Stand in an open field and
tear out
the pages of your favourite book
and leave them
to the wind.

Underline the words for people to
find and read and
love
and leave you to wonder if they
noticed them at all.

The engine's warm now that we're finally off all the main streets,
and sitting in the polished seats of our smooth white metal stallion
we strolled down the slickened scenic highway, silhouetted by the sun beams turned silver
bouncing off the cold bold face of a spherical moon.
The radio licks its numbered teeth back and forth with its spike red tongue
as the knobs are turned to tune and turn up high to hear,
those greats croon
"don't worry babe, we'll be there soon".
My foot falls heavy like a rejected lover when we hit the strait aways
and the wind cant move my whop slick hair on this bright night
can't move it for a **** thing
even with the top down and the whole world spinning against us.
I race to stay within the nights dark complexion
watching out for the only man who can slow me down
pink faced clown lookin to shout "bookim"
"Bookim danno".
My hands wrap white knuckled around the steering wheel
and I chuckle at the frightened look that begins to build up in your gorgeous hazel eyes
when adrenaline filled i swing wide left
to pass the only other car
on this rickety two lane highway.
Back on our side of those magical golden lines
I reach over to settle your shaking thighs
and you grab my arm like it alone could save you.
I picture us
hydroplaning off into a deadly roll through that golden field of wheat
the last thing I would smell would be dirt, dew, fresh spring ground
I smile at the thought
whatever makes you feel better I say
and so you squeeze tighter.
I slip my hand down and off your leg,
up onto the dash
to find and twist the radio ****, blasting out that sweet silky serenade of sleep walking.
I look over and blow a kiss,
but the wind ***** it out the back before it ever reaches your loving lips
and with eyes back on the road I keep on till morning.
Till I can stop with you at sunrise,
and we can rest
and hold hands
and share lips
and tell empty promises, as day breaks on the horizon
and light floods over us
in this stolen drop top caddilac.

What can I confess? I love her and that will never change.
I've tried. Nothing works. There is no way to push it out.
It will not be defeated. It is an unbeatable love. An immovable force.
It will not be controlled, it cannot be told where to go.
It simply is, and will never cease to be.

Rest cannot be obtained by mere sleep.
Refuge is a distant memory.
Your steps become nothing more than the distance between you and her.
Everything is her. Nothing is not about her.
Laughter is only a reminder of the type of innocent happiness you feel
When she's standing next to you.
Smiling faces are always a prelude to the glowing memory of hers.
No thought is had that isn't in some way connected to her.

The sun seems dim in comparison to the fire this love embodies.
It is otherworldly. It is unfathomable.
It is that brightness which cannot be perceived with the eyes or
Conceived in the body, but merely felt with the soul.
You see it more clearly through the amplification of tears,
Behind the cracks of the heart.

You work. You play. You sleep. You eat.
And nothing fulfills. Nothing satisfies the soul.

Your future is behind you.
And she stands there, grinning, waiting on you to remember her, reminding  you to forget.

But I will not give up on her. It is not in me to let go of this love.

Our destiny is written in the stars. Our happy ending imprinted in my heart.

One thing is sure, there is no doubt,
  this is your life, and life's about
The love you give, the lives you change,
  the world around you re-arranged;
And you'll do well to not forget --
  life changes not, but you change it.
So open wide your eyes to see
  it's all for you! Now just believe.

His home is an orphanage
in downtown Belize.
Triple-decker bunk beds
topped with ***** stained mattresses
fill each room.
An abandoned 10 year old
lies paralyzed on the floor;
"Don't touch him. Nobody ever touches him."
A small child covered in sores
sleeps in a puddle of his own *****.

I offer a container of pink Play-dough to a boy
who proceeds to sculpt me
changing the pink to brown
with his ***** hands.
When he is done,
it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
"What is your name?"
"I'm Allen"
He tells me about his dreams of leaving Belize
and becoming a U.S. soldier.
He tells me of how his mother,
a **** addict,
dropped him off at the doorstep when he was 8 years old
and how he remembers
the look of fear and disappointment in her eyes
every time she looked at him
and saw his father.
His favorite color is blue.
Together, we make bracelets with colorful beads,
and as I stand to leave
he hands me a pinkish-brown heart
warm and sweaty
from his ***** hands.
And in return
I hand Allen,
and every child like him,
my own heart
red and ******,
dedicated and passionate,
foolishly and hopefully attempting
to change the world.

i imagine
it's morning
that wonderful time
where you aren't really awake
but you know you aren't dreaming anymore
where everything's a bit blurred
and only the important things are
impeccably clear

i imagine
that on this morning
the blinds are closed or open
i can't tell
everything's a haze
the cat's probably asleep by our feet
the sheets might be orange
they might be red
but your eyes
they're crystal clear
that wonderful light green
so different from the seas of brown i'm used to
then that little smirk
that's always on your face
those lips
those collar bones

i imagine
that in this moment
the little infinity signs
i've traced a thousand times
are real
tattooed onto your chest
the smirk is only a smile
for me
those eyes are only crystal clear
because they're staring right into my eyes
and those lips are mine for the taking

i imagine
that this morning
is real
that is lasts forever
that it will happen one day
it's times like these
that i imagine
you're mine
all the ******* time.