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We are not all travellers
Though we have all traveled
We are not all growing
Even so, we have all grown
We are not all wanted
Yet we are all wanting
We are not all sad
Knowing we all have sadness
We can't all be touching
Like we can all be touched
Just like we can't all be felt
Cruel
As we can all feel
We are not all loved

That said, we are all loving
Not all loving but everyone

Loves
Incomprehensibly inebriated, I stood up
Whether I walked, stumbled, fumbled or
Even crawled; I need not know or care
I struck you my friend, my best one too
Never did I deserve such company anyway
Pity, six of the best and hardest years spent
Mostly with you by my side and I by yours
Knowing what's best for someone is hard
A two way curse I say, whilst it may be best
It mightn't be what is wanted or needed
For arguments sake, we'd squabble
In the name of fun and youth we'd dabble
To be cast aside and know you deserve it
Friend, it hurts but the damage is done

Incomprehensibly inebriated, I threw
Six of the best, hardest years away
They say boys don't cry but we did,
When they said we couldn't attend our
High school prom because we didn't
Behave or act in a way that proved we
Wanted and deserved to go, although it
Wasn't for lack of trying, I remember
Those phone calls, Those late nights
I remember the successful appeal we made
How we both attended the prom, delightful
How your date was drop dead gorgeous
How mine kind of, wasn't?
You laughed Because she wanted to sleep with me and
You could tell I wasn't keen, funny times

Now we're 20 and we don't really speak
I know it's only been three to four weeks
Since I irreversibly ****** up, it's just
It feels like a long time now, I think a lot
About how I'm not friend material because
I hurt people, emotionally and physically
I'm a lousy drunk and cynical too
I've been this way a long time, nothing new
I have problems buried down deep
Even demons too, but I fought them
With others, I fought them with you
I miss my friends
As I look into your eyes
I know this feeling,
This moment,
Could be misinterpreted
By the both of us
As love.

Even the curious eyes
That watch us eagerly
Like some tacky
Reality TV show
Are passively hoping
Unintentionally
Wishing
That this,
Means something.
poetry at work
 Mar 2016 Wanderer
Jay
You walk in and the room falls silent-
Everything hushed by the presence of you.
My soul
suddenly awakened-
full.
I don't remember the last time
I felt my being ache with hunger.
There's something about you.
Something in the way you move
Like I've known you forever.
Greeting an old friend;
Missing an old lover.
Maybe we've met before.
There's an unknown comfort about you.
Soft.
Radiant.
Ancient memories.
Do you feel it too?

The hush of the world.
 Mar 2016 Wanderer
Gabriel
Perilous are the plunder dreams, those torn by twisted manifestation.  

Dipping toes into a opulent grand design, holding back tears caught hanging over the finest line.

Wicked straights drawn in the memories of this who once held up these walls, the walls we couldn't bear to look at now we can never live without.

How do you measure the strength of you inner stream, how can you chase a dream when you are sleeping.
 Mar 2016 Wanderer
Jay
All I See
 Mar 2016 Wanderer
Jay
Ash falls delicately across the landscape-
pure as snow.
As I wonder what it's like
to be held in secret.
Longing to be one of your secrets.
And these things that we speak of shall be written on walls in our minds. Our graffiti. Terms that only we understand. For it is prophecy. A prediction of what is to come and a promise that it will be good. Good like revolution. And leaflets. And protest signs. Good like fires and flags. Good like anthems and marches. Good like songs on our palms. The sheet music on mine. The lyrics on yours. And music when they touch. So, shall we go? Hand in hand into the subway tunnels to the rest of this? We'll have the truth to keep us busy as we fumble for the next word and step. Awkward like children, dancing around fires. Foot before foot, until we match rhythm and run from it all. Because running away is as much my blood as poetry and red wine. And you are not only the journey but, sometimes, the destination as well. Listen to my hand on yours as I pray for peace while you sleep. The walls of the tunnel passing behind us as we forget who we are for what we will become. This will evolve. This will evolve.
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