We are constantly put into a position that makes time relative.
Forced to face the future every step of the way.
Every current thought clouded with the judgment of the future.
How will this affect my future?
What will this decision in this moment be in the future?
That is why we envy those carefree spirits.
Who only base their decisions on this pseudo principle
We call the present.
We taunt them and their “reckless” behavior
As thoughts like theirs have no place in this world
Which refuses to see the beauty in a place where time seems to stop.
Their actions do not crave the approval of the future they crave the
excitement of the present which we ignore to the point  
we don't even speak of her.
It is as if she fails to exist on this plane that we are currently in.
When the future holds no promise what is it that drives us towards it
Why do we long to be there?
While refusing to acknowledge that we are the small dialogue between the past and future.
The only this that can be actually accounted for in this moment.
Where time is but a unit of measurement used to guide you.
To make you forget.
Life is happening to you right now
In the present
With you as the placeholder.
You are the person who winds the clock
So why do we kneel to it every day?
Constantly moving forward helps one forget the struggles of right now.
Having one's mind pressed on the future allows for the pains of the
present to fade.

The sky...

A canvas of blue
as I climb up
-on the roof
laying beside you
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
I counted more-
than one to ten,
dreaming of oriels
till all is well

Up a Hill...

Were I gaze
towers of cupola,
a heavens place
were we dreamed,
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
To Venus, to Mars
of dancing stars
a wishful reverie,
circling above thee

Then I blink...

Twice to think,
and opened freely
seeing all of You
in tangled vines
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Coasting up above
loosing mimes,
an aurora night
on New York's sky

Time traveled...

As eyes passes-
to were it humbled
on fountain trails
and bluish vales
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Horizon unwinds
hands that bind
etude punctuates
'twas a circa of mine

Morning rung...

A fadeless runic,
I fell out of flung
following sheets
my bedding's reap
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
A story unsung
lips were unkissed
wondering why
Love was not found

playing games with these things
creating perfect images
of me.
this body such a fickle object
a sight to be seen
hey even the moon has her seams.
but continues to shine bright
as any star ive ever seen.
but judgement is the only energy
that is passing.
when you look at me
what exactly are you examining?
there are literally 1,000,000 women
whom as beautiful as me.
at this rate you'll spend your whole life
looking up to
Queens.
which is fine with me.

searching for the words to say.
you know those
that chase thoughts away
that force the confidence
that I have in these words
to dissipate.
I love you.
seems so easy.
but in the past have been the catalyst
causing the whole thing to go aray.
those words which carry so much depth
yet hold not enough weight.
to convey what I'm actually trying to say.
I love you.
but I don't mean it that way.
your thoughts
your being
the way your hips sway
all have broken the walls I have built
until this day.
I love you.
but makes the words so hard to say
to your face.