placed me.
i wondered if it was the end of everything.
i was crushed by the subaru.
it flattened me into the ground and kept rolling.
but i was sure...that i was done.
everything...all of it...
pictures so quick their edges  werent in existence...
this.....amalgamation of my experience...
looped through with slivers of my dreams..
all ******* in the ideas of what i wanted to do
what i dreamed
what id do different
what i never got to do
who id leave behind
how  it was all my fault
how i cost them me,
how i would leave a void in them that nobody else could fill
it wasnt how i wanted to be rememebred...
but at least they wouldnt forget..
i became for some, what no others could be.
it wasnt much. it wasnt even enough.
id die with many regrets.
and id die young.
god i was young
what was i thinking
yes..i was stressed...but relief wasnt worth this
id go through a thousand days
a thousand times *******
if it meant i could have just one more..
not even a good one,
at all, any day would do
i understood my dad
any day above ground...
you know how the saying goes
i wondered if it was like this for him..
maybe not full of adrenaline...
but perhaps he relived his entire moment
as he slipped away
would i see him?
what was there?
i didnt see any light..
i didnt see anything for a minute..
i was so deep in my brain..
i was this kernel of thought curled up inside of my skull...
buried...beneath all else..
i shrunk....into almost nothing...
i faded....and then from blank,
back to seeing.
am i ...alive?
i...i was crushed..
i...am i bleeding?
can i breathe? is anything broken?
blood from my foot.
just there.
can i move?
i can move.
HELLLLLLLPPPP
HELLLLLPPPP
SOMEBODDDY HELLLLP
CALL 911!!!!!
BRENT.
where is he?
okay i was thrown out...
theres lights.
thats the car. check it.
is he in it?
is he trapped?
run down the mountain.
there are briars.
go around.
push through. just get there. doesnt matter if you get cut.
he isnt in here. unless hes under the cooler.
move the cooler.
okay he isnt in here.
where is he. i dont see him. was he throiwn?
call out.
i yell. nothing
wait.
a moan. which...down there.
there he is .
i see him.
diagnose.
can you move?
talk to me?
can you breathe?
is anythign broken?
are you breathing?
hes talkign in circles.
not good.
better than nott alking.
but someything is wrong.
i smell fish?
pat him down. feel for breaks.
can you walk?
let's get you out of the creek.  
up the hill.
we have to get out.
how.
i cant see a way.
some strangers are here. i dont know his name.
ask.
is 911 on the way?
good.
can they find us? how far?
where are we?
i dont know the area.
can you find a phone?

gossamer silver rays dance and lurch lovingly across the face of silken smooth waters
liquid heat rears its head on the lonely shore, ducking when i spot it
wandering feet cross tentatively over dull glass sands that scream
dust and sweat fill the lungs of youth that dream
thick woven moonbeams and the rythmic pulse of speakers saturate the air
children in a drunken stupor stumble across the dying embers and don't care
unfeeling, they are lulled to sleep by empty thoughts
bottles slip from their hands and their friends step over them
i hope they can find their way home in the morning

we are
Brothers not of blood, but of a bond that bleeds
brothers stronger than the boughs of any family tree
brothers truer than any of our parent's sons
brothers that are brothers despite all the hell we've done
brothers more honestly than i can say to all my kin
brothers
we are brothers, despite the color of our skin
brothers, ever, the color of our hearts the same
brothers, loyal, brothers, through the final days

I’m blue, unfeeling, bathing in haze
A lonely vision on the edge of the surf
And in the edge of my gaze
I’m not sure what they are
Wispy ellipticals foam over the
Dancing crystal surface
Are they eyes?

It seems like they’re staring
At the salt as it glistens on my face
Weaving my fate with jerky glances
As uncertain as my entranced heart

I can’t see the color or
The washed out one they
Used to be
I don’t know if I love or
Hate their mesmerizing glance or
If I hope to break their faded edges,
Lines

The waves whisper and
Wishes of moments where I knew their beautiful hue
Crash back into my mind

Shhh. . .
The waves put a finger to my lips

I know what color I wish they were. . .
Autumn
It was autumn and the ocean waved goodbye. . .

Now watch me with my uncertainties drift downward
spy me falling slow or quickly southward
yet do not ****** me up;nay, grab my hand
and pull me gently back from quickened land to land

vaguely i return from softened sleep
i pray that to the fant'sies i have left
i have not lost my soul but have kept
my body and my soul, my mind intact
that though i love the journey, i needn't journey back
to steal vitality- return't unto myself
that my heart lay not hidden among pages upon a shelf

I pray (with my heart-for that is what makes it prayer)
I will not leave but find both here and there
the very heart i oft'n fear i've left behind
tis new, it grew, and changed along with mind
and soul, both here and there -among the mythic leaves
and in sleepy softness when i a'first awaken from waking dream

the realms of fancy both far and near at hand
reach out and touch you like a kind and wrinkled man
sagacious-many stories has he to share with you
gained through eons and ages of conglomerate imaginations
mystery and mythical in all their machinations
learn here what never was found in earthly realizations
heaven loosed on earth -in heads, hearts, and inclinations

a twinkle in his eye hints at many secrets
a longing of my heart overwhelms; bids deeply that i seek it
uncover the connections;his smile flashes white
and mischievous - but no fear or uneasiness overtakes
curiosity creeps in - why?! what?! I must know what you have known
"seek and you shall find, ever travel deeper in",
"seek and you shall win-
the prize- a story all your own"

and fant'sy has aged grown from old to young
indeed he knows that stories kept - that stories never sung
**** life! **** life! go hungry and alone!
and infant dreamer with nary a scream
nor tantrum to leave his lips
may tell as many and great or greater stories
as or than a man with ancient wit

my heart has taken fancy to fant'sy
my lover is my lore
but ever unto day must every daydream shatter more
and oft in life i must momentare -lay aside longing for myth
and often unto lore with life must i take part as *****
and often unto life with lore must i remind my heart
that faithfulness to myth and real may meet within my art
and life that's lived just as a myth is just the place to start
and myth that's lived just as a life is where it all must end
and all that lay between the two is life; and i will spend
to seek a story for the sake of a story
through this - story i shall find
and glory subvert for the sake of substance
you shall not know my name -
for fame i'll sacrifice for worth
and name - i shall know mine

my arm, maliciously stripped from fingertip to mid bicep of flesh, dripping blood, ragged and torn. I ****** it up into the air in defiance and victory, and in the spirit of this movement, the heart of it, my arm burst into an oak tree.

You could have heard
The wingbeat of a wingless bird
I was frozen in place
Stiff, with a stone for a face
Legs heavy as mountain sized blocks of granite
Probably not a force on this planet
Could have moved me, at least I doubt it

After all the hate you’ve radiated
All the silence you’ve created
I am welded to the wall at my back
Not strong enough to
Take the two steps that it’d take to
Walk over and sit next to you
Tell you how many things
I wish that I could take back
But you do the thing I can’t
The last thing I think you’d want
You get up, walk, take two steps and stop
Sudden.
Sit facing me
A face I never thought I’d see
Look at me again
Especially not with that spark in your smile
It
It always told me when
Your smile was real

My eyes trace
Every inch of your face
In glances
Glances like the dances
Of shadows chased away by midnight
Broken by firelight
Yours trace mine

I take in the complex mix
Of tears hiding in your eyes
Shifting glances sliding by
Subtle smiles bursting I
Think I see a remnant of friendship
Hoping just a little bit
Hoping for a hope, that’s it
Think the (soft ,strong, wavy, weak)
Punctuation of our voices when we speak
Reveals it almost perfectly

I chew on every word I hear
With every word I speak
And the whole time we’ve been talking
My heartbeat has been shaking my rigid body loose
Stone skin sloughing off
As if I were a cement snake
(I feel like a snake)
(in the background)
(and in the background I think)
(this might be the feeling that makes)
(both our smiles sneak off our face)

We speak in broken sentences
And repeat ourselves
And speak in
Broken sentences
It sounds to me like
Words begging to be heard
Being heard again
Again
But for the first time

was it right and just the wrong time?
or was it wrong?
did i break it, or just bend it?
should have i begun it? should i ever have ended it?
the fact of asking questions
makes me think i know the answers
I still wish i could be with you.
I am sorry for what i have put you through.
I know i am forgiven. That is not my worry or my hurt.
My hurt is in the dashing of what we had upon the rocks
as if it was an infant, and i just couldn't take care of it,
or it was sick,
but it was a beautiful child, and i will miss it,
even though i never really knew it.

I feel even now, as if in my aimlessness,
my direction, my weakness,
in my search for truth, and  the strength to make the  change i know i need in myself,
I am only destroying any and every inkling, of anything that's left,
if there is any at all
with each breath,
with each kiss,
with each time i try to fill this place you fit.

with each time i try to move on, or distract myself, i fear i give up my future,
the one i know God wants for me.
Yes, he is sovereign, and if it is meant to be it surely will,
but, i can't help but wonder, can't help but feel
if i can thwart it,
that i broke it.

What have i done,
and what have it done it for?
yes there is love but,
love like pearls
on the floor.
I keep trying to pick them up.

What can i do but try to see their luster through the dirt?
What can i do now that i have figured out what they are worth?

Broken together or broken apart
at the start my heart
is torn asunder
my lover torn from me by another

I'll whisper
whisper when the wind picks up
I still love you, I'm sorry

I never have been good at reading lips
but I hope this is something we don't share
as you stand there
windblown hair,
with nothing on your face
I hope you understand
this time I'm going, I have no choice
life has made it for me
I'd take you with me if i could
and so I'm sorry
I'll whisper
whisper when the wind dies down
I still love you, I'm sorry

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

Helpless to reject you when you call for help
pick up because i'm powerless to do anything else
beg for some kind of insight into this insanity
manage to hold my breathing half way steadily
speak in calm tones, gentle, to console
you're crying - and you have no way of knowing
what that still does to me (it cuts me)
The whole time i call myself helping, offering an ear, a shoulder
something to hold onto when your world is blown apart-
this tightness in my chest, a consistent catch in my breath
an ache, a longing, not something i can explain
but it has words of it's own - and i know what it would say
"i still love you, I'm sorry"
this conversatuion serves to make me smile and mar me
unspeakably

(click.)
(dial tone. . .)

Ringing of raindrops on a tin rooftop
Tintinnabulation, wrapped up in lightning storm vibrations
A fickle thing-be it friend or foe?
Until I'm wet I never know.
Is it the rain that changes?
Or is it me?
Is it the cage that cages Captured wings?
Or is it the bird inside who has forgotten How to sing?

Assaulted by memories
Like
Carrion birds to carcasses
Remembering your words
But
Somehow still struggling to know whose heart this is
And whose chest or grasp it’s in
If
It’s been ripped free by a maniacal beak
That from the beginning knew that it would speak those promises in truth
Nevermore
Or
If it’s still there locked away in my chest
Like an all too ready rioter’s fist, shaking at the bonds it’s in

I feel sideways
Like I’m melting on the page in
Horizontal lines
That fluctuate to match the edges of my mind
As it attacks itself in subtle ways
That are easily mistakable and even harder to trace
I feel sideways
Like the smile on my face
With it’s crooked teeth and smirked edges
All fakes
Are falling right here on the page
I feel  sideways

i suppose in one way, i desire to have your heart.
but it is and will always remain true that i am not the one who should hold it,
that as much as id like to be entrusted that much,
i shouldn't be, because at least in some small way, i would break it.?"

maybe he should never give it away..perhaps only allow it to be borrowed by careful hands...

it is that utmost obsession of his  -
that which he desires to show off to any who would avidly appreciate it -
as long as they did so whilst respecting it -
he doesn't want his prized heart to be chipped or broken -
and it - like all hearts - is porcelain brittle

not strange...
that...
that may just be the way in which a man can most beautifully experience the heart of another

i...wonder if i ever could be that selfless...
when i have wanted a heart for my own for so long...

I really don't believe I am..
and even if I am, the question then is can i consistently remain such?


i know God holds hearts...
and so can men..
.i do not know whether there is some counter intuitive phenomenon
in which a heart can be fully and equally held by more than one...
and as such im just rolling over how hearts work..
.or should work...
in the context of marriage and avoiding the tendency to
"seek to please ones spouse before god"
as will undoubtedly be the case for any man who marries any woman -
if not the enacting of
then the leaning towards



so-
the wrong question for the situation -
not -
who holds the hearts -
but who holds the HEART -
not the trading or the giving, but the merging and the making into a single entity
wholly dedicated to the pursuit of the higher and more beautiful realities of God

it is a nigh impossible feat and one that only God can perpetuate in any human being

one flesh indeed-
one body needs only have one heart

Background bombarded by
four/four back beat
.44 - bang!
forty-four  goodbye.

When Amber just as gold is measured worth
And gold’s no longer shiny through the dirt
When beauty isn’t seen within the earth
And not being gold then doesn’t bring hurt
Then beauty is found flowing from tree’s girth
And words from lesser stone are always blurt
“Beauty in the simple is always found
Yet out of simple beauty comes no sound”

They were crawling on me
I couldn't breathe
their claws clung to my covers
i was stiff
unable to move,
i forced a single breath into my lungs, and snapped to,
and they were gone,
but what were they?

I might look like
ive got a dagger and a dirk
on in each hand
ready to stab deep, to hurt
might look like
ive got fangs that drip venom
but venom's not in em
It's a vicious cocktail
of hurt and hope
might look like
to my temple or to yours
ive got a glock
but i dont and that
tick tocking sound is not
a gun cocking it's a clock
winding down in my memories
because i'm stuck remembering
and reliving them
so i hope it's relieving to know
it


might look like
i wish you dead before i go to sleep
but what i wish is you were next to me

My heart broke for you but you wouln't believe it
I heard he hurt you and I'd already preconceived it
and told you so, but i won't say i told you so
I've never been that guy. you know.

I know of no man who is completely different from me. I own commonality even with my enemy. I find it there, deep, sometimes hidden, but never missing, in his humanity.  

For the sake of love I suffer much, and say “my pleasure”. I mean it.
Sometimes it is harder to mean than others, but i mean it.

Ah, when we come to the moment of the shattering of the mind, so many are afraid to fall off of the precipice. But friends, sometimes, a little insanity is the remedy. It is not the breaking of your reality, it is being freed from a cage you never knew you were born in.

I was not inspired by some grand thing that only i could grasp. I was inspired by bits of simplicity and truth that can be touched by any living person. And perhaps more so the dead.

Have you ever seen a normal person? I , for one, have not.
Everyone is strange.

Tonight i step from boxed in room to balcony. I spy the moon, and i understand that it has missed me. I have missed it much the same. And i do not wonder, but i know, that it is but a sliver of the way that i have missed you . You are more to me, even than the moon. Were it not for the moon, i would be lonely tonight. Were it not for you, i am not sure if i would be, but if i were, i would not be me.


I wonder if it isnt true that every act of love carries the risk of betrayal. And  for that weight is more beautiful. Perhaps some would call me an enabler, but i am simply a lover.

I am hungry. Much in the way malnourished children are hungry, and widows are hungry, and  every man is hungry. There is ever a hole in me, but ever is it being filled. I find this to be but a single blessing of eternity. I am sure that there are many more.  

Everything may recede into chaos, but my heart climbs to bliss. Everything may descend toward death, but it is to life i rise. Every moment may pass by as but a breath or a vapor, but a lifetime is worth living if it is lived rightly.  It is the summation  of those fleeting moments that become something of signifigance. Whether to ourselves or to those who we brush by in the ephemeral.

It is not over. It is never over, but it is finished. Complete since completeness knew itself. It, or he, if you so please, has no beginning, no end.

Welcome, to the grandest of adventures. Only wait and see and you will think  of me as a liar and of this as my lie. Go, do, and you will know me as truthful, and this as my truth,

I would say that thoughts assault me. But smoothely they do glide over my skin. They shrink to  encapsulate and caress, they slide into place and there come to rest, not weighty but tasty, and light, filled with opposite ends of worlds, and outlines that spin dreams, of families, and futures, and cute little girls with freckles and ginger curls.