one day (or night)
it hits you
(the feeling that you are not alone anymore)
and even though you were never afraid of
(loneliness)
you don't want to feel it anymore

Some nights I shade
my eyes
from dark dreams
like a broken hawk's wing
stuck in the hot tar
of a back country road
when sleep seems
like a long ways to go
in a bad war
and desire and desire
and desire like a fire
in my bones
won't leave me alone.

Time is a witness
to the mark of the moth
in my hair, and I swear
the nights are getting longer

I keep putting it off
hoping I would discover
a star no one knew was there

and I can only wonder why
the bluebirds die
on the power lines singing

if god had a heart
he'd take me instead
and put a thirty ought six
straight through my chest

just for believing
that somewhere there's a nest
with my name on it.

i just want you to know right now
i’m grateful for the time i’ll spend writing you
because for too long i’ve been sticking glorified memories into the sunlight and naming them love
like it was alright to lose because the world was just teaching me a lesson in resilience every time i fell for someone with nothing but gravity to catch me
like it was all just practice for a hurt much worse than that
like there’s a science to breaking ourselves for the sake of staying sane

we can call our wounds victories so long as we shed a tear or two and didn't drown
and we can stick a bandage to the broken parts and pretend we’ve been having too much fun with the red finger paint but
we both know we outgrew creative solutions long before this
long before we outgrew each other

but from now on we’re done talking about the past like it’s still in front of us
done pretending like we aren’t getting enough of our share of the sun
my dear, we are not the footnotes of our own narratives
so quit letting a shortness of breath steal the stories you’ve been trying to say to the world
you can go tell the thunder its voice can’t even compare to your storytelling
tell the Rockies they’ve got nothing on your cliffhangers
nature’s never had to nurture your wounded imagination
you did that on your own

from now on
we’re gonna be beautiful without an explanation
who said these words ever had to make sense of themselves
who said any of us ever had to do the same
i swear on all the languages i'll never come to understand
these pages are gonna remember us
even when we cannot hold our pens without shaking
the ink's gonna dry and we will too but on everything
i promise something is gonna stay

Somewhere between the words that we speak and the echoes of what remains unsaid, there is an opening waiting for some truth to be revealed.

Consider this.

In the morning, love is two particles waving in and out of reality, two particles beyond the conceptions of space and time.  In the night, love tip-toes across the moon, and at some random point seeps into the dreams of those who sleep alone.

I was sleeping alone the night you passed away.  I left many things echoing in the opening where the unsaids go to peacefully die.  You know, the imaginary space and how it all dissolves somewhere between your perception and mine.  

I went to sleep the night after you died, and you were waiting for me in a canyon covered with gold.  The water, fresh and crisp, and we could not stop jumping from the top of the waterfall to the clear green pool below.  

There were no words between us, no conceptions of space or time.  I remember the feeling of the sparkling paint and foreign images engraved into the gold stone walls, how we leaped from part of the canyon to the next.  

I remember this, the last collision of your perception and mine, an opening in an imaginary canyon where the unsaids go because they don't want to die.

I think this means you forgive me, even though I haven't yet committed the crime.  

I'm still considering this.

Somewhere between the things we believe are real and the things that do actually exist, there is an opening, a canyon, and a beautiful waterfall.  

I think you still visit there from time to time, and I would like to go once more, too.

The only problem is, every time I try to speak, the truth forgets, the opening is dissolved.

Her footsteps were as light as could be
as she ran across the void,
glowing in the cloudless night
as far as the eye could see.
She stopped slowly, eyes wide with realization,
She could be free.

So, she stood, head held high;
Shoulders stiff, holding the weight of the sky,
as she faced her labyrinth of pain.
Of lies and suffering.
Of utter agony.

She let not one tear fall
as she walked on,
determined to flee from the place
she had once called her safe haven.

They never did see her again.
She disappeared without a trace.
Lost inside her own mind, they said.

Oh well,
She was one of many they had to pull the plug on.

She wouldn’t notice it anyway.

They never did.

God, im alittle drunk and I hear your crickets
They sound like sci fi reads
And it makes me smile.
They seem like a reminder of the woman in bed waiting for me to finish my cigarette.
Im laughing because I am so happy
God
Is that something your science projects usually do?
If you are out there....
Thank you