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Our fingers,
touch it the most.
We show it off,
ready to boast.
Depression, a mess,
when lost from our tips.
Rain or harm,
it must not slip.
Hold it close,
a protective grip.

It makes us smile,
forget the sorrows.
Temporarily glides,
us to tomorrow.

Helps with decisions,
remembers us.
Knows what we like,
what sets us apart.

We share with it,
the feel of it.

Your loved one,
or your phone.
The decision,
is yours to own.

What is it?
<3 or [ ]
Is it perfect, did I get it right?
Missing pieces, relatable feels.
Sweaty palms, panic, fright.
Heart jumps back, chest reels.

Incomplete, forever it will be,
blinded by the daunting fear.
No one’s work, is mastery,
others judge it, don’t you see?

Self improvement guide’s,
our next steps towards,
the best self versions,
as we move forward.

Waiting for approval,
justified by the few,
who never truly,
understand you.

They say less is more,
but there is more in less,
so how do you choose your words?
To not be left with regret!

My words are for the amateurs,
critics step aside,
together our words will flourish,
together we realize.

Get it out the door, they
say you only live once.
Continue writing more,
go on inspire on!
Strange place, strange ways, each stay away!
Then why are there two roads to take?

The maps and paths, and followed tracks.
And Google, Waze, we trust their facts.
Turn left, turn right we let it steer.
To miss a turn, we start to fear.

Across to tolls, collect control.
Like little soldiers, do as told.
Planned flights and crowds, comfort in traps.
Are we confined in our skin wraps?

Some lost, pretend to just be found.
Some found, act lost, pretty profound.
To take that step, the unprotected.
To turn towards, the unexpected.
A wasteful plan, we must forget it.
Insane repeat, and do we test it?

Misdirection, to find us love.
Misdirection, to find us trends.
Misdirection, finds ideas.
Misdirection, to find us friends.
Misdirection to free in stress.
Misdirection leaves no regrets.

Let one misdirection find you.
Let one misdirection guide you.
Let one misdirection define
And be the reason, you are you.
My eyes gaze over the table of food through the company and off into the distance beyond the mildew on the walls.

I would feel more comfortable collecting the cobwebs from this basement ceiling.

Instead, I try hard to seem interested in what others are saying while avoiding eye contact, and -

BANG!! It's time to eat. The moment I've been most waiting for. Now I can concentrate on the food and do what I really came for.

Never eat and run though. It's time to act interested in the others once more.

Karaoke. Who doesn't love an overly enthusiastic host hoisting a microphone in their face?

Thanks for the food but I don't feel like singing a Kenny Rogers song or a whoever the **** song of some twit whose been in the top 40 within the past 5 years, or 20 for that matter.

Thank Jupiter they are distracted. Now is my chance to slip out quietly. I make it out the door and find out that someone parked behind me.

what else do you got in that cd case? Any Conway Twitty by chance? Oh really. **** it, I'm next
Eyes are beautiful, crystalline structures yet somehow rounded.
Eyes are poetic.
But there are some eyes
That you can truly see the stars in.
You can see the universe bubbling down the river of time,
Our planet twirling its way through the ballroom of our solar system
You can see everything inside, a window.
But at the same time, you can see everything out of it, too.
I can see myself within.
My own hopes, my own memories
Cast back at me with a fresh perspective
*The stars are in your eyes,
So be careful not to be blinded.
To flowers
You were my moment of weakness
unsuspecting, unknowingly
relentless with your charm
triggering my hearts alarm
Years of building walls
hours spent reminding myself
that the doors to love have closed
then you come along
and suddenly I'm exposed
Opening doors
knocking down walls
falling in love beneath waterfalls
just as we were drowning
in hurt and pain
love comes knocking again
You were my moment of weakness
and now my life is just moments
beneath waterfalls
falling in love all over again
Each to do in the morn
he stays focused on
still suffers the nagging doubt
something he's leaving out.

Morn is the rush hour.

giving the parrots a shower
feeding budgies making tea
making things for office ready.

Morn is the time for hurried food.

foul temper sullen mood
in the monstrous urgency
forgetting all decency.

The volatile morn fast departs.

it's enough if on time he starts
for a place he must be for hours' grind
leaving nothing behind *but his mind!
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