is it silly to write you a poem
when we've never kissed,
when we've never spoken,
when we've never met?
is it silly to tell you that i love you
when i don't even know
if i'll ever know you?
is it silly to want you,
to crave you, to say that i miss you?
is it silly that i can't write these verses
without wanting to cry, wanting to mourn
the loss of someone i never had?
is it silly to think that one day
i'll show you these words
and you'll smile when you
think at how things turned out?
is it silly to believe that i won't be alone?

I am radiant
   So do not rationalize

                         I shine like stars
                           through brilliant bubbles
                        of light and love and patience
        
                   if you rationalize me
               I become just a weak light bulb,
            struggling to illuminate
                even the smallest empty room
                      on my own

I grew up in a house with white walls
The light shined through the brighter
Every happy morning
In my bed beside my brother.

When my Dad first drank
Dry rot found a nest
We moved into a house with cream coloured walls,
Without my father.

I saw the cream walls turn blue
When I broke a pen on my brother
And the ink became his blood of this fight
We moved into a house with purple walls

I saw the purple walls turn grey
When we all got our own rooms
And we all chose the same colour
As we sat alone.

I moved into a house with black walls
When my life dragged me away from them
The light shone through the darker
Every unhappy morning.

My house was small
It was damp and it was dark
I heard a knock at the black door
And light came in with you.

We moved into a house with white walls
Every morning a birth of new sunlight
Every happy morning,
Waking up beside you and smiling

I don't ever drink
I keep a watch for dry rot
And our walls stay white
Forever.

have you ever believed
in something so blindly
so genuinely
that the moment you realize
it isn't true, something inside you
changes forever?
i wanna tell you a story, see
seldom do i ever
go swimming in drinks
deep enough to drown in
but when i do
i speak in tongues
about things that none
of my memories
are allowed to talk about
like that christmas
at the isthmus
where my girlfriend
plucked a conch shell
whiter than gods teeth
out of the sand
held it to her ear
and stopped time
that day she was a shade of blue
the could've made the ocean sick
see, she loved to play jokes
when she held
the sea shell to her ear
she gasped, called my name
and said "i want you to hear this"
i said "yeah, right, everybody knows it's just the same old sea"
she replied "no. not this one. this one is special. listen. theres music in this one"
she handed me the shell
like a promise she couldn't keep
and i held it to my ear
with all the potential
of seeing shore
after being stranded
at sea for years
only to hear
a tired dirge of silence
spill from its emptiness
i guess she didn't know
how desperately
i wanted to hear it too
because ever since
something inside me snapped
now sand pours out
of every post card i open
i hear seagulls
in telephone static
sometimes i have dreams
where i bury my hands
in every beach
i've ever been on
and exhume this graveyard of noise
every time i try to sleep
i spit up fishhooks
and i guess i'm obsessed
but maybe
if i hold my ear
to enough vacant things
then i could have back
the time stolen from me
since it happened
maybe they would get it
if they knew what i wanted
when i blow out birthday candles
maybe they'll find me
face down in a wishing well
i watch eternal sunshine
of the spotless mind every day
pretending i can forget too
because this sea sickness
has followed me for years
because yesterday
i walked into a music shop
and all the pianos broke
but the only thing
i can think to say is
*do you know how bad
a memory has to be
that you fantasize
about forgetting it?

I want the kind of love
That's quiet

Quiet like tea and a blanket in the morning

I want a love that's soft
That's honest and deep and true
That's always there

Love that's not for show
Or for power
But love simply because love is felt

I want a love that accepts and encourages
I want a love that embodies peace

I have tied heart strings around my neck
and hoped the blurred vision of my
somewhat self destructive nature
would take away the optic curses
that disallow me to see what I cannot heal.

Sharpened question marks
hook into the aged rings in my flesh.
Left out for too long; forgotten.
He tries not to cry as
suspended interrogatives pull at limbs
and hang body over a myriad of "who?" or "why?"
(I forget which).

I am both the antique puppet and the
incandescent hole in the puppet master's chest,
taught to love my wooden creators
and fall in love with anything
that helps me forget about the skeletons
within my bloodstream.
Pull my strings.
Watch me come undone.

Starlight wings white as snow,
Illuminating the night sky.
Will you take me?
Can I reach you?

The resonating sound of love,
Sends ripples through the ocean of my heart.
Once an endless abyss,
Now harbors summery waters.

Your words imbued with sunlight,
Drive away the most torturous thoughts.
As the notes of your dulcet voice,
Echo through the airways.

The rhythmic beat of your heart,
Like the ticking of a clock.
I hear it.
I feel it.
I need it.

Oh, bearer of radiant wings;
I continue to climb higher;
Continue to work harder,
Continue to stand taller.

I will fly with you;
I will reach you;
And I will touch you;
As you have touched me.