A belief is a sweet dream.
An unconscious stream.  

It tucks the corners of your bed.
A place to put all your dread.

Covers you in white linen.
Keeps your naiveness winnen.

Casts you away into a sleepful estate.
No longer shall you await.

A sweet escape from the truth.
A kiss of ignorance coming through.

Gives you faith in something.
Even if it’s a hopeful nothing.

The sound of the ending cue.
It’s colored in a grey hue.

No battle left to bellow.
Footsteps that use to echo.

Words that have already been spoke.
All that tears that have already soaked.

A surrender to the closing.
No longer are we apposing.

A welcome to the end.
There is nothing left to mend.

It’s been a long time since my heart has soared.
The days flickering by.
Rolling through the channels trying to find something new.
Alan Watts plays in the back-screaming LIFE.
My girlfriend says, "baby, just get in the car."
Sitting in the passenger seat heading to wherever next.
Your face shines through rear view mirror.
A smirk of goodbye.
******* out to the sky.
Screaming, “what is life after this?”
Holding onto eachother like there’s no life left to grasp.
This is my sign that life does get better after this.
The world is closed but our hearts open in a 24-hour vacancy.
She says, “do you remember when we first met?”
Apple blossoms and moon shine between her lips.
A taste of something I miss.
Her red stained lips traced the rim of her cup.
Yelling at the bar “I just can’t get enough”.
Her foot stomping at the bar stool.
Just one more song please.
Just one more dance.
Just one more moment.
& we keep grasping for those old moments.
A reminder to us that life is our last call.

We live in days where truth prevails second.
You no longer have to be right.
Just need to be the most convincing.

I get paid by the hour.
Counting time by all the dollars.

Trading my life with every transaction.
Trying to catch my life before it loses traction.

All that my life is the seconds that descent.
How much money until my life is spent?

Christmas music echoes off the walls.
Apple cinnamon candles fills the halls.

A mistletoe for every absent kiss.
To remember those who we miss.  

A memoir to commemorate the old days.
The way to honor our ancestral ways.

Traditions pay homage to those who have passed.
To let them know our love will out last.