Build me like the city streets
Strap my bones to solemn steel
And give me an expression without inability

Prop me up like the towering buildings
And bend my back to the labors of industry
So that I might just understand
What it means to hear the steel heart beat

Let these words go out from here and heal
Let these voices reach and touch the meek
Let the rhythm within my soul preserve
And the minds amongst us finally meet

So that we could savor a moments peace
So that we could pad the snow laden ground
And meet where the steel heart slowly beats

For we are the blood within which seeps
As we rise to the surface quietly
Teeming with life and full of desire
To actively ponder and passionately seek

To understand the truth within
For we are a vessel most unique
To reach the travelers of time
And to mold such minds as they do sleep

For anytime such blood cells meet
The steel heart surely can be heard
In unison with every beat

Be it underneath these city streets
Let such an expression be heard by more than me

Hear the howling cold of winter
And know that warmth is in my heart
Waiting for you throughout December
With outstretched hands and spirit renewed
Know that every year I will wait for you

Would you turn your head ever so slightly?
Just for a moment so that I could see
Your face hidden beneath your hairs embrace

Because if ever there were a chance to be
I would sit beside you for eternity
And watch the autumn leaves turn back to green

And at dusk if you were to fall asleep
I would shoulder your head with my own cheek
And hold you there until the sunrise peaked

But only if you'd turn your cheek
Just this once so that I could see
The place where my lips wish to be

How they desire to meet with your unseen beauty

On days like this, I wish she were here. I wish she was already asleep in my bed.

I wish that my sheets smelled more like her hair, and less like the mess that I left there instead.

How I wish, and I wish, like the stars she'd appear, every night, before my eyes, burning crystalline clear.

How I wish and I wish for our future my dear, for a setting in which we would ever draw near.

Yet alone every night only my voice I hear. As I question myself, have I've become what I feared?

Until dusk meets the dawn, wisper words in my ear. Say I miss you my darling, say I miss you my dear.

Some days I miss her,
But I’d never tell her this.

Because you know what it is that I really do miss?
I miss only my thoughts about what it is that she is.
And the curve of her waist, the distort of her hips.

And at the end of the day the only thought left is this...
I can tolerate this,
Because I don’t really want what she really is.

We are not entitled to exciting things.

Neither sunrise, nor sunset waits for any human hand.
It simply is, and you must be there to capture it, if you want, and you can.

Lest you complain, that you have been given a lesser chance than another man.

To live your life without the sleep you need, and sacrifice your hands and feet.
In pursuit of something far short of eternity.
I call that a distraction.

On your game again, you cannot help but play again.
Obsession mixed with practice, is but a single means of expressing passion.
Which may or may not be, for you, a form of extraction.

Pulling yourself from the reality of a dissatisfactory life.
Softening the blow to take, and heading down the wrong direction.
Time and time again, for goodness sake….

This life, this journey, will always be full of such mistakes.

But to let your doubts drive you away,
To let your fear of the unknown, leech the very passion of your life away,
By means of distraction.

That my friends, is a failure of action.
A surrender to the reaction of taking a check, and spending your small fraction.  
When every day, you’d grow in spirit, if you'd only renegade with your your passion.

Staggering home after half a day, while trying simply to escape, the prior day's’ inability and inaction.

But I digress. Remember this.

We are not entitled to live exciting lives of interaction.

We must first create and encourage, not inhibit,
The excitement within others,
Which motivates them towards their own action.

This my friends, is the very nature of passion.

It is raining, you must be crying.
I left you on the dark side of a broken highway.
Just outside of the intersection of time and change.
You did proclaim that you were afraid that I wouldn't stay.
That I wouldn't live to see the light of the following day.

And I didn't.
You were right.

I got in my car and drove away.
But not because I wanted to.
But because I didn't feel at home enough to stay.
How could I possibly find our way, when you were without a map everyday?
Once alive and bright like the dashboard light.
I faded away, into the dark of this good night.

Yet you never saw the sadness which I kept when I did drive away.