In the quiet
I hear the mumbling sounds of muffled words
The voices of strangers
Not close enough to understand
But the vibration
The tinkering richness that comes from spoken word
Flicker across the drum
Quick
Like sounds of life outside a car window
It vanishes
He hears it too, shooting off
A rocket across the bed
His soul green eyes flinging off the light of headlights
Ears stretched wide
It comes again
My mind straightens up
The body ridged..
Hoping to hear that mad sound again
Wanting it to make sense
Like so many t.v. shows
Debunk the mystery..
It does not return..and only the goose flesh
Plus the sentry movement of yet another feline convinces me it was real..

I always write in pen.
If I were to write in pencil,
My words would be artificial.
Edited and overthought so much that they were no longer my words.
And some things are better left unedited.
Left as the things I did not think,
But felt.

I write best when I'm sad.
Maybe because I'm being more honest with myself in these moments.
But I think about everything.
About how many seconds it takes for air to consume every inch of my lungs.
About why raindrops fall together but are always seperate drops.
About how the weather can change a person.
About how many colors we have yet to experience.
But I cannot say I hate being sad.
Sometimes it gives me peace.
Because being sad is better than feeling nothing.
And most days I wouldn't flinch at a knife in my lungs.

On the head-tops

Butter softens and melts
And slides around the body
And slips between live slices
To internal organs

And in a gentle
Somersault

Hearts revolve and redden-
Arteries untangle and the
Pump beats
Tattoos

O the song of the soul
Breaks into a thousand
And one
Butterflies.

Infinite drumming of wings
Transforms tattoo to
Martial march,

The stomp of boots on cencrete,
War, boys, war,

Joy of young man and
Weapon,

Chaos unleashed by the old and
Impotent

Sometimes I think I'm in a nightmare
And I'll wake up next to you
And all of this will be over

But you're never in my bed when I wake
Only sleeping in my mind
Tucked away behind where regret and jealousy collide
Melancholy blankets cover your soft skin
Tender cheeks kissed by my disappointment
My depression plays with your hair
And anxiety massages your back

And when you do wake
You exit my eyes as tears
But somehow
You always find your way back to your bed

Let me fly above the clouds,
Let me swim in depth of the oceans,
Let me roam in deepest of the forests,
Only wish me luck and see me thrive…

Hold my hand in hard times,
Let me hold yours in good ones,
Walk with me on this road, called Life,
To a place you desire…

A day will come,
Our paths will diverge,
But only to converge again,
And then I will find me again,
And this is what, I live believing…

You who goes by "Lonely"
Yes you, who reads these rhymes
Please pause here for a moment
I won't take much of your time

You see my friend, I'm lonely too
In the dark with paper and pen
So I'm writing you this poem
and signing it "Your Friend"

Though I'll prob'ly never see you
nor ever know your name
I do not need to see your face
nor know your cash and fame

I do not care what color you are
how short or tall or fat
I'm weary of all these parties and creeds
So, for a moment, forget all of that

Yes you, dear friend, forget with me
Inhale this moment serene
where we are not opinions or castes
Just two humans with two glowing screens

Be human with me, simple and pure
For a moment breathe deep and feel free
then should you have the time, and a halfway good rhyme
Perhaps write a poem for me.

Signed,
Your Friend