there is room to spare
and food aplenty
why stash

the walking photographic faces
mean something beyond thinking
while all dog owners should walk their dogs
at least once a day I tried to speak a foreign language
filling in the time between birth and dying
and all the while someone was following
and taking photos of themselves and flowers
I stooped to pick up a newspaper blowing in the wind
as sung by Bob Dylan in his younger days and read my horoscope

I wear a ring of black upon my finger,
It’s always there to remind me

As the darkness descends around me,
And around you,
Time ticks by and I’m wondering,
What to do,
Without you,
And I’m all alone here waiting,
I still wait for you,
For you

I wear a ring of black on my finger,
It’s always there to remind me,
That I must always remember,
To close my eyes if I want to see

This emptiness takes hold where you should be,
With me,
Days go by and still I try to see,
You with me,
I’ll lock myself away and wait,
Wait for you,
For you

I wear a ring of black on my finger,
It’s always there to remind me,
That I must always remember,
To close my eyes if I want to see
To see but not hear your pleas,
Because I know I can do more

I will stop at nothing,
To bring you back to me,
I will stop at nothing,
I wasn’t ready for you to leave,
No, I will stop at nothing,
To bring you back to life and by my side the way it should always be

I wear a ring of black upon my finger,
It’s always there to remind me,
That I must always remember,
To close my eyes if I want to see,
To see but not hear your pleas,
Because I know I can do more,
Death is just a disease,
Every disease must have a cure

Walk with me - foot to foot
like mirrors gleam across the Earth

Press on me - I will too
Together we'll ascend to truth

Lovers of gravity
Will feel the pull from all sides meet

Of all the tasks our God has blessed
Poets rejoice in those of ***
To rip the heart from a beating chest
Cast it forth - and sayeth 'fetch'

you are not my sky
not my moon
not my air
the smile on your face
is not my sun
and i am not its planet
your freckles are not stars
scattered across the night sky
you are a person
not a sky
you aren't limitless
your being does not surround
my whole world

you are not
my world

I’m feeling right as rain on a window pane in a war of attrition,
And I love how the rain beats me into submission,
And I hate how I’m always in need of some reason for a division,
That riddle of forever being cut down and somehow risen up in the middle

Circumnavigate the delusional oceans of my mind,
And I love that place between being dead and alive,
And I hate how I’m there and yet still to arrive,
That riddle of being lost and found by being stuck in the middle

To be a fly on that flower on the wall,
And I love to see how it feels to be left out of it all,
And I hate to be unable to fall,
That riddle of asking “How?” and not “Why?” that comes with being trapped in the middle

I’ve written this part,
For what feels the millionth time,
I can only resign.
The scars upon my hands,
Connecting teeth-marks
The guilt within my heart,
That’s where the sickness starts,
That riddle of being sick and yet unable to survive without lingering in the middle

To be a Superman is so **** superficial,
Superb superstition feels so insuperable,
Juxtaposition in a definition of terms makes the Super seem just simple and little,
That riddle of being everything and nothing that is superimposed in the void of the middle

And I love how I’m here all alone in the middle,
And I hate how I’m here all alone in the middle