And there are obstacles before me,
But I oh so love the challenge,
And while I burn with a fever,
It is the fire that fuels my passions.

I walk along the vaulting cliffs,
My mind is open, a clear horizon,
In passing breeze, I smell her hair,
I must get home, dark clouds arriving.

The world is a war.
Children can't even play outside anymore.
Bullets fall down as easily as rain,
as fathers and mothers weep from the pain.
No more midnight movies,
or school day fun.
No more trips to the city,
to go on a run.
Bombs blow smoke clouds up in the air,
filling the air with such a despair.
The ground splattered blood red
and Nike Free blue.
Lunch halls with bullet holes
and soaked with spilled juice.
And the playground goes quiet,
just ghosts on the swings.
Not old enough to know what happened,
never even seeing sixteen.
And if you wonder why I worry,
and always want you safe..
It's stories like these,
that really make me pray.

I want to read you,
run my fingers across you
like you are braille and your body is my book.
I do not know you,
but i want to see you, through your skin,
I want to feel your past memories imprinted
on your muscles,
and read them, as i spread your arms apart, like the pages on a well worn book.
I want to sound out the names of the stars,
from behind your back,
whilst running my fingers down the vertabrae of
your spine, counting each one.
I want to feel the creases of your mouth
as you tell me about your day,
and the laughter
and the pain in the creases
in your eyes.
I want to hook my fingers around your ribs,
and read about your heartbeat's
daily news, and stroke the bruises
left there in.
I want to stoke the coals in your *****,
like i am reading a book by the fire,
and i am immersed in you
so badly,
nothing can distract me,
from you.
I want to read you,
with my body,
with my fingertips, and my lips,
and my eyelashes,
and legs,
I want to delve in,
to,
you.
You are the story of my life,
there are the words of my future,
knitted together in the palms of your hands,
in the corners of your smile,
and the pool of your iris.
You are my never-ending book,
I can't wait to open,
sit down and read.

halfway to infinity,
three quarters 'round the sun,
one of the many things she said to me
after she was gone
she said that's where you'll find me, love,
and breathed a slow slow smoke
halfway to infinity,
love, that's where i'll be
and with her words
her strange, strange words
she only could confuse me
and her charcoal lips would smile
as she said such strange and unreal things
yet paradoxically wrong, they sounded
or maybe halfway right.
right, i'd say, and where is that,
halfway round the sun and moon?
you'll find it someday, silly love,
but i can't tell you how.

halfway to infinity, she said,
three quarters round the sun,
i wish i knew what she meant by that
for now she's dead and gone