I wrote ten letters last night
one for every monologue
I should have recited to you
but at the time
was too busy
worrying whether or not
you were right

creation called chaos
art named insanity
beauty believed madness

I feel mostly like I'm just a skeleton
With worn out ribs and a cracked spine
Blood shot eyes lined by dark circles
Alabaster skin I'm constantly trying to shed
An alien within my own habitat
I know not where I'm going
Or when I shall ever get there
But I still carry on, slightly limping all the way,
The unforgotten memories of past failure still lingering
Reminding me I am merely bones and skin
Emotions  and ambitions left behind long ago
Not immune to the disastrous ways of the universe

My heart is a mechanism over which I have no control
My heart is a weapon I use against myself
My heart is a conglomeration of mixed up emotions
My heart is a tattered and torn but still somehow beating vessel
My heart is a complete and utter paradox; it perplexes even myself
My heart is heavy artillery ready to open fire on me at any moment
My heart is a solitary device, driven only by its own selfish and foolish desires
My heart is a kindergarten craft project, held together weakly with superglue,
but each fragile piece created with care
My heart is the antithesis of progress,
the opposite of what I need to remain sane

I may not be able to memorize trigonometric formulas
But I've sure memorized every word out of your mouth
I may find myself unable to write an essay about nuclear fission
But I could compose thousands of sonnets about your smile
I may never comprehend how millions of atoms inhabit the air around me
But I've never for a moment doubted my feelings for you
I may fall half asleep during a professor's drawn out lecture
But when I'm beside you every nerve in my body is a live wire
I may not have any idea of what I want to do in my life or where I'm going
But I know everything would seemingly fall into place
if only I could fall asleep next to you at night
and awaken in the early hours of the morning
with our limbs entangled

Time is a social construct,
constricting us to certain hours
and denying us the potential magic of others.

Does her voice calm the chaos inside your head?
Does her touch simultaneously put you at ease and create electricity?
Does her very being intrigue you in a way you never thought possible?
Do her eyes soften at the sight of yours looking back into them?
Do her thoughts seem to be interconnected with yours?
Do her hands clasped with yours make your heart dance?
Does your world get set aglow when she only just acknowledges you?
Does your brain melt when she flashes you a smile?
Does your heart long for her to be your's since you're already her's?
Did my affections not stir anything within you except discomfort?
Did my limbs entangled with yours only make you feel encaged?
Did my never ending supply of care for you go uncared for?
Does the thought of me fill you with disgust and dread?
Does your mind ever wander to me from time to time?
Does my memory encapsulate all your regret?
Do I need to go to the Bermuda Triangle to get you out of my head?
Do I need to become a flashing neon sign to attain your attention?
Do I need to shed this skin and emerge out in strength?

There's something about the way
The early morning air tastes
When you're up before the dawn
Slowly making your journey
Along the side of a mountain

There's something to be said
About all the individuals
Forging their way in the world
Attempting to create meaning
Out of a meaningless galaxy

There's something about how
Your eyes linger on mine
How we're somehow connected
Even within the silence

There's something about
The cosmos and it's mysteries
A spiral of stars lighting up
The dark midnight backdrop
How we often forget to appreciate
All this beauty right above us

There's something about the way
Children are so enthusiastic
Of all their surroundings
Holding this wonder
For all around them
A curiosity and sense of adventure
We somehow unfortunately lose
More and more every year

There's something to be acknowledged
In how every human being on the planet
Is completely unique and unlike anyone else
A multitude of qualities and traits
Yet somehow, we are able to find
Friends and loved ones
Akin with our own spirits
Those who are more ourselves
Than even we are

There's something about the way
Precipitation falls down in droplets
Creating melodies on our windowpanes
Drizzling and misting over everything
Making the earth
Feel fresh and new again