Prestige with me most humbly,
As I paint you a picture never before seen.

Hear my words before I speak,
And gravitate ever so slightly towards the edge of your seat.
Such magical words do not come with ease.

They are the result of craft and timeless tries.
Again and again to coincide,
Within the lock and key inside.

Yet I escaped like Harry the great,
Call me a magician by twist of fate.

So I shuffle the words for all to see,
And deal them out most graciously.

Captivating the audience,
I line the Jacks in rows and stacks.

Only to quietly turn them back,
Into the deck where I escaped,
Into my hand which hold their fates.

And hopefully by watching me the crowd escapes,
Into the the purely predestined fate,
Into the magnificence I create.

This anxious memory of my own
Is a wish to be free
Like a cloud to return
How it longs to be rain
Set resting on the forgotten ground

My own mother called me an adult today
How dare she
Without even seeing what I've become
Know

I want to be a wing of your mansion
Close the door on me if you like
But I'll always be extensive
No door can hide what's left behind
And just behind
The light within a man's eyes

As a lover says I will return
Just before the extended loss of stay
Be it echoed over mountains past
Or etched in stillness contemplation
The tongue in all of its self-proclaimed wisdom
Finds no words less, no more deserving
Then the faithful say
And cry on high
Saying Maranatha – Maybe today

TBC

Have you ever had a song repeat?
And turn you a certin way?
For in passing I see
Now that Mayer maybe
When he said
"Would you say what you need to say?"

Such is a necessity

This is me
Standing on a tower cold
Pushing up the clouded skies
With fingers stretched wide
Trying to hold back the rainy clouds
Until this imitation month
Which proclaims to be a daughter of May
Proceeds to pass us by

May isn't for rain

The love of my life doesn't mean
Heart and soul
It means choose and choice
Part and whole

The greatest trap of all for mankind
Is that of being and not being
And when there is no God
Not being begins to look awfully friendly

I am the fire beneath the sands of time
Worn and torn into a thousand pixels
Burning bright in the last hour of daylight
Beneath the surface
I am the last step of the marathon
The breaking of the tickertape
And the blackness of the screen beneath
And at the same time
I am fire
I am all of these
Alive

The lover on the other line
Who whispers nothings
Literal nothings
Isn't real

She's just the memories which
I'm inclined to think about
And yearn to kiss
Again and again

Cold where it meets the tongue
Warm in the mindful eyes relived
Turn up the heat in this solemn room
As it is all that I can do to relive this again

No home, no food, no time left to return
Let alone option to be a companion
As I of the few who remain
Sum of less who survived let alone to thrive

And in breathing I, no, all of this is against me
Every ounce and pound of reality found
In the noise upstairs and the quite beneath
Down below the surface once paid for dearly

But I can touch my lips to a glass of memories
And taste every Saturday of childhood overflowing
As I am there again
But not there at all

Not the aimlessness
Indecisiveness
Or the constant lack of questioning
No
None of that
But I’ll always remember her raven hair in a spiral stair
And the jealousy in her sister’s eyes

Clearer than any settled pool
Brighter than any firework sky
Fresher than any daisy or flower
More real than any polished rock to remind

Falling fast and furious in mind
Like a stonework leaning slow built tower
With a buzzing hum as a furious fly
And sanguine light midst reflective pool

I remember it like it was yesterday
Because it was just 3674 days ago

You know,
You want,
You sure?
Because...
What I want is no mere simple thing.
What I want,
Is her.

What is man without action?
Resulting choice?
What is a man without action indeed?
Just a voice.

I cannot help but wonder,
About you and where you are.
A person who sees truth in me,
Behind the mask and scars.

You're someone who speaks in silence,
And someone who knows the sound,
Having heard another heartbeat,
Be it simple or profound.

Yes you have heard and you can listen,
Even if it’s just to me.
Because of who you are in earnest,
Apparent truth within your plea.

That is your words are wise and waiting,
Searching desperately to find,
Another pen another heartbeat,
To match your own in ink and mind.

-SS

Shadow, a scar across his face
Scratched unknowingly upon his own

Not to worship the self
Or the look therein

But to escape the external realities known
The distant typing of the alone

I refuse to not try
Let alone die
For the life I could potentially lead
Therefore you see
That I must try
And thay there is no in between

Maybe this summer?
Maybe these stars?
Will be the distant midnight fires
Which will look down upon this tired old heart
And rejoice as it falls
Endlessly
Stumbling upon the greatest love of all

I need to know
Or else I'm afraid, that I must go
Quietly into this good night

Because not knowing
Of this so and so
Destroys my heart and plagues my mind

Every... Single... Time....

Her hair alive
A life of its own

With waters clear
And mindful eyes

Ever wide awake
As if with sound

Be it nothing at all
She is ever still

there is the seeing
and the steps between
to take yourself there
to where you think
(you need to be)

Don't challenge me, I am not a machine. I am flesh and blood and a heart which beats, twice as fast as the former me. Hence why these words speed rhythmically from within my cheek.

One day my friend, one day maybe, you will spit my name from between your teeth. As I show you just how many mysteries can reside inside a man such as me.

Young wild and free, with intuitive eyes I often see, what others can only try and perceive. Attempt to hide, and shroud your mind in structured subtlety.

Overt your eyes away from mine, if you do not wish for me to see. Because this is the gift God has given me. And to not use it is to deny both the former and the present me. Like the blue in my eyes, know this. I see.

I cannot clear the palate of my mind with all of this noisy taste embodied.

It’s not about romanticizing the failure
But realizing the redundancy
The struggle to be thankful and kind
In a world full of fleeting feelings blind

Mind you

Encouragement often flees from truth
And the staying therein of proof
Is what's easier said than done
Not to mention most often true

Mirrored like a windowpane
I know you’re there, but not at all
No great height at last it would be
To fall like this, endlessly
Into the wellspring of it all
But to a craft and wet stone be
The way you hone the idea smooth
Like a riverbed, put me to rest
And toss me as a stone unto
And in doing so
Smooth me into you

No more multitude of messages
Wasted words poured down a cavernous collapsing career of communication
Instead, crashing doors will be all in ears
Reverberating, on the day I leave this place for you

Quiet lips
I want to kiss
More than any girl right now
I miss
The silent whispers in the trees
The quiet hour on the back of the moon
And my ears full of you
Miss nothingness
How your quiet lips find only words
And thoughts within
To manifest
How I miss you now like I’ve missed my room
And the space within
To acquiesce

I miss the way we used to sit
How you'd fall asleep on my shoulder cold

How you quietly would look at me, and I at you, because we'd know

I miss the everyday secret things
Which we used to do and could've been

With a oneness and once unified breath
I miss these more than anything

Would you find me a girl with the bravery and boldness of a Coraline Jones's heart?
Not someone who demands my attentive love or the backing of a musical score.
But someone real.
Someone who knows every deep and dark and shallow fear.
Someone particular and peculiar.
Who perhaps I can make a cheese omelette for.

She is nothing more
Than a playlist in a database
Which I never adored

Stored away in an ancient file on an aged server
But the list remains there anyway
Be it out of respect

So you need not worry about such a voice
Interjecting itself back into my life

When the truth is that
I know the sound which a whole heart makes
And hers was fragmented
By the pain which she always put on repeat

You are pure sunlight
With no oath to shine
And yours is the only reflection I see
In the moon sometimes
When the night is young and hopeful
When all is everything and in infinite time
You'll question no such reflective being
But instead open seeing and find

Buttons couldn't describe you,
Nor a picture or portrait to compare.
Your smile indescribable,
Neath iron straightened golden hair.

A shadow in your eyes I see,
Your arm inscribed serendipity.
An unforgotten commodity,
An awe inspired oddity,
But what aspires you to me,
Is the winding way your eyes did see.

Before the corner first was turned,
Before the present came to be.
What was the sight which turned your way?
What overshadowed your luminosity?

I wish my friend that you would smile,
For everyone not just for me.
In light of this stay positive,
And smile miss serendipity.

This sunrise is very beautiful
With a hue of pink and a rareness which
Befits the weariness of red eyes

As slowly over the Catskills she
Rises and resides
Until she can be seen within the sky

Pure as almond and ivory  
Backed by the dawn and the day alike

Who am I to stand here in her way?
Who am I to say that she shouldn’t try?

I can only trust and occasionally wish
That she would honor me with a simple kiss
Of morning dew, and a smile wide

For that, in this, my morning eyes  
Would bring great joy to me in my life

Certain songs
Set off steps

Satin steps
Across the wall

Climb the house
From the inside out

Fred, my friend
You out rotate them all