We need the tonic of wilderness
the land and sea. Indefinitely wild.
Unsurveyed and unfathomed.
A taste of beautiful cultivated outdoors

I wanted to live deep
and **** the marrow out of life
but we loiter in the winter
while it is already spring

The surface of the Earth
soft and impressable
carving deep
ruts of tradition and conformity

I’d rather go before the mast
on deck of the world.
Mysterious and explorable
amid the moonlight and mountains.

As I sit and write,
I glance down the aisle,
all my friends,
from the best to the vile,
we all relax in our seats,
awaiting for our arrival,
all chattering to each other,
even if their a rival,
see, it’s not the destination that matters,
I don’t even know where we’re going,
it’s about spending time together,
and there’s something worth knowing,

that we’re taking a bus ride,
and it’s by the journey that we’re defined

Lathered in Varnish
and coated in stain
the fades are all gone
without any blame

Thirst quenched with
the deep red wine
and stomach filled
with the taste of rye

I'll go through wear
and tear as I walk this Earth
until the next date
of my soul's rebirth

Because the world is sandpaper
stripping away
and my soul needs varnishing
to cover my shame

Stop fogging up my lenses
and stealing all my first impressions

you have lost all validity
and stolen all tranquility

let me see people
without your veil of lies

don't worry,
I can come to my own conclusions

White.
The world is white.
It is full of different shades of white.
Is the world white?
Some days I feel as though the world is black, but that may just be the darkest shade of white.
Black.
I know the world has dark days, but that is all they are.
Days.
Twenty-four hours pass and the world transforms into grey.
Grey is a color of the new world that will replace the old.
A dingy, broken place becomes just a little bit brighter.
I know someday this world will be such a light grey, it will once again return to its former glory.
When that day arrives we can only hope the changing world has changed us as well to a new color.
The color of a blank slate.
The color of hope.
White.

A single step
can be safer than the next
or the last.

The snow covers
a delicate layer of ice.
From a far,
no one would know
what lies beneath.
Just a quiet, white field,
of freshly fallen snow.

I like the way
the ice crackles
right under my boots
just before it breaks.

At that time,
the thrill is harmless.
Merely those small,
spider web cracks.
Intruding in it's
perfect crystal floor.

But as soon as that ice
folds from under me,
I am surrounded by
a world of water
and its heavy.
Dragging me down,
to cold to handle.

Why do I chose
to walk on the ice?

I sat on your lap
while we chewed pink bubblegum.
I knew you didn't like it,
but you assured me you did.

We blew bubbles
until I knew how.
Over and over.
I made you laugh
so hard you cried.

My little arms
were wrapped tight around your neck.
I laid my head on your chest,
and I still remember
your perfect, sweet smell.

I yawned,
you stroked my head.
And you told me,
"Time to spit out the bubblegum,
and get some rest."

You carried me on your hip
up to my bed.
Although that night
all we did was chew bubblegum,
it was a night well spent.