you're in paradise, but still calling out to me
you see, i don' have a problem, crossing the sea
i'd do it for you, within a single beat of my heart
that way, our souls would never have to part

i'd like it that way, you know, you and me
you've shown you don't have a problem, crossing the sea
you'd do it too, within a single beat of your heart
so why, why... do you demand we must be apart?

i'm sickenly optimistic
not one to be very cryptic
let me show you, just how much
just feel this friction in our touch...

feel that? yeah, that's it.
i know it's hard to admit.

on grassy lawns
and rolling fields
a blanket of flowers
a blanket of ice
florida snow seems so strange

flowers in the middle of december

human hearts yearn.
when not a plea remains,

beating ceases.

it'd be a luxury to forget you
the depth of your callouses
the unevenness of your smile
the smoke on your breathe
those wooden coffee tables
carved with our dreams
in sickness and in health
we embraced it all.

it'd be a luxury to forget you
that constant burn like nicotine
that hot fire on your lips
driven by desire and passion
your strength to push me away
your eyes to draw me in
penniless and not worried
in our arms, we had it all.

it'd be a luxury to forget you
black sunglasses, fedora hats and all
your swift, careless motions
slow and tedious habits
a weakness for women
and their weakness for you
to have and to hold you
we knew, we could have it all.

it'd be a luxury to forget you
crumble those old photos
pour gas on those memories
tear that plane ticket in half
reach in and crush my heart
dagger first, scramble my brain
from this day forward
until death do us part, we'll remember it all.

it'd be a luxury to forget you,
one that i do not have.

The cream lace dress falls to the floor.
The bright morning light fills the empty spaces.
The many layers pool around my feet.
The structure, the texture, the workmanship.
They all fill me with delight and splendid wonder.
I throw my head back and gently close my eyes.
I wonder how my mother felt in this dress.
Her dress.
Many years ago.
When she danced with my daddy at the prom.
Looking into his big, brown eyes,
Lacing her fingers together around his strong neck,
His hands placed ever so lightly on her small waist,
I wonder if she loved him then.
I wonder if she always had.
And always would.
I never knew my mother.
From the pictures, I could tell she was beautiful.
I never felt a true connection with her,
Although I had longed to.
Until I tried on the cream lace dress.
Her cream lace dress.
I felt like she, instead of the fabric,
Was wrapped around me.
Embracing me tightly.
I never want to lose her,
Even though I never truly knew her.
But this dress,
Her dress,
Allowed me to find what was always lost.

you are absolutely necessary and utterly unimportant.
you are not important because
everything is important and important means
you are better than the mud
you are not

i can say this because
i want to be content. and to be so
i think i must owe myself to everything. because every little piece makes the puzzle, every tiny drop of paint changes the color, whether
you or
i can see it. down to the atom, every rock that
i step on, every bird in my ear, every bearable sting of guilt felt from swatting a fly, they have worked in perfect proportion, each paint drops precisely suffused to the present shade of my experience. and if
i am to be at peace, my life should not be measured but
i must be accepting of
everything as it comes.
i find this possible in realizing that the stretch in my smile and the tears on my cheek are all just as needed in shading me. no single experience makes the man.  and to be accepting of the summation
i must accept that every single experience in my collective past was utterly necessary. every single experience, and each minor detail of each experience, and how they  scatter on the surface like little melting beads, and how they eventually sink and mix; all single molecules of paint diffusing in the only proportion to make the present shade of my life, none more important than the other, down to the atom, ultimately equal.
not in quantity, but in quality
everything equal. what it means is that
i love you. but
i love the sweat greased ball bearings of dirt in my boot
i love the percussion of infection drenched nerves in my foot
i love the salt stick of your skin and staunch of your cough as you beat through the barreling wind. and
i love the invisible river of shivering brush waving like cilia down the valley. into the bioluminescence of our L.A. colony.
i love you if you love me and
i love you if
you hate me.  because even your hate will drop like paint into me and change the shade to something
i have not yet seen.
i know we have different eyes but
i think this works for mine.
i will love you in equivalence to every molecule
i breathe.
utterly unimportant and absolutely necessary.