A gathering storm,
called out to me,
in the voice of clouds:
             " Come out of gloom,
                and meet me, at once"
He too was in love,
buoyant and ready
for this adventure of passion,
breaking, if necessary
everything that stands
between him and his love.

                        There was a storm,
                        brewing in my heart too,
                                                        he knew,
fanning and spreading
  the fire of love
     faster than I can cope.
I ran out and flew
on the wings of the storm.
On the way to the mountains
we reached the rainbow's home,
where my love was waiting
in the wings,
for months of Sundays;
she was at the end of her tether.
                     We didn't have much time left
                        the looming shadow of death
                                 we saw south, at a  distance.
It didn't daunt us,
we dissolved in a flock of white doves-
jubilant white clouds that sailed towards east.
Above blue mountains
what a wonder, our love whispers were louder than thunder!
Then, softly we  fell as sad snow flakes,
on touching earth, we were drops of  sparkling dew.

you say i trust to equal those in the past
whom have brought only pain and hatred
upon those in their wake?
well it's time to take a look in the mirror
my friend, no, wait, don't do that,
i wouldn't want to inflate your ego
it would come as no surprise to me if in that
mirror you would only see the eighth wonder
of the world, ever wondered if you could see
the world? i take that back, there is no sense
in snapping and losing my temper,
but all i'm doing is back tracking and
finding my self exempt of the respect that i
deserve, only you can serve to notice
the pain that you have harboured
upon the empty hearts of which now yearn
for that ever self-loving and i can only leave
you with this advice

turn around and back off
that ain't love it's idolatry.

You almost kissed me,
and you shouldn't have.
On the gingham tablecloth in the yellow light,
you lifted me from the counter top onto my feet
putting your hat on my head and tickling my ribs.
You know it's my sweet spot,
leads straight to my heart if you're gentle enough.
I told you to stop and you walked away,
eyes lingering on my bare skin between where my top ended on my waist
and where my dark denim jeans began to hug my hips.
I flipped my hair back around, joining in some conversation too late
between a girl drunk on grape juice and a wedding crasher straggler
in a forest green flannel with camel cigarettes in the pocket.
That's when you came back over and started yelling
some story that happened to you the night before.
You told it well,
the circle captivated, me mesmerized
by how blue your eyes stayed all this time without me noticing.
You  had the whole room laughing with your wit and stupid vernacular,
but I was smiling because you looked so beautiful in those drunken
honest moments
where I recognized the person beneath the banter
where I saw you.
I was saying my goodbyes to the carhartt boys and their one night girls
when you grabbed me by the hand and spun me around
like we were dancing,
pulled me in by your hand pressed on my shoulder blades
the other around my waist
I gasped as your lips almost touched mine,
but then you looked down at me
with those same blue eyes
and took a deep breath,
slowly letting your hands glide down my back then to your sides.
I just stared back at you,
wishing you'd forget the logic and put your hands back where they were,
tracing your lips with that almost kiss,
and I could feel how much you wanted to be in this moment
desperately searching for a way to my lips
but something stopped us.
And I think it was because we knew it would only lead to something messier
than where we were at
it would be a backwards romance, reversing our ***** footsteps
in something we've tried and tried to understand
that it never works out the way either of us plans.
We were both doing so well, moving on
but in that moment we almost gave all that strength up
gave into something too tempting and too wrong.
Because we can't really stay away from each other all that long.
I mean,
you almost kissed me
and you shouldn't have,
but I swear
I wish you would have.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

and i’ve lived years of
turbulence; to be loc-
k’d out. problems str-
iking as an adder. pro-
blems adding to the
strike out. end of the
game we all play but
for the lone individ-
ual, and i was hand’d
the pack of smokes
with a ten wrap’d ‘ro-
und. not an act of for-
ced reliance. act of:
  – save your money.
     you need it more
     than i.
and i’ve learn’d to ac-
cept. to receive with
grace and charity, to
offer in grace and ch-
arity. that other ten
percent.       braking.
     January,
year prior, to be found
destitute yet suffer no
one’s restrictions. and
the numb fingers rem-
ind me of my obstina-
nce, remind me that
i’ve been made to suf-
fer the cold.
oh, how the frigid
men slept with a rotg-
ut shank prepared. en-
ding dreams in which
survival is their sunrise.
and i pull’d a scarf over
my face to obviate the
cold. and in the false
spring of year prior, the
trees were trick’d to
give up their leaves
budding life as an
early spring sacrifice.

My social skills are strong enough
I can live with parties & get togethers
But home is most comfortable
Even though my definition of home is weak
Home is where I can be alone
Certainly preferable
To small talk, oh how I hate small talk!
It's just a long road not worth the walk
Words are me when they are written, not spoken
And I'm the one who prefers to listen
Sit back and watch everyone else go
And I never liked putting labels on things
Too organized, not enough chaos
But as much as I try
My insecure human nature
It loves to name
And it names me an introvert
By the loosest definition
I don't want to name myself anything
I just want to be me
But even 'me' has been dibbed by labels
Not even 'I' is really mine
Because it is shared with everyone else
And the only way I feel better is
Is when I'm alone at 3: 26 a.m.
Where 'I' and 'me' feel like my own