I want to write poetry on every inch of the world
and I don't care if the ocean washes it out of the sand
Or if it melts from the snow and trickles down into the streets
I don't care if the rain smears it all over the pavement
Or if the paper is folded so many times
it can hardly be read
I want to write poetry on every inch of the world

And I want to laugh
Even when I'm all alone,
with no one to hear me
Even in the pit at a packed show,
where the music is sure to hide it
I want to laugh so lightly in your arms,
you can't make out the sound
I just want to laugh

And I want to cry
With my car parked
In the back of an abandoned parking lot,
Six o'clock on a Saturday morning
Dim shades of light swallowing
the stars and the heat on high
I want to cry because
you're here with me
And I want to cry because
there's so much to be seen
in such a short life
But we still stop to
look into each other's eyes
Over and over and over again
And if that isn't beautiful,
I'm not sure what is

I hold my arms out to catch
people even when they're falling
far & fast... even when I know the
impact is going to crush me inside
and out, I stand here anyway

And I love people even when
they're filled completely with pain...
even when there's so much, it's pouring
out from their edges & washing over me...
even when I know I'll drown in
their waves, I can't move from this spot

he sang beautifully until he began
to scream; i slept peacefully
until the nightmares set in
he had the vastness of a constellation
& i had the willpower of a telescope
i thought if i connected his veins
with the tip of my finger,
we'd learn to find each other
so i followed his voice every time
it trailed off but i always got lost
somewhere between what was
said and the reasons why
i studied the patterns in his
palms; he fell asleep in my arms
the desire to understand the
apathy in his eyes
was not the same as
the desire to love his insides

We're caught somewhere between
falling in love with ourselves
and wishing we were someone else