I find myself needing to put to paper all the mess that can’t organize itself in my brain.
I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this
It’s nothing poetic, let alone inspiring. Inspired, perhaps.
Yes
Inspired by moonlight
My tired eyes can’t seem to find a way out of the sadness they held for too long. But they’re slowly learning to fall in love again, the same way my heart is.
I’m trying to learn to be strong, baby. I’m teaching myself to be strong for you.
I’m teaching myself to play a song
For you
The lyrics forcing themselves out of your speakers know exactly what to say. They speak our feelings for us. They know what’s in our hearts.
You told me that you feel things. Baby, I think I have that same sickness. It’s the kind that lives in your heart.
If it’s what I’m thinking of, be prepared for trouble. For aching. For longing. Be prepared for words I can’t even begin to remember until they’re there on my lips.
Be prepared for joy. For unvanquished optimism. For the kind of longing that aches in the most beautiful way.

there were weeks there
where all i wanted was to be in my childhood home
amongst my books and pictures and comfortable nostalgia,
but the winds are changing.
my world is changing while i am still.
the mountains are calling for me,
"why haven't you returned?" they query.
who couldn't despise the cold any more than I,
yet now all i long for is the shivering embrace of the north.
somehow my heart becomes solid,
frozen and invincible, like the river that rushes beneath me
as i take my place along the train tracks
and feel the earth singing to me.
the time has come to run away from home.
my ears miss that howling whistle,
my skin yearns for that long gust of far-traveled air.
that rush of vibration, that ache for forward motion.
i need to be back at that spot on the tracks
to slow my pulse and make me feel alive,
shake open my lungs, shake open my heart.
i see myself as that winding train
sprinting along the river, waving goodbye to that deep city below,
running away from each frozen station
never looking back, but always coming home.
i want to come home to my mountains.

Oh what a mess you’ve placed before me
What a body I lust for
It didn’t take me long to get lost
And the danger you brought
Is only the beginning
Will the end come as hastily as the beginning?
Or will I always be bound to indecisive confusion
Stuck reaching for a perfection I’ll never find

We couldn’t so quickly hide from the cool evening sun
But the rest of the world was blind
To our blatant hunger for night
Yet since we had to settle in abandoned lots
We fed each other in quiet passion
And deepened a hole that was dug
One lonely night that never should have been
And so, in that hole, our quiet mess will sit

I smoked a cigarette in Times Square
The streets seemed light as day
With the full moon joining in on the neon party above
I made my way underground
And the subway rattled and swayed its way to Queens
Then I emerged to see your bright silhouette
Your fingers touched the sky
And I could have held you all night on that sidewalk

I drank tea at your tiny kitchen table
The January skyline sat just outside your window
It was the first time the color grey made me smile
And your tiny frame continues to carry you through time
And in our worlds apart I’ve wondered if your city ever wonders about me
I wonder if you hold our short, quiet life together the way I do
Sometimes I wish it could have lasted
We could have hibernated
The skyline could have watched us from afar
As we held ourselves captive
Forever trapped in Queens

the cold presses against my skin
but the air is oddly calm for january
almost as though spring is trying to sneak in
a current of clouds slowly slides along the shores of the universe
covering the moon with a soft veil
her edges have softened and spread
her face is blurred and she has been disguised
her light, though, gives me life
it brightens the edges of those rough places
and in this winter air, i'm warm
i have freedom!
i'm flying
not far enough away for my heart
but far enough to give me hope
enough to get me high
and get me fast
and when my feet reach the ground again
i'll bask in moonlight
until i've got strength to continue

I can see so clearly through my window
that the lights are playing games with me
but your hands don't play games
they get straight to the point.
And our mouths meet
and you become serious and determined
and my breaths are jagged.
Your shoulders are home to constellations
your eyes are home to some kind of emptiness
and I am left wanting.

a perpetual force
some kind of factor
my reaction
will always be fear
cost means consequence
consequence means shattered dreams
slow motion second hands
throwing off the whole
clock
a minute costs a dollar
we'll never get anywhere
coffee goes in the gas tank
gasoline runs through our veins
everything breaks
and there's a cost
for every second that's repaired