There she stood
and in her hands was my heart
and in her heart were my hands
and there i was
staring into her eyes
and her eyes stared into mine
i looked closely and i
saw my soul swim freely through the sky
the only thing that i could say was "hi"

Do you remember when everything we had
was just merry go rounds and shared
words and tears
shed over others
over several years
and not between ourselves
when our scars were the shapes
that childishness could still hide
and for the sake of others we put our desires on secret shelves
and we still talked and there were still lines to read between
and hide behind
and we used to walk and together lose our minds
in parking lots sitting in trucks
bad to the bone - thats what those moments were to us-
when windshields scattered tears of the sky,
and as much as we laughed we really wanted to cry-
do you remember when you told me that you get scared in thunderstorms
so i always came to see you when it was raining
do you remember? Before i called you baby?
I still wanna be that, and i  am missing it lately
i'm sorry, but i'm sorrier those days escape me.

what gravity, and where has the gravity gone?
when yesterday a new year dawned -
I asked myself this question,pained,
and answered with the things i've done.
I blame myself for our pummelling decline,
though in part, it be yours beside -
i could have, but didn't-and did, but could not have -
many things that made the difference.
And i lay there, wondering if ever i would feel as heavily entwined,
as when first your gravity became mine.
and feared - that never again - should i be tethered -
by the few invisible tines that held me to this mote of dust
I fear free fall, up into the sky.
And all i can do is lay here, and fight the lies, while we cry.

stand by my side as i step into the shadows
come with me into the dark of my life that none know
i need you to live because without you i couldn't
the darkness consumes me and i need you to consume it
a simple smile or laugh draws me into dreams
utopia is truly where you are it seems
your simple presence in my life is enough
i want to just be with you, in dark, in light, in love

The peaceful passing of my soul in silence is what this moment appears to be.Beneath my skin unravels a tale much the opposite.
There the silence is perforated by the echo of my hopelessness.
I am confronted by the possibility that I am losing it.
Not my sanity (though perhaps that is a subject for a different passage).That I am losing my talent.That I am losing my muse.
That the habit upon which i construct nearly my entire identity now threatens evanescence. And here I am, only halfway convinced that these keystrokes are self refuting.They are not devoid of talent. But they do not come in the same feverish manner.
They do not come in unbridled passion
They are beforehand constructed.
They are not solid images or stories, but some vague outlines of more vague impressions.
They are not paintings of the broad colorful strokes of emotions
They feel almost - not quite- cold.
And they feel calculated.
Perhaps i have been guilty of overanalyzation
It is likely.
But also, I am keenly aware that my creation is much more an act of choice these days.
It is much more an act of choice than spontaneity.
I am not taken with the wind, or the trees.
My soul does not overflow, it simply bubbles uneventfully.
I find that when i look for inspiration, it is not there.
I find that I can write about everything equally and subjectively.
I have beliefs, I have passions, yes,but somehow they do not control me.
And I am so used to being controlled.
I have before thought that there was freedom there, or more accuately, i have felt it.
And still that emotion underlies the thoughts that i now have.
It feels as if i am devoid of what i have before held deeply central to my talent as a poet.
But perhaps, this is simply a new era.
It has long been argued and discussed what sort of poetry has value, what sort of poetry is poetry - and i would posit that the answer is all of it.
There is value in the vivid pictures of emotions.
And there is value in the eloquent preservation of the facts of a situation.
Everything between on the vivid spectrum, may in some way be classified as poetry,
and is in some way inherently valuable.
I am not free.
But Neither am I bound.
This is why I am without direction.

sit here, tempt, try lines, smiles and uncertainties,
truth tangled in the question of the why behind the reasons i
understand that you will run and hide away, but understand,
i am uncertain why but i must stay, that i can conceive
not of a single thing that could possibly make me leave you alone
i want to get to know you, break through  the way that you think that you are stone
through the cold, break through all the strangleholds
that tighten tick by tick, inch by neck bruising inch
i want to see you breathe, i want to see you set free
but tonight i feel your pain, and great though it will be
i do not leave.

Happy Valenetine's day...
massacre i mean.

I come to consume!
Do not limit what i come to do !
Let loose!
let me blaze through you!
explode your edges into emptiness!
take away your senses,
burn you senseless,
set your edges on fire.
do not limit me!
do not limit my desire!

I come to make you drown!
knock your feet from under you and drag you down!
Don't tell me how!
beg for it to be now!
be hungry, thirsty!
don't tell me where!
I will do it here!
don't ask me when!
i do it now!

Fire and flood
my spirit led by my blood
i melt away
i wash away
the deep and secret sins i heat
they rise to the top of your skin
i wash them away
again and again
these words i whisper yo you and your kin
speak lovingly, I am calling them in

yup me too.
But of course i can't say that right now.
And even if i did you probably wouldn't ever believe me.
And even if you believed me you probably would begrudge me for it.
So i sit here.
Quiet.
Or mostly so.
And i hate the fact that i can not say THAT.
Of all things so simple.
I love you so. You're gorgeous. I know.
But would you have it, would you hear it?
well of course not. Hell no.
This has thrown a wrench in my mission.
The entire intention i had for our friendship is being dissembled.
In the silence I am reminded of all the sounds of clanging symbols.
If we have not love, what are we?
Well i have it, but i cannot say it.
What does that make me?
A quiet symbol? Or a song more beautiful than anyone could resemble??

evrything looks like a dagger with no hilt and two blades
blade in hand
i reach out
intending to cut
and i do
both me and you

she is a dancer
I am  music
we are at times out of sync
her steps may clash with my beat
her ease may be mismatched to my harshness
but we are by our very essences entwined
I am the sky
she is the sea
I, with my gravity,
draw her to me,
We are together
when we are apart
because against all sense
we are senseless as art
we are like blood
and like veins
we move through each other
we crave
we are like wanderings
and feet, and hearts,
we are so close,
but so far apart

and here i am, and i can't believe this
after all that happened
I said i wouldn't let THIS happen
But it happened
And here i am, I can't believe this
I can't breathe, this
takes my breath away
and when you're in my arms there's no escape
from it
I am helpless
and loving it
and here i am, I can't believe this
I've been dreaming for a month
a dream as real as anything i can touch

I believe it
I'm waking up and you're still here
asleep next to me
here with me in my dreams and reality
And here i am and i believe it

(I never should have believed this)

I thought
"you and i have what she and i lost"
It's not easy
to be sure of what I've got
there is
that sort of
spark
in my chest
not butterflies
but this
this is new...different...
this can take my breath.
It's been far too long and I've been living in my chest
suffocating in blood from the wounds that she left. . .
and for a time i had forgotten you had watched
(buried it more like)
but when i remembered...
that on a day many months ago...you didn't go
when i wanted to
disappear
you held me there...
in your driveway..
almost from third person, i watched my self
break
in YOUR
arms...
you keep telling me i didn't deserve it...
you said it'd be okay

and baby..the irony of that
isn't lost on me today.

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?

only we know it like we do. and its colorful. beautiful  for the colors. but sometimes difficult to keep painting and not be scared of what the next stroke in the masterpiece might look like.
and it looked like you left. But really you just turned left. ANd i had to keep on goin straight. HAd different places to be on different dates. Couldnt buy the tickets to the same train. Couldnt even hop one for free, couldnt keep you, or keep you tied to me. Things were different than that. You've got dreams and i had to see them from a step back. ANd to find my own. I did, and now i'm goin home. So ill buy another ticket, or forget and hop a traind for the mischief, the misadventure. The opportunity to be where others say i shouldnt,  do things in real life that others didnt, or couldnt. its really right where i should be. I get to be a little different. Choose life - choose to be free - even if that means a little or a lot of pain - even if it means poverty. Cant strap anything to myself when im headin down deep. Ill take the shovel and ill leave it at the foot of the tree. I won't dig up roots i will grow them. Far and wide , but still real deep. I'll climb cliffs that people think are too steep.

I thought about breaking the close semblance to silence, but instead i chose to choke my words back and reinforce the lack of violence. This that seems so quiet, is so inside of me as rough as a riot. A riot put down, but not by my conscience. By the concepts of reason, and their obvious relevance

Irony is when you can only come back because you finally left.

Here I am.

little one
huddled, hiding
in that place
i only ever arrive at
by spiraling

why is it that you fear
everything?

come out.
It may hurt.
It may not be safe.
But here
you can uncurl.

eloquently exercise my capacity for speech
shamelessly synchronize, my look, your look, at you, at me
blush to rise up from somewhere deep within
sight to see through the mirrors behind you're hidden
reflect a face, another face, just to hide your own
a sound, a sound you make, from deep inside your soul
it's music rising against a ragged breeze
a bluesy beauty - ragged sound - that brings me to my knees
your soul to mourn its lack of woe?
rejoice instead amidst royalty

my heart aches for you while i wait
for you ive been wishing for a day or two just to
be with you and my heart smiles and my eyes
shine because ive been wishing for a day or two just to be
with you and i dont have to wish because you're
mine and i stopped wishing and stopped dreaming because my
dreams were all coming true i wanted to spend my life with you
always- and i still do and we're still spending and its not ending and i think you
love me too and you're still mine and your eyes shine as your heart smiles as it
entertwines with mine like these lines end betweeen the lines to express what i guess i'm
trying to say is i love you and you love me and i cant believe it but i finally believe that
im awake and one day youll wake up next to me and see- and you'll remember that day i said -i need a ring

i'm writing on the backs of broken dreams
hows and whys echo, they're my screams
you see, it's been weeks, months, and all of these things
your promises, your smiles and all they mean
are so indefinable, yes they're blurred to me
and i want so hard so much to believe
that  with everything you were unsure of
you were still so sure of me
that you just couldn't admit it
that you wouldn't just give up and quit it
that you couldn't believe everything you were saying
that doubting is as easy to you as praying
is becoming hard for me
because when i look up
it's nearly impossible to see a grander plan
its like
my belief in God is nearly as strong as my belief in man
but my belief in how good he is
is shaking, nearly breaking, even making
me indescribably angry
because
if he was good how could he do this to me
how much pain can really have a happy ending
how much must i brave
how close must i come to the point where i would cave
to see the beauty in the blade
i feel cascading through me
leaving a hole so deep
that when i look through it
i don't see thin air, i wish for a bullet
a single one and the gall to use it
the end this, because i'm sick of it
i do not want to just exist
if this for me is all there is
if i among all of these cannot live
oh, but i wish sometimes that i could do it
but every time i indulge in the images i just know it
i am spineless, that i am alive will show it
that ,
and that i keep my promises

we talked of
Collaborations.
Pieces of poets
Put together.
In lines.
You spoke,
and asked
if I would like to.
What could I say
besides
an exhilarated yes.
But one I can’t quite place.
There was…
Some connection there.  
In that moment.
Honestly, I am glad for my uncertainty
In my giddiness’s origin.
And I doubt
One collaboration will be enough
I’ll definitely want more of them.

I looked around for a knife. Remembered that night.
Wanted to forget my promise.  Remembered where the blade was, just out of sight.
resolved to write. fill an empty blank white
with words that might
let me sleep tonight.

I wish
I could
Fix it
Be your prince
You my princess
But i know it's
No use right now
But that doesnt stop me from
wishing, wanting, waiting, hoping, hurting, hating
to make all our promises a reality
for you to stop pretending that youre over this
for things to change but doubting  
that they can
because they haven't
but i can't change it

so many sleepless nights, so many days i fight.
and when the mornings rise, come find the truth in my eyes.

just a few steps away
and by chance our eyes meet
so i smile
and the second it takes for you to look away
for your eyes to fall
to the floor
i swear i see it all

Even if I keep silent, hold the beast back, fail to fan the flames, resist change
There is no stopping the pen in my mind from moving across my metaphysical page
I am writing in my mind, even if I attempt to hold my hand still
And forget the feelings and words
That so seem to have me do their will
“Write me”
“Write me”
When you’re not writing, you’re dying.
The words mock me and yet beg me to do them a kindness
“Pour us out for the world to see”
"Let them come to see you’re not mindless "
And some days it is not the words that I have an aversion to, but the truth that they hold
And so I hold onto them, starve them; hope they die out in the cold
Far reaches of my mind, a place I hope I can manage to fail to find
And others I **** them not out of hate
But for the simple thought
That they all seem to echo an ex-lover’s face
For the thought I sometimes in my mind dare to mutter to her
“You do not deserve to be my inspiration”

And then society started splitting truths like hairs and blurring bold lines into itty bitty discrepancies that make the world go round – only a little bit differently than you would think – they started talking more and meaning less, using words that were meaningless and hiding what they meant from themselves in a massive mess of words that make no sense under the surface – they started running from the truth without even knowing they were moving – they thought they had it in their hands, but turns out it was a trick of the light – the senses that were their only source of inference.

watch me unfold,
from my contortionist dance,
swallowed by sound,
my vision most entranced,
senses overcome,
so that hearing is erased,
every picture detailed,
i remember every trace.
and we rolled over in circles,
and i went graceful through the skies,
surroundings settled into slowness,
as my brain shattered in the whys
for the briefest moment i knew i died,
and i woke,
after seconds,
five?

I am a spectator.

When there is no longer liquid in your chest,
it is then that prayer serves best,
for prayer is lifeblood, akin to water from God,
mixed with your heart, to become a brand new flood,
that feeling may indeed be done at it's best,
and survived, and experienced,
and hell be made to feel like rest.

six things men are eager for ,
even seven things do bring sorrow to hearts,
gain by wicked means,laughter at the sorrow of another,
empty smiles to hide their hearts
fake happiness to eclipse their real sorrow,
wasting time, wasting money,  
even the squandering of the soul

There just isn't a love song that says what I'd sing
There just isn't a melody to match what I mean
when I say
There just aren't words that aren't cliched
There just aren't voices that haven't replayed
It just couldn't be written by a pen low as mine
It just couldn't be written, Though surely I've tried

i kiss you
and with each drop of rain
our outlines melt away
and with each second passing
i realize it's lasting
i realize that we are melding
in a puddle at our feet
that each drop is colored rich
with hues of you and me
that between us there is nothing
that with each place, each time you touch me
your heart sings in soft notes that you love me
and mine screams that i need you
that i love you too
and i never want to lose you
become one in a moment
we own it, no one can ever take it
if there's a problem we'll fix it
forget the word ending
end that kind of thinking
end it
erase the word ending from your vocabulary
replace it with a glorious second reality
and magically
it will disappear
and our fear
the fear that we're not good enough for love
will melt away
into nothing
in the rain
P.s. one day

Spinning,and sinning.
Trying to retreat from a repeat.
I need to be revived but so far only get deeper sleep.  
summer shimmers from a subtle spring.
I cascade into the evergreens.
Their color and my squalor are the only things that never leave .

she still makes my chest burn
but this time it's not warmth, it's fire...

I always care when I am bitter. I always long to see you when it hurts to.
I always fight to the moment i have no more breaths, even when i forget what light is for the clouds above me. Sometimes I stumble when I step, But i always step. I might forget who I am , but it's because I am not who i was. I nearly never say I'm reaching out when i throw out my hand in hopes you'll catch it, but my palms have learned how to fly. I forget yesterday sometimes as soon as the sun sets, But tomorrow is worth it, just like the sun will rise. Love is worth the fight. Love is the only thing that never dies. I only ever wanted violence to keep the peace. I only ever stayed up late to escape sleep/ I only ever tasted fate when i washed your feet. I held a few hearts in my hands before, and i dropped them ,shards of red stained porcelain on the floor. I never was real graceful until you poured me full of grace. I may wear a mask sometimes, but I always long to show you my face, Sometimes i drink something bitter, because to some it's a sweeter taste. I may sit still, because in being slow to anger i win the race. But I'll never give up searching, wandering, and wondering, even if I slow my pace.

I am two fools, I know
For loving and for saying so
I am three fools, even four
For thinking so of two before.

countless emptinesses charactized as virtues
countless directions when we really dont know what to do
abundance of the lack of truth
lack of abundance of much of anything
wells run dry
we are ready
waiting to be filled
pour into us
we will be powerless not to overflow.

If there were ever anything to speak of, anything of value, anything worth desiring, then it shall turn out to not have been dissolvable. And if, on the other hand, it has dissolved, then well, what substance was there beforehand? Perhaps things of worth can change, perhaps they can be caused to shift unfortunately for the worse, but i think the things worth keeping are able to be kept.  Those things which matter most are of a substance incorruptible. It is our deepest desires that are answered by those things which cannot be destroyed. If a thing can be destroyed, it cannot answer our deepest desires. And so i continue on, testing each thing, each moment, to discover not only its substance, but its value. And i find, more commonly than not, that this question will remain until I am transformed into remains myself. And upon that moment, I will know what was worth it, and what time was squandered in seeking things much more frivolous than they appeared. Above all, i will know that life itself was not a thing squandered, for by death it will not be ended, and if by death, then by nothing.

somewhere in the distance
I have flatlined
and i hear wind in the trees outside
I'm lying here and all i can think
is that I'm in a coma (or dead)
somewhere -
sometime else
I hope i get help

You make me sick
What you did to me won't let me go
And I'm just supposed to act
Like i never needed you to take it all back
But you did it
And you didn't
Ever think of what itd make me
You make me sick.

Blood is thicker than water
without water too we die

ANd if we are nothing now,
then we must have never been anything at all.
But if we are something, we are something,
no matter the cost, or the fall.

What today shall come to light?
What shall break and what shall bite?
What shall mend or what shall fall,
what shall rise, and what shall call?
Today will illuminate,
whether it obliterate or masticate,
whether it heal or whether it fly,
whether it fall, or whether it beckon,
in much, today, the light shall reckon.

You don't know where you are?
your former plans loom just like ghosts?
so, who cares? enjoy not knowing to the utmost.
Get lost in the sounds of things you don't know.
reminisce over memories you thought you'd lost in the undertow.
Get swept away in the possibilities, don't forget me, and i'll keep remembering.