Keep distance, the Snail said,
I don't feel safe with humans around
and my pace makes me so vulnerable.

He took a deep breath and added,
do you ever feel my toil
to move from place to place
while the winds blow in gusts
and the world passes by like a storm?

My minutes tick like your hours
and hours days
as I climb the mountains of walls
cover furlongs of ground
rest and restart
never really knowing
where the path ends.

And you only add to my woes.

Your prank of a kick
rolls me back and down
all the way
to beyond from where I began.

A teardrop gathered in his opal eyes.

But it really doesn't matter,
a smile broke through the tears,

I see with all your pace
you're so far from happiness.

lines cut heavy
on a button stretched brow
thick rubber shoes
and dragon canes
fill out the closet floor
gospel sounds
and narratives (drowned)
apparitions set sullenly
amid voices from the past

finger pins
and crosswords
find the favor list
point men and preachers
tip up their tuscany caps
twitching and sign gazing
with spectacles held firm
recurring evening news
and beadledom views

clappers and caregivers
raise a crooked foot
grips and rockers
settle in on the front porch
gertrude grimaces
at an untimely turn
as the gooseberry pie
(with a smidgen of cloves)
chills by the night watch

Why do we imagine beyond
the realms of possibilities
why do we dream of places unseen
why do we dare the stars to fall
so we may make wishes from their death

and yet do so little with our lifes

Why do we fear the things
of our hearts true desires
of love so beautifully blinding
of life so freely lived
that we make small wishes on the death
of stars falling from the sky

What is this life we live of work and toil
to wear away our years and flesh
to fade away in silent desolation
and grind our bones to dust and sand
and be less than memory of dying winds
wishing on stars that die
so they may come down from the sky

do we do too little or think too much
what significance are we
to the sun the moon the stars
when we believe ourselves confined
to the body of our flesh
and lock ourselves within our minds

that only in the breath of the hour
of our dreams that we can be more than
queens and kings of human misery
and take the shape of any bird
and fly beyond the realm of skies

and what is it to dream of places unseen
from what mind or eye did we dare
to steal away memories that were not ours
and from what imagination did we find
realms beyond the possible

were we nothing more
in what may have come before
lonely stars hanging quietly in the sky
waiting to be dreamt as something more
made out of flesh and bone
and be a home for a heart
that knew the truth
of living out loves true desires

imagine what could be
if we believed in the breath
of the hour of our dreams
and we lived a life
so beautifully blinding
that love was free to live
in its hearts true desire

we're pretending that we're so cool,
with our terrible dancing and music

but we keep doing what we do.

we were ballistic until the sun rose.

jumping around to the same five lyric-less songs
not dancing, jumping.

our society is messed up,
but for that moment,
that night,

we were okay.

we lived with nothing but our hearts upon our sleeves.
our smiles weren't fake that night,

just 68 thirteen year olds having the time of their life with out their parents for 4 days.

there was no drinking or ****,
we were high off of each others energy.
we were feeding off it.

i felt alive.

i saw the world in colour.