I know it when I look at you
I’m stirring in your sky
thunderbolts rise up within
telling us to come inside

I feel the wind whip up again
to drowned out all the chaff
scare the flooded fields of crow
lightning deep in us to crash

I built this bed for us by hand
back when those oaks fell
it washed out all the roads to you
rain soaked sheets of skin avail

I’m not what you want to want
you look amazing in afraid
I will hold you tight this time
enough to feel your windows shake

I wish that we could try again
but I will get you back to town
wait and dry out here for you
pray your storm comes back around

I hope you're okay. I hope you love what you're doing right now. I hope that you always make art. Not the stereotypical art of drawing, painting, sculpting, etc. but the art of drowning yourself in science or mathematics, the art of letting go of negativity, the art of breaking the rules, the art of reaching nirvana, the art of letting yourself get lost in the moment or just about anything that is considered art (if it's not but you love it and it makes you feel good, call it art). I hope that when you do something, you do it for yourself first. I hope that when you write about love you're thinking about yourself. I hope that when someone asks you to list down the things you love, you write your name first. I hope that when you find yourself crying, you look at yourself in the mirror and realize that tears don't suit your face. I hope that you always eat on time and don't forget about drinking water. I hope you read lots and lots of books. I hope you're always thinking about the world and its people and how it's still beautiful despite of the happenings right now. I hope you learn to say "no" to people when you need to and be firm about it. I hope you're happy and contented with your life. I hope that when you're in a dark dark place, you're not afraid to call your mom or your dad or even a friend to tell them what's going on (believe me, you can trust them to understand your place right now and never leave you). I hope that when you see people passing by, you see their story first before their faces. I hope that when you make something beautiful, you learn how to destroy it to make something more beautiful. I hope that every day is the best day of your life. Finally, I hope that you receive the warmest hugs, kisses and love from the people that matter to you and loves you back unconditionally.

F. Scott Fitzgerald said, "For what it's worth: it's never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start over." So live your life with an open mind and an open heart and when the going gets tough, take a moment to rest but don't ever give up. You can do anything. You're here to do it.

With hopes to see you living life to the fullest,
Sam

Mothers crawl home on all fours
and fathers crack their hammers
into the temples of the moon.

The dogs are long gone.

The children of catastrophe
flick their knives at the sun,

shuffling from ruin to ruin
in their parents’ heavy boots,

stepping over the skeletons
of buildings and hummingbirds.

The children of catastrophe whet
their blades on the skulls of childhood.

They shave their heads
and argue about the history
of chandeliers and ballrooms.

The frogs at the water’s edge
expand into dumb balloons.

Hunted by an army of hollow men,
we race toward the sound of a dog
barking at the edge of the world.

We sleep in shifts,
cursing moonlight.

In our dreams,
the horizon binds us
with a blinding flash—

your hand in mine,
our cells married
and incandescent:

each to each,
ash to ash.

Classes start today; summer's met its end,
The books lie waiting once again upon the shelf
To share the lie that education is the path for everyone
To happiness and wealth.

Those who will and those who won't succeed
File in and settle down, day one,
Segregated, aggregated in their rows of need,
Stamped by labels and by scores.

The gauntlet lies before them:
Papers, deadlines, speeches, tests
To find the laurel winners.
And to **** the needy rest.

"Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed,"
Old Emily once said, and she'd be right to say it once again
About the battlefields in every school I've been.

This fall I'm taking time to hear
My students' goals and dreams,
Their challenges and hopes,
To say "I see you with my eyes."
I hope to see their hopes arise.

The race is to the steady, Aesop said,
The plodders beat the plotters in their way,
If we who have the gate keys in our hands
Encourage strugglers to stay.

I didn't believe in paper cuts
much like I didn't believe in love
until one day as I turned the pages
of a rather flimsy paperback
bound together
more so by the story it held
between its yellowing pages
than by its tattered spine
In my hurry to rush forward
with the other lives
I found myself so invested in
I felt a stinging burn pierce
the flimsiest part of my index finger
that seemed separated from the blood
(that was with such impertinence
bursting forth from my veins)
by the smallest stretch of skin
I watched the crimson pool
and drip reluctantly onto
the unsuspecting paper
and realised in that moment
you don't fall in love
you stumble into it, face-first
and feel the singeing burn afterward

I will never be you
Yes you, with that crowd around you
Your life's blooper reel .. now my fantasy
When you ****, they exclaim "How fragrant!"
Because you're "hot", definition: conflagrant

Your smiles turn no's into nods
Your eyes a puppy dog's competition
Your Facebook friend count: 3000
As I stalk you, green, astounded

For you were the me that now I'll never be
Because I decided that life's worth being real
Fake is a tongue best unspoken
Fair weather friendships, never unbroken

Like a celebrity spiraling into oblivion
Ms. Popular is now the chameleon

In another life
I am some bodies lover

Not wife, not girlfriend
Lover
The one he crawls to in the middle of the night
The one you hide away
The one you hold when you're  to tired to deal with all the baggage at he
And I am okay with this

Our stories intersect one day as I was walking in the fog
In an outfit 'sluttier' than I had anticipated
He's out there on the road
Trying to escape his same old home
And he sees me
He recognizes me

The same can't be said for me
I've always been bad with faces and places

But you see me
And walk up to me
As I'm walking to a cafe on the street

We'll return pleasantries
And then ill recognize you
You'll  walk me to my car
Even though I'm determined to walk alone
(Always too determined to walk alone)

I lean in
to hug
You lean in
for more
And I go along because that's me nature
And why the **** not

You'll call
Even though I didn't give you my number
We'll meet in hazy cafes
Dreary bars
All the the places your wife won't go
All the the places that seem like my second home

On our fourth meeting you'll hold me too long
Swear to yourself it's not anything more than longing
You'll doubt our arrangement
I'll be too strung out to see your internal battle
And you will see me
In that moment
As the broken thing
As the special project
That only you can fix
The mess
The that only you
Can hold together

I won't care about the ring line on your finger
You won't care about the *** you see on my kitchen table.
(Or the needles in my bathroom)
You won't care that I open the door in tears
I won't care that you can't stay the night
(But we both really do
Care
About everything)

You'll break down and tell me you love me
Even though you know it's the last thing I want to hear
You tell me
But I refuse to truly
Hear it

It comes through the too short grapevine that she want kids
And that's the notch that hits my trigger
Because children are the one
True innocence
Left in the world
And the second a minor enters our play
Is the moment I make my final exit

You lose me
Because I won't be found
You'll knock on the doors of my dealers
Call the family who turned their backs on me too long ago

I'll try to get it together
(And mostly fail)
I'll listen to too much Carole King
(Don't worry- I won't realize the irony)
The truth will come too clear in the eighth shot of Jameson
(And the nth hit)

The truth I hid from
Those frighteningly cliche three words

You go back to your perfect wife
I go back to my means to an end

You find me again
One night
(I let you find me)
And the accident that created
brightens my world
Wondrously

He becomes my life
The candle in the fog
My own perfection
My reason to feel the dreaded L word
I don't share him though

I'll give him everything
But you
(I'll thank you for the gift
everyday)
(I'll thank you for the love
Every second)