Every time the sun comes up
My mind becomes alive
With thoughts of you
As I try to focus
On some subtle facet
Of your beauty.

However, sometimes
The day holds for me
Something that sits in my head
And festers like rotting meat.
I try to ignore it but the stink
Is overwhelming and my mind
Is consumed.

I give in and try instead
To simply scrub my mind clean
So that I can begin anew tomorrow
But as I lie in bed
Ready to put today behind me
A familiar restlessness fills me
I toss and turn trying to find
a distraction that will let me sleep.

I know what I must do.

With the moon glowing
It comes to me like a fever dream.
I pick up my pen and scratch out
Today's inspiration.

It isn't perfect but
Compared to the muse
It never is.

Tomorrow will be better.

Everyday you are different
Though inherently similar
You show me something each day
That is completely new.

Whether it is as simple
As the way the light reflects
In your ever-changing eyes,
As subtle as a change
In your alluring smile,
As creative as a new thought
That bursts from your mind.

You keep me on my toes,
My pen scratching at the page,
And my adoration stronger
Than the day before

I am beaten and worn
too many things have
come undone and it seems
Fate itself is against me.
But the sun is high and
there is much that remains,
so I struggle onward.

Finally, as the last of my strength
is stripped away, it is done.
I come home and a stillness
washes over me.

I fall into bed and my head
begins to sink into
the cool soft of my pillow
but sleep does not come easy.
For tomorrow still remains
and I have not the heart
to face it.

A delicate chirp interrupts
my anxious thoughts,
I turn and check my phone,
what now will the world
throw in my face?

It is you, or rather
a mere reminder of you.
But this is all I need.
My heart pounds briefly,
a smile stretches across my face
and I slip into a
gentle,
peaceful,
sleep.

Sit

S
T
A
N
D


W      a      l     k        a    r    o     u    n       d


                          s

                                  m

                              o

                          k
                                e


Call me Ishmael. Some years ago-never mind how long
precisely-having little or no money in my purse, and
nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought
I would......

Nothing helps.
I just feel



                                                                                          alone

I never once claimed
that everything went
the way I wanted to.

I told you that I
was not ready
for what you wanted.

But I saw the look in your
eyes and knew I had to try,
because how many times
had I been told the same thing
and wanted what you want now?

As the weeks passed by
I grew accustomed to waking next to you.
I never asked for the affection
but soon I began to need it.

Looking back you laugh
saying it was just *** and
the occasional dinner.
Nothing... Just like I had wanted.

Was it really nothing?
Did the lack of title constitute
lack of meaning?

Maybe it's just been too long
since the last time
and it will be too long
till the next time but

I felt loved,
even though I know now
I wasn't.

They're just words
to you aren't they?

Is it so impossible
to see that they have meaning?

He tells her he loves her
that he would die without her
and you just spout out sounds
like you're ordering a cheeseburger.

Expand your mind for just a moment
let the character into your soul.

Have you never loved someone?
Have you never felt that you would
wither away and die without her?

Remember that feeling
that make your knees shake
your blood run cold
your voice catch in your throat
and use it.

Think back to the sparkle of her eyes
the tender touch of her hand
the angelic sound of her voice in the night,
this is that moment all over again

Let it fill you
let it consume you
let your pain
and desperation
become real once more

f I leave you with the impression
that I think you are perfect
I apologize.

As unromantic as it is
I simply know this isn't true
and like all of us you have more
baggage then we like to admit.

But one part of you I know to be perfect
is your aesthetics.

The way all of your parts
good and bad mix together
to create a person I can hardly
believe I've actually met.

Your beauty and insanity
lifelong dreams and daily desires
blend together and leave me
in the presence of somebody
unequivocally and irrefutably
real.

You exceed my maximum daily dose
of reality and although it isn't always
easy, I am only too glad to take
hit after hit.

The high is something I cannot describe.