Everyday my life shortens,
My happiness shimmers with the thought of "my day" approaching,
The chill running down my spine, reverts,
My hands tremble, as the fragrance of her hair breezes passed every sense of my body,
I stumble with weak knees, as her voice echoes through these drums,
My periferrels focus on her figure and send butterflies to my empty gut,
These eyes see differently; each day passes again and again,
It's no longer Love that gasses this heart,
But the motivation of one day filling the hole that lingers in the shallows of my soul,
I have transformed for that day, specifically,
In a way, I have failed,
I am vulnerable and my feelings are surfaced and exposed,
My inner sores are doomed by a heart that defends this castle, no more,
But, I will move passed this spinning clock; it is my time,
Living in doubt is drowning yourself in denial,
Living in fear of denial is breathing in counterless distress,
No more knots,
No more heavy pockets,
Live weightless,
Live free!

You know that she is gone,
You know it won't work out,
But still, your heart gives you a reason to keep trying,
A signal inside your head that tells you she is the one,
Her smile,
Her laugh,
The way she looks at you,
You're hooked,
But it's all part of her game, with only one handicap,
You can't win,
There is a glitch,
A reason to give up and accept defeat,
But, you have this feeling that you'll pull through,
Your heart is extremely sensitive, it's fuzzy,
Although her heart has its mind on something different,
She wants a present,
A today,
A living in every moment attitude,
You desire a future,
You blow it,
You back off,
But you don't completely remove your being from this game,
You simply play it safe with all intentions of succeeding,
You smile,
She laughs,
The atmosphere is morphing from misty to foggy,
Suddenly, you cannot see her,
She walks away,
You stand there with a dying rose, slowly descending from behind your back, to the cold Earth,
That's it,
You failed the system,
Your fuzziness turns to streaks of lightning,
But,
You win,
No tears,
No regrets,
Just a motive to move on,
You now live as she does,
I'm here,
Today,
Right now,
I'm not there in ten minutes,
I live for this moment,
The future was just an obsession,
But that obsession chases snakes, as you fall into your comfort zone,
I say goodbye to my obsessions,
Hello obsessers,
What are you doing, today?

Inside, I’m a house-cat with claws like Hugh Jackman- he’s been waiting on hold for an hour and a half.

I’m a Ghost-type Pokemon wearing a powder blue LT jersey from a time when JT was all glamour shots.

Today I’ll smoke a bowl next to my open window and then spend the entire night hoping my parents stay brainwashed by the Smart TV.

How come all the advertisements on the side of each website I view are related to me in some way or form?

Sometimes I have dreams about shadow monsters hanging out with my Cookie Monster doll.

When I sob my father’s name, it responds by tickling my toes at the end of the bed and twisting my ******* when I fall back to sleep.

My ears are like Batman’s pet bat, except in this world my eyes accumulate wax.

I’m a house-cat hopped up on cat-nip and I can’t sleep so let me be.

How many Someone’s lay planked on their waist and stare aimlessly at the candle’s flame?

Who of You is daring enough to close Your eyes and in space alone, simply drive- drive away?

The same Someone’s and Who’s-of-Who’s, on occasion holler at the moon with expectation of a bark back; or is God but a prestige to fools that We allow to wear Normal on Their crummy ******* name tags?

Sometime around Christmas there is a salivating peace, sifting downward on ordinary people, whom really don’t feel like being cold, you know?

This is me, rotting away on the carpet, a blanket’s blanky for the floor, just staring through the shutters on the vent below my brow; in the reality of it, I should probably schedule a spring cleaning…not for the vent folks.

You see- and I’m trying to be as casual as I can- I’m about to ******* pass out, you know what I’m saying?

This is that incredible moment where I’m the Bob Feller of dozing off, 9 innings of shut-eye talent, but at 2 or 3 in the morning…it looks as though I’m bringing in Mariano Rivera to close it out,

I can almost smell the scraps of mowed grass, kicking up from his cleats as he jogs closer to where home is; I never really find out if he makes it to the mound…