I sympathize with you.
Never have you thought
Not to experience this way of life.
You are well adjusted
In a maladjusted paradigm.
I sympathize with the shallow extent
Of your imagination and humbly I accept
The token of our silent agreement.
While you mope, drool, ogle
And taste success with the tip of your tongue,
I will be knee deep in the trenches.
Dodging light speed arrows,
Defusing air bending whistling apples
Thrown from afar
In the safety of paper walls.
Built to repel the mirrored image
Yet pale enough to distort what you see.
I humbly accept the quest you have entrusted me with
To seek and return
With the noble self you abandoned in the forests;
When you grew tired of discovery.
Should I return with the gift as promised,
Then I have failed you.
For I have given up my search
And named the last I saw and felt as that I sought.
By the grace of the most high,
The hidden observer;
Lost to a ripple of self inflicting wounds guised as judgement,
A lever as light as a feather,
"By the grace of the most high,
Should I not return then I have failed you once more.
I have failed to find something you thought you lost,
Yet still resides within us all."

You're so bad at hiding feelings.
But this you hide from me.
You stopped wearing your heart
On your sleeves for me to read.
Now I have to ask.

Maybe you're not hiding
And I'm the one in love.
I promised I wouldn't fall for you
And crash into your timid heart
With nothing to break my fall.

I'd feel your heartbeat
Shaking me like an earthquake
And I wouldn't know
If you're infatuated Or afraid.
We both don't understand you.

But all I know for sure is this
That It has nothing to do with me
Because I fell in love with a sad girl.

We're Passively going with the flow
With the resonating notion
That "maybe I should be  
more like me
And less like you "

But nobody allows it
And it takes a faith
That you won't find in church
'Cause even Christians love you
Only to change you

So Destroy the subliminal slavery
And this we'll begin to see:
That Conformists will be lost
And Indiviuals will be Free

They will flourish
From every end of the earth
Doing whatever it is they desire
Without transgressing what is right.

This would be our souls' freedom
But we're outnumbered by them,
Them that are afraid of being free
Knowing well they'd really be lost.

Never have I felt this way.
Torn apart by conflicting certainties.
Not by any means did I foresee this day,
A sterling heart pillaged and rendered speechless.

Purged of freedom I bend a knee to silence;
In worship of a cowardice tongue.
Now I lay in wait for a priestess sent to cushion my tears
And wrinkle my fears like a prune beneath the sun.

When words fail you, as they have I, like drought stricken
Crops; look no further than your heart.
Listen not for words, but to the pulsating rhythm
Of wanting to be alive. Therein lies the sought.

And In this fitting union of unorthodox souls;
Carry the torch and I'll see to it that this flame endures.

do you think you'll ever lay her to rest?
allow her to sleep?
she's stayed awake for months on end
and every time she tried to close her eyes
you shook her awake
again

telling just one more tale
one more tall story
one more lie
that we must all
simply listen to

listen to this little ditty
i'm sure you'll recall it
once i'm done
do you remember the time we...?
no.. not really..

without sleep
all she sees are hallucinations
disjointed recollections
of the tissue paper life
that blows..

in the breeze

did you know
sleep deprivation
is a form of torture?

and you have kept her up
long enough

and she's tired of being worn
like an overcoat
as your splendid outer garment
in all it's melancholy finery
passersby remark
on how well you wear her
and you have the audacity to say
'Oh this old thing'

she's wearing thin and eventually
she'll disappear
altogether

she's becoming threadbare in places
and no matter how tightly
you wrap yourself up in her
she won't keep you warm

but that's only because
you don't want her to get warm
or let her go to sleep
you just won't let her rest in peace
will you

Appeared infront, just appeared;
Foot prints left behind her,
came closer as possible,
fresh wind stricking me,
world is now under my foot; realized
because she is right infront of me!!

If i could tell you about her
And I think I should..
I would say that she's a waterfall.
And although most would see that in her hair
I see it in the way her freckles fall from her eyes.
I see her lips stand out bold and red
Like a stone edged into the cliff
And In all her majesty,
She's intimate..
Intimate With herself
And  in seeing that intimacy
I can only imagine that the intimacy might one day be granted to me by another that's like a waterfall..
But I know it won't be her.

In a field
Turn round and around
Until the sky becomes the earth
Until the wind becomes
The motion to carry a thought
Until love moves at the speed of sound and rests upon a star
And falls on solid ground
With a blanket of the heaven to break its fall