It started in the night and continued through the day. The wish to find my running shoes and throw it all away. To head towards the setting light in search of a familiar face. Only stopping for a moment to check if my shoes were truly laced. Finding only that my soul continues to wear with every passionate stride. Falling apart to the rhythmic concrete as my laces became untied. Reaffirming my life’s simple intent with every double knot. To find the life my days and nights had truly ever sought. So with tightened lace and replaced tongue, I bandage my blisters and refill my lungs. Hoping their overuse will lead me away, towards life greatest intent found in my nights and days. And as my blisters bleed again and my soul starts to rip, my lungs begin to give and my tongue finally slips. The winding road roughens and the weather begins to shift, as the distance of my journey becomes my life’s greatest shrift. Persevering for the days and nights that I simply would not act, and would only settle willingly on my life's beautiful abstract. And so I struggle through the pain in search of my perfect pace, which could lead me to my destination and the life I seem to chase. But the journey itself does not begin until I abandon my old ruse, and replace them with the souls of my used running shoes.

I fear the light with the sun and the dew. I fear my echoes that they might wake you.

I fear last night and I fear today. I fear the word that my motivations make us say.

I fear my regrets and I fear their truth. I fear that your maturity overpowers my youth.

I fear your thoughts and I fear your mind. I fear my willingness to be unapologetically kind.

I fear the silence that always rings through. I fear the awkward smiles they force out of you.

I fear my affections and how I react. I fear that my actions wont leave me intact.

I fear the road and I fear its end. I fear the message my silence will send.

I fear your love and I fear my pain. I fear the stillness that comes with the rain.

I fear my inaction and I fear my lingering hand. I fear where my emotions force me to stand.

I fear your smile and I fear his too. I fear the backstabbing that I just went through.

I fear my relations and their impact on me. I fear their power to bring me to my knee.

I fear the future and I fear my heart. I fear not returning from what was my start.

I fear my life and the time on my clock. I fear there is no one who can listen to me talk.

I fear my words and I fear yours too. I fear I have lost all trust in me and you.

I have to don the face of madness when I encounter your shadow. Held back only when that shadow pulls a 180. And though I cannot hold the hand of this shadow and spin madly on with it. I grasp unwillingly to the hand that catches my grip. Catches my palm, catches my five reasons for holding on. Because your shadow is the only shade of you I can seem to handle. The one I wait on to signal the coming of a new day. The only one I hold my breath for because it holds no breath at all. But rather the idea of catching up to someone whom I wish to see vanish. No, I hold no distain towards you and no pleasure in seeing the shadowy curves of you saunter off into the sun. No I do not hold regret in the distance found between your shadow and I, because that distance cant seem to multiply fast enough for my liking. And though the closer and closer you get to that sun represents sunshine entering my life again, it will never be enough. Because even when you walk head first into that sun I know your every molecule is still floating in this endless universe of ours. I will never be without your presence, I will never be without your shadow, I will never be without you haunting my every thought. For no matter the alcohol consumed, cannabis smoked, and concussions sustained I will never be able to put a scratch on the lyrical nightmare that was our song. That was our time together, and though I try and play DJ and put a positive spin on our song…Im reminded that it once was played. So I look for your shadow every night and every day. Not for torment sake but for the little sanity that remains to show me that the monster that was once my love can be slain again, and again, and again. And though it keeps returning I remind myself the difference between your darkness and my light is exactly 180 degrees.

My expectations take flight as we wonder through this once youthful and promising night. The only hope for a tomorrow comes with forbidden touch and a forbidden, connected sight. Longing for a quiet moment alone as your eyes slowly shift to meet mine. Connected hands pulling from considerable constrains as the clock gradually strikes nine. The world begins to slow as if to say there may not be another.  Or rather there may not be another one worth your passion now uncovered. Resurrected from our past as our softened minds are kept in a hazy check. By wondering eyes, unreciprocated passions, and friendly arm around our neck. And though instants stole in the shadow of the masses bring forbidden thoughts to light. Kinship to another uncovers doubt with a strong, unrelenting might. Unremitting hesitation as we’re forced to balance our duty and what we know as true. To those we brought to conquer the night and to our passions we wish to pursue. And as our night moves towards dawn we watch the other move along, towards a night of least resistance. With once promising passion now unwillingly forgone, and the other lost to the distance. Slowly awakening to our regret as the other does the same. Wondering if the night was different could our lust have been ours to claim. Would our desire to move beyond our duties have been made with worth and good intent. With others consent and no argument for the decisions we now circumvent. So with our train of thought chasing an end to our sorrow filled silence we search for just one more glance. Only to find remorse and a white flag waving reluctantly at our lost chance. And as the metal doors close on our promising night we wonder could this have been real. As I steal one more glance with the turning of the wheels putting miles towards our past so surreal. Hoping only for fate to smile again and give our passions a chance once more. Of a night filled with desire, lust, and affection that our destiny wishes to restore.

Oh, I got that feeling again. I’ve been staring at the ceiling again. Letting my heart take flight, as the music reaches its height, taking my thoughts out of minds’ sight. But this feeling I now fight, cannot be controlled. Cannot be moved, overcome, or even forced to fold. Gripping my ever-changing soul and forcing my hands. As my breath leaves my body and my feet forget to stand. Hands pushed to speak through the letters they find. Putting feelings to words that cant seem to speak my mind. Frustrated by my inaction, that passively takes form. In the words I now force to unwilling conform. To these one-inch margins that box in my thoughts, constricting my deepest feelings and simplify life’s plot. All perpetuated by the rhythm, of the ever-spinning fan. Mounted just above my bed, that seems to hypnotize what’s in my head. Threading image to feeling, and my feelings to my words. As the tapestry of us, now resembles fleeing birds. Each winged reminisce that has forever taken flight, a moment in time that will always hold spite. Towards cliffs edge that stands between what the heart seeks. And a mans inability to step beyond its daunting peak. So with time ticking down and our future running by, I stand at a distance and continue our little lie. One living in the shadows of nights eternally pasted on, when passions ignited without though of our coming dawn. Only of the connection made with courage in hand, liquefied to motivate beyond what history had banned. What allies once forbid and witnesses cheered on, inhibition finding wind and politics forgone. Now forced to be nothing more then memories in the sand, as our hourglass approaches empty and my thoughts continue to be fanned. Continue to find rhythm as the blades spin madly by, ticking down to a day when I cannot take the lie. Cannot take this falsehood that pushes me from behind, as I approach that daunting edge of my own terrified mind. So with time in short supply along with my pride, I put black to white and our segregation aside. In the hopes that time stands still for just a moment more, to help you understand that it is you I adore.

I have read my last cliché line, and spoke my last ambiguous truth.  I’ve found the lack of principle in mankind, comes in both old age and in youth. One born from lack of days, passing beyond so few a night. The other hardened from too many wrongs, being passed along as ubiquitous rights. Truth finding no firm a ground, to grow without contempt. From those whole look to yield its might, and twist it with malicious intent. Those footed in ill-fated hypocrisy, both by practice and in speech. Principle scorn from lips once pure, forged by what life’s path can teach. And though the values of an honorable man preside, at the conclusion of every poetic line. The truth that’s found between each word, can make a man think he is divine. Spoken with word as sweat as red wine, he believes the world drink with thirst. Or so thinks the man who speaks frivolously, without hearing his own words first. So he drinks in his own narcissism, as his words ring forever true. In his nostalgic mind that never changes, or lets in sound anew. And that once juvenile and prospective boy, whose suns were few to shine. Has become a toughened old man, whose life has yet to be defined. By a principle worth shouting, to the heavens and beyond. Beyond his many nights and far more days, who hold to him a bond. Of servitude to his truth, regardless of its legitimacy. That which forges what will be his legacy, for everyone to see.

Sparks begin to rage, and cluster on my skin. Scars begin to form, as my demons begin to win.
The pain begins to bubble, blistering from within.  Scabs begin to show, as I bleed forth all my sins.
Evil finds it breath, and a fire now ensues. Throwing water on a blaze, though I know I’m going to lose.
Burning deep within, as my burdens begins to fade. Though the wounds are in the past, the coals become a new shade.
Glowing florescent green and blue, with intensity brand new. As gasoline is thrown unknowingly, by the choices I pursue.
My misconfigured body, has taken on new shape. For the blazing inferno controls me now, as my body is relentlessly *****.
Scorched by my own hand, as no bandage can be of aid. Praying for the ashes and the shimmering remnants to fade.
Clutching to my body, and holding to what’s left. Fragments of a soul remain, as the fire plagues me with theft.
Taking from me my sanity, and all hope of escaping hell. And leaving my charred remains, in this blackened and empty shell.
And from darkened knee I arise, with embers still alit. And dust from me an ashy cover, though my eternal sentence not remit.