If there stood a single flower in the center
of a wasteland expanding eternally outwards,
more readily would i pluck it from its wary essence
than i would surrender my memories of you.

If death stood before me,
and i had yet one word of plea to continue my existence,
a proclamation of my love for you would grace the reapers ears.

If our world were plagued by a cancer,
and the stars fell from the sky i would not care.
I see more stars in your eyes than could ever exist.

I have heard poets proclaim their loves before.
In them they see the majesties and wonders
of our universe reflected in their ladies.
I walk the roads of earth, witnessing miracles
and spectacular beauties and every time
i am only reminded of you.

stay up until two o clock

and write bad poetry.
because nothing can describe life in a more simple and beautiful way

write, deprive yourself
in an attempt to make the mundane and fleeting thoughts
of a single person amongst billions
wonderful

bad poetry is the best kind.

you're the cream of the crop.
mom and dad are proud of you.
this
is the day you've been waiting for.

i don't claim to understand you,
but i can't honestly say i'd like to.
the blue gown that means so much to everyone around you
whispers of the things you gave up,
the opportunities you've missed,
to be here today.
the whispering cloak falls victim to the applause that breaks out
as you claim your place at the podium
top
of the class.

you've worked hard. there's no doubting that.
you're a multi-faceted gem of talent and intellect.
which in reality is subservience and obedience.
i don't doubt that had you not urinated on your passion
i might have respected you some day.

but honestly. i'm happy for you.
the diploma will look stunning on your wall
next to all of your other shining achievements
along with your jarred "talents" and canned pleasantries

"No problem, ma'am."
the cash registers beeped and employees and customers chattered like a far off stream
that click
the one that you feel when you turn off the conveyor belt that brings me the groceries
always feels like i'm saying goodbye too early
i like my job a little too much i think

stepping away from the register, i asked her
"ma'am would you like me to push the cart for you?"
thankfully she said yes.
i like pushing carts because it gives me something to do with my arms
and then i dont have to swing them around like an awkward
neanderthal

small talk
its difficult for me.
my thoughts drifted to school
i had an assignment due in a couple days. i need to work on that later i tell myself

they can never remember where they park
every time i quietly chuckle to myself
how could anyone forget?

we arrive at the car
a little red thing
i **** at cars.
"did you want everything in the trunk?"
routine assistance.
heavy items first, eggs and bread on top or in the front seat.
finished

"ok ma'am, anything else i can do for you today?"
i could already hear her answer. either some sort of joke, or just a graceful no.
i was wrong though.

"just spread the kindness" she said.

i once had a bb gun
it was really cool because it could shoot way far
like,
to the moon probably.

i showed it to my friend thomas.
he thought it was cool too
and then we decided to go look for things to shoot.
we shot at some cans
and some pinecones
and then we drew a bullseye on a piece of wood.

that was fun for a little bit.

then i had to go home.
on my way back i saw some pigeons sitting on a telephone wire
i don't know what i thought.
maybe i was thinking "what's one less pigeon?"
i don't know.

i fired one shot and wings were alive with fright
they clapped like thunder in my ears as the bird  tried to fly away
it started to fall from the wire
i think maybe
that this was the longest moment in my life.
the wings which had served that small creature so well were useless
now
i could have sworn it looked at me

i don't know why pigeon.
i'm so sorry.

Be silent for a moment
Make no sounds.
Be the chirps of the birds
Low and cooing off somewhere
In the branches of a tree
Swelling with the soft breath of the wind

Be the far off roar of jet engines
A quiet reminder of powerful things
Lost in human struggle

Sit silently.
Absorb the life around you.

Be the pulse of traffic
Roaring and pulsing
Like veins in a cardiovascular
Organic machine,
a great entity unaware of its
Own existence
Except in small instances

Be the sparrows,
Shouting in heated discussions
That we will never know the meaning of

Make no sound. Take in
The sounds of cash registers afar
Customers and children chattering and shopping
Living. Be the sounds of oranges falling into place
Completing themselves into and onto each other

Be no sounds. Be the stone in a bubbling brook.
Feel life flow around you
Fluidly pouring ever onward
Chattering quietly to itself as it pours
Over the stones in the river bed.

Every day has a victor.
whether or not the victor of days past has been you is irrelevant now
because i have seen it.
today is yours.

nobody else knows it yet,
because you have to show them.
you must fight for your victories, as with everything else
and you have a reason to
because today is yours.

they will try to take it from you
you will be oppressed with the mundane
but look to the horizon and see your crest
flying atop the banner of the sunset.

forget your undoing. you are invincible.
fight for it. thirst for it.
i can see it in you.
this day is yours.

I’m sorry
If you thought I was smelling you
I have a cold you see
it's winter,
and it would seem the life
that once graced the limbs of trees and the buds of flowers
has taken up residence
in my nasal cavity.

the sniffles you may have heard
were not an attempt to steal a piece of your essence
but merely the feeble accommodations of a person with
a virus.

of course, none of this is to say that i wouldn't want to smell you.
whereas the life of the trees and birds and flowers
has become my enemy
it seems to have been kept in you.

you remind me of daffodils.
i think of you and my eyes feel as if they are welling up
i am allergic to daffodils, you see.
i do think they are quite nice to look at though.
every time i am around them however,
i become nature's fool

i'll never see you again.
my words are falling on the deaf ears of nature
in the winter when sounds seem to be hushed
but please know
i really wasn't trying to smell you.
i couldn't smell anyways.