I clutch my spiral ring notebook
Close to my pounding chest
I flinch with every glancing look
My thoughts do not rest
With cold hard stares
Their eyes drill into my head
I sit here among the savage bears
I sit on my death bed
I make sure the sheets are nice and neat
I write endlessly in my notebook
I flow my fears into it and steady my heart beat
I ramble like an endless brook

You were once everything;
I breathed, lived,
died, and lied
for you.
Now, we know naught of this;
but, sometimes, when the sun sets
below the horizon,
and the moon wanes high
in the sky,
and I lay alone,
without you,
I return to this.
I return to this which we know
naught of now;
I return to this which we once had.
And I cry,
alone,
for you.

Noise seeps in through the cracks
in my fragile mind;
mixed chatter in cahoots with childish laughter
ignite a migraine (of sorts).
They know nothing but this.

Back and forth,
side-to-side;
moving in constant motion,
trying to decide.
"Well," I think,
"Which way to go?"
Go?

Grass flutters in the wind,
water droplets sparkle and glimmer
in the sunlight;
"Well," I say,
"I think I'll stay right here."

The tides mesmerize,
as the sand, soft and warm beneath my feet,
never ceases to amaze me.
For miles and miles, in every direction,
I can now see;
north, south, east, and west.
A gull yuccas in the sky
as I lie back in that soft, warm sand;
and in that moment,
I am free.

Droplets fall straight from the heavens,
women, covering their heads
as they seek shelter,
running to and fro.

A deep rumble emanates,
shaking the Earth and my soul as well.
she caught my attention on that very day,
during that very storm.
Sopping wet, with hair entangled,
what a sight, I must say!
Regardless of her condition,
I found beauty on that very day.

The downpour continues,
never hinting to decease;
my love for her is like that storm,
raging like a beast.

"Good morning, beautiful."
Words like a soft autumn breeze,
caressing, chilling to the touch;
three simple words to form one
complex ecosystem,
teeming with life,
droning with emotion.
I catch a glimpse of a bird,
a distant memory,
a sample of a sound I've heard before,
calming and pleasant.

You show me your world,
catchy pop rhythms,
smiles and childish laughter;
I long for something more,
something different,
something that cannot be described
in words or song.
I know from the beginning
that this cannot be.

I show you my world;
you catch a glimpse through
the twilight gloom,
amongst distant thunderheads.
You can see, in the distance,
a vast, colorless landscape.
Mountains that disappear into the heavens,
endless plains outstretched into oblivion;
this is my world, you see?
This is me.

Your sweetness can be topped,
somewhat, with a cherry;
an ice cream sundae dripping with
warm fudge and decadent condiments.
But this is not me, you see?
This cannot be.

Your lips move,
contracting and contorting around
syllables and vowels;
your lips move and
the words are inaudible,
concealed by the deafening roar,
ever so clear,
that rings like a bell
in my ears.

The white light seeps in through the curtains,
of this dream, I am certain.
It's not so bad to be alone,
It's not so bad to be able to hone
those skills with which I have done naught,
but it's something that I have always sought.
I can see clearly now,
I no longer have to bow,
this white light guides me,
though I do not know how.

A dream that I am flying,
a dream that I'm not lying;
touching all the clouds,
hesitantly, I shroud
those things that mean so much;
hesitantly, I shroud
and I am feeble to your touch.

I hear the bells in the distance,
I am there in an instant.
The white light seeps in through the curtains,
of this dream, I am certain.