There in the evergreen forest
Footprints laden in snow
Walked the soul of angel
Silhouetted in the moon lights glow

Lost and far from heaven
The angel asked of me
Please oh wondering stranger
Tell me you know these wood

To well I replied
*I've been stuck here
Wondering the evergreen forest
Since I lost my wings too

Nine AM
Morning coffee multiplies
Erratic thoughts in this sleep deprived head
So please excuse what is about to be
Quite the stream of unconsciousness
While looking out this window at autumn leaves
Thinking of how it is not just the seasons that change
Or is it they stay the same
Just stuck on repeat
I suppose it really is all in all equal
And there is a little of every season in one another
That’s why there are Indian summers
But it’s more than that
Really
It is the embodiment of the idea
That change is merely temporary
Just as the caffeine now waking me
Will inevitably deteriorate back into
A tired sleepless state

War
Is Like
Water and Whiskey

Changing men
Every shot
Altering consciousness

The more
Shots one takes
The stronger the drink

War
Take a shot
Whiskey
Take another

And I wander
How many
People in bars
Are still
Waging war
In their minds

These ideas
Like singularities
Infinitely dense
Violently
Collapsing in
And
The Mind
Is just another Universe
Dominated by
Chaotic
Contraction and expansion
Another thought is born
While another ends
And the gravity
Of some minds
Captivate
Others celestial bodies

when life leaves our bodies
are we truly dead
or is it death
once memories of us cease
and our name
is exhaled for the last time

our lives after all
are only memories
so once we are forgotten
we are only then
truly dead

So we die twice
Once
When the final breath
Leaves our body
Twice
When our final memory
Is forgotten

So appears another empty promise
I made to myself
In this disinterested cloud of delusion
What once were my dreams
Are now dull precipitates
Pooling into my minds crevasses

I may appear calm on the outside
But a storm rages in my mind
This too I will weather
And come out the other side
For the better

Life is but a single moment
A flicker
Each a glimmer of imperfection
Because in that moment
We share the moments of others
And our imperfections conjoin
To create tragedies and love stories
So that
Even in death
Those moments echo on

Do I cross your mind
From time to time
Is it some stupid joke I told
Or a smell in the wind
For me
It's a dream keeping me up at night
As real and constant as your laugh
Although I feel thoughts of you with a pang of guilt
Wondering how I Should actually feel
We fall so easily for new faces
But it is more
It's brushing past one another
And deep silent looks
Sharing stories like childhood books
This seems almost too cliche
Maybe it doesn't exist
Except in dreams

I've been attending my funeral
In this new reoccurring dream
It seems even my subconscious
Is growing tired
Of this Low self esteem
And the man behind the gun
Is just the man in the mirror
I've even started praying to god
That  this muddled vision of my future
Might become a little clearer
Because this gift I've been given
Is like a malnourished seed
All this time waiting for flowers or trees
But left there at my headstone
Just a pile of weeds

Perfection
Is the mirror image
Of a soul
The same
But opposite

That reflection
Is who you are
And
Who you are
Meant to be

Down the Alabaster pathway
To the Ivory alley
Behind a Jade door
Lies a metaphorical passage
From unfinished books
Of the short lived
Explaining
*Only the good die young
Because you never got to know them

Work the seam,
Collect your pay,
live to work another day

Work the seam ,
with low overhead,
Finish work, head off to bed

work the seam ,
dangerously dim,
give into its every whim

work the seam,
explosion beneath,
tunnels become full of grief

work the seam ,
the day is done,
seems this time the mountain won

work the seam ,
but not for coal,
but for bodies young and old

work the seam ,
collect you pay,
remember the ones who didn't make it out today...

I am just words
Hanging off the page
An unspoken sentence
Left to unravel in ones mind
An unopened novel
Collecting dust on the shelf
Profoundly insignificant
Drifting through this word scape
We call life  
Coming ever close to that
Proverbial ending of a page

Had a lot on my mind
Tried jotting it down
Now I'm facing a DWI
Told the officer
Sir I'm not drunk
I was just writing while I drive
So he gave me a WWD