Scanning the landscape
Breathtaking aerial view
Soaring above, higher
Regal wingspan
Dreams are made of this
Flight of fancy
Living the dream
Born feeble
Yet, soars higher
Dodging the clouds
And kissing the blue
Formations so exquisite
Across the ether  
Wish I had
Wings to fly

Along the corridors
Of oblivion
Footsteps are not heard
Voices are stifled
Presence, like an apparition
Seen through
Glares of the outside world
Creates an inferno
Only ashes, of your times
Even the clock’s hands
Are too hot to touch
Pushed into oblivion
Crushed by fate
Only you and yourself
Not one hand
To pull you toward the future
From the present
Odd predicament

I watched you play Mr. Bones
with guitar and whisky breath.
and i thought
david brin wrote a book about you,
somewhere far in dark space.
where i heard you
calling out to me still
will there ever be a time
when you won't have to be my muse

The way the light hit her face from across the small amount of distance between us was almost heavenly.
Not because of the way the light reflected off of her, but because of what her face reflected-
absolute beauty.
It radiated off of her and made me wish that although we could see each others faces,
the distance between us was not divided by two screens.
It made me feel as though this room was a prison
and the picture that I saw was my window to daylight.
Her face makes me fall more in love with the world.
And every starry night I see,
every flower I smell,
and every summer breeze I feel
can never compare to her.