After a long night last thursday
With my limbs touching the water of the salty sea
My body lying on the wetty softy sand
Hearing nothing just the waves and your voice
Spending hours hearing that mixture
Your voice and the waves
Or to be more realistic
The singer and the song
After that night, that long night
I started feeling you everywhere
I felt you beside my brain going down to my heart
I felt you racing my red blood
Running between my small parts
I felt you standing there inside my mind
Checking on every thought and fixing what you didn't like
I felt you in my eyes, in my ears
I felt you and felt you and felt you
Until I started feeling nothing other than you

After a long perfect night last thursday
I knew that you owned even the breath out of me.

I need a mattress,
An object to fall on.
Something to cradle me
As I drift off to sleep.

I need a mattress,
An object to sleep on.
Something to comfort me
As I fitfully dream.

I need a mattress -
But, alas,
I dream -

I fear.

If only I didn't fear of crushing it
Under it's weight
As well as my own.

I want a mattress.

I wonder if clouds know they're beautiful
When they sit and watch from the the sky

I wonder if they know how dangerous and threatening they are
When thunder cries out

I wonder if they know how they turn colors
When the sun hits them just right

I walk to work wondering if they know

I wish I could live up there with them
I could be puffy and white

And no one would say anything
Because that's how clouds are

I wish I could reflect the sun
But only be full of rain

If I was full of rain
I wouldn't be full of emotion

Clouds don't become angry
Or sad

Clouds don't fall in love
And realize their love wasn't real

I wonder if clouds know how truly breath-taking they are

If I could stay and lay on the grass all day
And watch them

I would

I've driven through clouds once
It was like a dream

I pulled over and felt the fleeting puffs wisp by
I felt the rain wet my skin

I felt the cold penetrate my clothes
I felt the wind tangle my hair

And most of all
I felt the thrill of being in the clouds

I wonder if they thought of me as beautiful
As much as I saw them that way

You know me too well
My need to overwhelm, my inclination towards violets
You know I’ve never been one for violence
But lately I’ve had an urge to wage war on this mileage
To battle the empty silence that divides us
Stretching highways, hungry for defiance
To shut despair's deaf eyes
Ever eager to remind us
All our lonely prayers are hushed
I’ve been ready to head home since we parted ways at dusk
These windswept arms of distance have been outstretched long enough
If I could march home along heaven’s backbone
You’d see my soles above
Swallowed whole in our story
Pages brushed with wanderlust
I’d hold the reigns of a comet with these half-moon hands
Charging back to you with the shining night at my command
Or pray for rain to come
And flood these unwavering lands
I’d slip the sunrise in my slingshot to send to your front door
Babe I know you hate the dark but I can’t hold you anymore
Id scrawl with chalk above the treetops
A hundred mile hopscotch
Jump from block to block until your front porch was my last stop
I wouldn’t hesitate to knock
Move checkered stars outta alignment
Forge a constellation highway
And leave my worldly woes behind
I’d rip the seams off the horizon
Force the earth to compromise
Make it fold itself in two until I’m standing next to you
I might just stack up all my time
Every second I’ve misused
Douse it with missed memories and blindly light the fuse
Or maybe you’ve been hiding
Tucked away between
The folds of sky
And endless rolling tides
So I’ll peel back the rimes of mother earth
To see what lies inside her
In my mind’s eye she’s been looking, too
A fruitless search to find you
But hell I’ll give up when my time’s through
Because I’ve seen enough of life to know
I’ve only cracked the door
But, you like my smile
And well, I like yours

Can I show you how beautiful you are? Can I take out the old photo albums and push my index finger into the faces, the places, and seas? I want to peel back the plastic and remove the square photographs from their sticky setting. I'm alluding to ideas that exist more formidably on the internet- there are no paper photographs, no sticky settings, there aren't even faces in the numbers; it's only ever been you or me.

Some of my things are crooked. The strings don't work, the wires are twisted and make the sounds all come out funny. There's a strange buzzing everywhere, it's like Mickey's gray cloud, a cloud Koopa throwing spiked shells from Park Avenue beach to Montrose street. Everything is quiet, consuming, unassuming and still recalcitrant. I'm showing nothing to nobody. Coaxing storm systems and netting foul play and ***** tricks, with my pants around my ankles or my fly unzipped.

I'm stinking of this stuff. These sudorific crevices on the insides of my thighs. I'm more or less always pacing. Rocking. Rolling. Small room I'm living room, cadavers I stuff my skinny fingers inside of- cold, wet hollow places I'm seeking skin covered gods in. I'm craving tastes and flavors. I'm looking at these pictures of me, of my face and the clothes I wore, the people that knew me. Where have I disappeared to? Every place that I went, every condition of my humanness has gone. Five minutes past my certainty, squirting hot molten magma from my ****, my lips, and my fingertips. Hysterical thoughts and homily. I want just a hello. I want just a hello.