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hey looky here i'm
sun-browned & painless
barefoot & shameless
spent several hrs today
on the beach
w/ a girl who prefers to
remain nameless
can not be found in the flesh
For as warm it may be
As soft to your fingers it is
It will lay soft and cold eventually

can not be found in gold
Yes, it never loses its luster
But many coins you need to muster
And no number will fill the gap in your soul

can not be found in others
For the laughs may distract
The facade will crack
And still you will be empty inside

ilusive as it may be
It follows you around
It never left
For within you she rest
Waiting to be awoken
And while the rest might feel great
They serve as nothing but crutches
On your own you must stand
If you are to revel
On the pleasures life offers...

To improve one self
To look on path troded
It´s essence

To know there is more
With hunger jump forth
It´s rushes

To balance the mind
With the desire of the heart
It´s key

And once held in hand
You will understand
That happiness flies like a bird
But behind she left
And the knowledge
That you can get it again...
come & find me
i've left my phone plugged
into the wall because i can't feel
you breathe through your fingertips
and i can't read your lips through emoji
your belly-button doesn't look right shrouded
in 8 mega-pixel dust and i want to touch you instead
of a keyboard on a screen and tell you about my day because
even though it's written doesn't mean it's real meet me offline because
i don't want a five second snapchat victory snapshot of your *****-line
i don't want my silly romantic poetry to be re-grammed on your insta
framed against a picturesque city skyline or a stoic mountain lion
with hashtags and sexting doesn't turn me on like the sound of
your voice i can write you letters until my fingers bleed but
they always arrive seven days late and you never cry
when you cut them open with a knife and i'm not
looking for a pen pal anyway or a friend
instead i seek a mirror with glowing
teeth or an outlet to plug
into and charge
me up
have you left yet?
are you gone?

i miss you.
i love you, koala.

you're free.
wrap your knuckles around the steering wheel & don't look back.
think of me as you drive into a west texas sunset.
shout my name as the thin mountain air puts pressure on your lungs.
stop at traffic lights & expect to be enlightened.
look at the clouds every day. i mean really look.
stop & cry by yourself on the side of the road somewhere.
stare into the fantastic sun & don't blink first.
return light to the world like a universal mirror.
take a bath in a hot mountain spring & learn to breathe underwater.
fly in vulture circles over the deadness of your past.
never stop writing & painting & singing & reading.
turn around & surrender your heart to the void.
take the list you wrote of the things you learned here & burn it for fuel.
cut up that credit card & use a sharp piece as a guitar pick.
laugh at your warped reflection in a rippling pond's surface.
let light dance around you in a lush green valley.
look at life through a thrift store camera lens.
abandon the road before the road abandons you.
go chase a rabbit up a mountain in tennessee.
go nowhere & i'll meet you there someday.
go find your friends on couches & balconies.
talk to strangers every chance you get.
pull them back from the ledges they're on.
hug a quarter million people.
by the time you hit kansas i hope you love it.
by the time you hit asheville i hope you love yourself.
 Sep 2014 Thinking of You
I could put millions of stars in the sky on a perfect July night and I'd still think of you as the view

I wouldn't mind to have all of my little-girl dreams crushed by your fingers that trace my skin so perfectly
 Feb 2014 Thinking of You
I wanted to write something beautiful
But all that came to my mind was your name;

Your nickname with it's lack of syllables
And your full name, a mouthful of letters.

I wanted to do something special for you
But I couldn't think of anything but seeing you smile;

Your beautiful smile with it's disregard for insecurity
And your pretty lips, curved in convexity from your joy.

I wanted to admire something such as art or music with you
But I knew I could never keep my eyes from yours, not long enough to see;

I wanted to explain why I loved you
You asked, and you deserve an answer.

I love you because you inexplicably perplex me at any point of time.
One second I have you all figured out, and the next you are a new novel to read.

I love you because no day with you is the same.
I think I've developed a harmony with you, only for you to change the melody.

I love you because you are you.
And the actual reasons are infinite.
There will never be a time I run out of "why I love you"s.

I Hate These Human Bones,
And The Olive Skin I Wear,
I Hate My Perfect Smile,
And Every Dark Red Hair

I Hate These English Words
Which Run Through My Mind,
And I Hate Every Calendar,
Because It Reminds Me Of Time

I Hate Every Dark Memory
And This Grey Sky Above,
I Hate This Aching Feeling,
Of Needing To Be Loved

I Hate All My Hatred,
For It Makes Me So Blue,
And I Especially Hate My Heart,
Because That Thing Fell For You
Throughout Every Life I've Lived, I've Gained Enough Wisdom To Know This Species Is The Creator's Most Fragile And Faulted Creation.
convincing us we have "followers"
of what
our personality
our religion
our values
our way of life
there is nothing to "like" about inconsistent imperfection, am i right
trying to make each of us gods
before we have thoroughly proved anything to anyone about our worthiness
zero effort needed
I do not miss you in moments,
But rather the lingering space that lies in between them:
The soft "nn" sound preceding "one mississippi"
Falls stagnant as I attempt to count out measurements of my grief.
Your presence is too large to be condensed into the language of time,
Hours and minutes limply droop over each other,
Until nothing is certain besides your existence.
Two mississippi, three mississippi,
I slowly drag out the syllables in a subtle defiance to your untimely exit.
Your time isn't yet over, I've kept you alive,
Pushing air into your crumpled lungs by counting sheep.
The moments in which you fell are recycled here,
Like stale air in a small cement cell,
They propel my time forward the same way they stopped yours.
I do not miss you during desperate sentences full of almost there prose,
But instead during the white space that runs between each line.

Four mississippi, five mississippi.
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