This February sky is mad and beautiful
and I want to hold its stars in my mouth.
I want to cough them up into new constellations,
spit out the blackness
That gets caught in the back of my throat.
Feel the cold of the moon under my tongue
While the galaxies swirl in my stomach
twisting my insides into new knots
While I know that inside me
There is the potential to create
New worlds, new stars
I breathe in the light studded darkness
Close my eyes and see the night sky
That has made it’s home within me.
I may not be a constellation,
But I could be.

I find myself the poor and hapless victim, of your love
My heart now beats alone, to my dismay
But hearts will soon sucumb, to the things they’re victim of
And mine is fast approaching, an anguished judgement day
Within my mind I view my life in broad, and bold tableau
A panoramic tapestry, of guilt
Condemned to live at least for now, within the status quo
Behind these solid prison walls, I find my heart has built

Desire and I have fought at length, and come to no decision
No answers to the questions we engage
In fact at times I hear my heart in silent, cruel derision
That memories of you, have no hope.. to soon assuage
Relieve the endless, sleepless nights.. alone has come to be
Without you here, to ease my troubled mind
The tears that fall in pairs, drop two by two.. relentlessly
Eyes hold no remorse, for those already shed, I find

And so tonight I’ll lie beside my fire yet once again
While you and your devices plot intrigue
My hopes have drifted with the smoke, to dissipate disdain
It’s will to fight against the wind, left perfectly fatigued
Perhaps one day I’ll witness restless memories depart
I’ll know the reasons why love sought retreat
But for now, remain the hopeless victim of your heart
Alone in purdah, Six, one, forty five..
on 2nd street...
“Please pick up the phone..
Hello?..hello”..
(click)

Dean Evans
2-02-15

In gentle stillness
Everything hurts.
I move so quickly
I fall down harder.
I stop completely
As the world goes by.
When I finally find
A perfect balance,
Everything becomes sharp
And slowly I bleed.

The two words I know you can’t stand,
The words that means there’s a possibility that we won’t be together.
For now, I guess you can say is temporary; An uncertainty of what could be, or could happen.
For Now, is my security blanket?
My love is real, and it will last until you no longer want it. So when I say for now I mean;
For now we are together,
For now, we are in love, because nobody knows how long that may last.
For now, I only want you, for now we’re happy.
For now, my heart won’t break,
For now, for now, for now because we’re only human and as humans we change our minds a lot.
So I guess I will love until I’m unloved,
I will feel until I no longer feel anything,
I will miss you because for now, I don’t have you here with me.
Even though I say for now, I really mean forever but forever,
Means commitment that only for now, we say we want but
I’m happy with what we share and hopeful one day for now will be adolescent words of confession.
But until then Ima have to say
For now….

my heart is paper
and I have no eraser
to rid it of your words
so there they'll stay, I suppose
they sound nice together
my heartbeat and your words

The postmodernists claim that man is little more than a confluence of forces.
Metanarratives absorbed around the age of four
developed in tandem with an ever-changing world.
Old ideas replanted then growing toward the rays of a shifting sun.
Your ideas are not your own.
You're not the only one.
There is no such thing as an original thought.
But the postmodernists are wrong.
A confluence of forces,
I am not.

Existentialism states that a man's life is his to create.
We make our own meaning.
We define the stakes.
Whether a great victory or a tragic loss,
but never merely a leaf being tossed by the wind.
Everyday is a blank page in the novel of our lives,
and we hold the pen.