he came from a small asteroid
and learned so much more from this big messy world
than those who have lived in it

how does he do
when we have to face hours without sunsets
and fall apart in the night

how he does
when we make ourselves the strangers he saw
and pretend the world we share is our own, only planet

how he has done
when we would rather throw our rose's glass case
to the floor
when we remember her thorns on our skin
and complain about the shards of our own doing

he has the innocence to believe the sheep was in the box
we would freak in our bigotry that there is only the box
and nothing within

he is an alien
and so were we
we covet his life
for we in our humanity
effort to strive to his simple omniscience
the opposites to our situations
our own baobab trees
growing within us

and i wonder
why was the price he took
to go home
what is the price we pay
to make ours
to return to ours
to be us

shine like star,
you meteor, ephemeral

i must need to leash my sheep

i saw upon the sunrise the smiles of a happy day, among faces half asleep

who's smiles of relief for a new day is darkened by the realization of a tiring one

yet i saw the children

who sees outside the bus window only the beauty of splendor
the beauty of the sky in its easiest to be stared

i wonder how they smile, and how we dont

they speak to me more than the crowd's launguishing wait for their next ride to tiredness

their faces says, smile, because we can

smile for the memories of people who forget

smile for the happiness in a world full of frowns

smile because you can, and it is better than nothing

better than saying, i am to be tired

better to say, i will tire myself with a smile

i smile because it is okay to be in this world

i smile because it is okay to face sadness

i smile because we want happiness, and the smallest smile can be the happiness of lifetimes

smile because it is beautiful, and it is best to be beautiful with the sky

smile because you can

smile because you should

smile because it is okay

the sight of the Theeman Hotel strikes within him awe, as high as it's thousand leagues onto the sky

and the emergence of the slime mold in her rotting log, strikes her with ease

they live two seperate lives, in sameness

but with him, he has given to the city

and her, the forest

he lets go of a plume of smoke, resting besides a digiphone booth, before another construction shift

and she meditates under the trees, wondering the same wondering as him

memories, what are memories

he sees no other memories but the crust of the city life bared onto iridium concrete

and she is aware that the trees learn and remember, and only onto death do they reveal their nostalgia

the cities tower alight with the memories of nothingness

while the woods tower with memories forged from nothing

and he sees the growth of the world made by it's starers

and she sees the eyeless grow towards a fire in the sky

what would be the world we would have made if we didnt remember

a dinge heap of a city, or an austere forest

unaware of the memories piled around us

but beauty forged among its thick, for true eyes to see a crowd of makers

he returns to his post redirecting an endless traffic

and she tends to her fruits in a life full of new

it has been a while since i've touched pages

for my mind has been busy with the matters of flesh, not of the wind against a face staring at the passing world in its nicer sunsets

i take two akidins every day to survive

my survival linked directly to a happiness craved by my flesh

my flesh that needs to get up, needs to eat

but for you tonight, i opened plath again

my mind, my art, my love, i am reading again

and i felt alive, in my struggle to understand her

and i opened gibran again to see where i left off

where my bookmark of your photo marks my favorite of his prayers

could it have been that i really was alive back then

that i had love, and toil, and music, and words

filling up a mind that understands

a mind now struggling to stare at golden hours

after waking up on dark ones

if only, i keep hoping

if only i was a third of who i was

capable of everything, everywhere, at the same time

knowing what summer clouds sounds like, what paintings smell like, what sleep looked within palpable dreams

could it be, i can return

could it be, a mind that wishes for what once was, can be well once again

could it be, it only takes memory to know where rock bottom is

my love, i missed you dearly
i whisper in solemn prayer

i can love you once again, with music, art, poetry

eye, and ear, and subconscious

i've missed you dearly, and i love you for staying

the day will come that my love for you comes from a complete me

my newest boomark for ariel is an empty biperiden pill page

and gibran will keep your beauty, in page 21

here is to you, and the letters of sanity

i understand

I DON'T UNDERSTAND

what is with you, you've been here before
you've been well and you've been unwell, but you got yourself out

no, you got yourself out. i'm still me

you're still you. we're still him

it doesn't make sense. he's changed. now he's us

it is. its not like we had a choice.

i know we did. i know i should have resisted going in him

i know you didn't. i know, because i am here. remember who you are, what he is.

i am tiredness.

and i am the devil. what now

we did nothing wrong, right?

i... don't know. i don't know what he's doing. whether its us, or him, or you, or him

okay, what is it now

...

...

he stepped on a ****

ach, is that really it

yes, and now we're here. tiredness, and the mad innate sense to ruin everything. there is blood rushing into his legs

we don't have to do this

i don't want to do this

what are we to do

what have we done before

what have we not

we havent tried stopping lately.

it doesn't seem so bitter when i look at it, the sky
after it was so angry that it blotted out the sun for an eternal three hour six o clock
it wasn't really that bitter when your droplets landed on my head
it wasn't bitter when the cold of the wind blew my umbrella away

i look at you know and think
you've been through so much
just to be angry where i'm at
you didn't have to take it out on us
i know you just had to
i know it's alright
i know it'll happen again

but i look at the trail of cirrus above your wake
and i see they are tinted pink and orange
i see that they are yours
they are your soft fingers on my blue
and my calm after everything

you are telling me
it is okay
to feel this cold
to let go of the weight of our nature
it is past day
and you left us with your spirit in the sky
making the sun beautiful

and you are showing me
that i could still love you
that perhaps
what happens after
could still put us to ease.

you swear to me
and curse at me
when time came and went and i fed your lands

and time came and you hit me with your burning pitchforks
how dare

well then, it serves you right
to reap what you sow
you planted your soot seeds on my clouds
and your harvest is fire

and burnt soil
and flooded homes
why would you complain about my absence
on the forests you ruined

it serves you right
i am the rain, and with me is my temper
it singes when i'm gone
it ruins when i arrive

and don't you complain
it serves you right
i am the rain
i do not take kind to those
who demand the sun