i remember when the sky felt blue,
when the grass felt new,
when purple flowers newly blooming begged me for sufferance,
carrying a scent no one remembers and that cannot be replicated

the poles felt electric, the week felt ecclectic
the lights had color that the past took with it, whimsical,
fading
they took the time of day with them as the moon ascended
and the air began to smell of night

imagination took flight in our fort beneath the stars
we felt something from passing cars, and the existence of mars
the night burned slowly as we barely slept, as colors whirled and drifted by, as tangible as the air, and it all felt righteous, it all felt fair

I'm a bird, I'm a plane,
oh, have you ever gone insane?

lost your way,
took a drive

down a tunnel
that is corrupt and magic life

night and fright;
is it not a delight?

just to see
all the colors as they bleed

and they rain and they drip
and slowly you sip

from the cup that lies near,
your lifeline; shedding tears

I'm a bird, I'm a plane,
have you ever been numbed by pain?

as the distance he walked
as he scoffed, tore your heart
with no way left to part

from yourself, from your walls
and you've completely been numbed,
you're completely inane

broken wall, broken fall,
have you ever lost it all?

birds,
planes,
insanity,
broken dreams,
corrupting lies,
crushed,
lust,
and your life, it turns to dust

as you drift and you dream,
and your soul begins to scream,
bleeding lies,
ignorance
and unforgiving highs

I'm a bird, I'm a plane,
and I've lost my ******* mind

wind the toy,
the cymbals crash,
and you've never felt so nimble.

breathe your dreams,
inhale the lies,
watch them glitter in disguise,
sparkle in the night
as you're taking your last flight

as that bird, as that plane,
you've surely gone insane.

he stood there holding ashes,
and sifting through them
he tried to piece together
his foggy and charred past

people swim in and out of this river of memory,
the miles walked construct a rugged path-
but the beauty and depth of this path
can hardly be fathomed
and can seldom be walked.

trapped in a tangle, a thick tangle of brush
you'll find thorns and flowers-
burrs and soft leaves

but with the right amount of will,
and maybe a knife,
you can fight your way into the sunlight again,
just as he did.

sometimes he reminisces upon this dark forest
and wonders why he ever wanted to go.

he conveys a sense of strength and power,
and this shell lies thick over
his shattered interior,
a black hole of memories,
an abyss of feelings

the money and far-fetched wishes were never granted to him-
he only had his thoughts going for him
and so he needed an occasional way out of this seemingly unfair madness

that temporary escape became his life,
that forest became an addiction

it was a beautiful forest while he was there,
and he built a lovely home in the forest
then all weather was welcomed-
aside from the fire that ignited when the forest dried out

he dropped a match to light his daily campfire,
but he missed the circle of sticks, ashes and twigs ever so slightly
and routine turned to madness,
the forest then was nothing but a sea of ash,
dust and grey
when the long-lasting flames were through with it

he vacated, reluctantly back to his home in town,
his normal, not very outstanding home

and a strange comfort washed over him-
like he had always belonged to it and
was never meant to leave

simple pleasures brought him the greatest joys-
like the sunshine on the porch in summer
and the chilled rain in autumn

and then there she was-
walking her small dog down the road one morning
while he sat with his coffee in the chair on that porch-

it was August and the sun beat down, though it was early.
his cup began to burn the skin on his hand,
and this sensation took his eyes off of her for a brief moment,
but after he adjusted his hand,
his eyes locked back on her until she was out of his line of sight

he set his cup down and he ran,
caught up to her with a breathless, cheesy compliment

little did he know that over time, she'd complete him
and further cure him-
washing away his tornadic past

one foggy, pleasant morning,
they set out for that long-forgotten forest
and she discovered that there were still pieces of his most prized possessions
laying there in the dust and rubble

they fit what they could into their backpacks
and carried it on home to wash it all off

she was like a tissue to his tears
as they fell at the discovery of these items-
he'd long since forgotten their existence;
but she wouldn't let him suffer
as those memories hit him hard and cruelly,
as she washed them up and asked him to explain the meaning behind them

she discovered his true feelings, and why he seemed so distant
they only fascinated her and brought her joy.

he smiled through the tears of pain,
and wrapped her in a hug

they grew, over the weeks, to love and love more
and when their lips finally met,
they thought it had to have been meant to be.

he was amazed that a person could look past the
hell he put himself through for one simple pleasure.
and to him, she was so dainty and flawless,
she had an air of innocence.

her own broken past though,
was not something she chose to go through.

they found ultimate comfort and security in one another,
and it far outdid the forest that always had brought him solitude

they decided it was time to leave this jaded town,
and went far west and were comforted under the sunny skies,
and warmth there

from then on, cars and voices buzzed on by like sand through an hourglass
the sun rose every day,
and the rain fell occasionally,
but the rain was needed for the land to exist,
so it was embraced
rather than shunned

they walked hand in hand through everything they did
and loved each other more than they could understand
and the forest-
sure, they sometimes made the long trek to pay it a visit,
but forgiveness and their western sublimity
outweighed the vast depth and sin of the past, of the east.

rainbow buttons trickle down your back,
perfectly aligned along your spine,
and you darken as I go deeper

you fade from bright yellow,
bright orange, florescent green
to deep, burning red as you
move closer to me

everything more numb than it's ever been,
but amplified as hot and cold take turns
washing over my arms and eyelids

I don't recall where our clothes went or when they did,
or what day of the week it is,
but I do know what happens when I run
my finger tips up your back and back down

you melt into my arms and then between
my thighs and I
never
want you to leave

and for a moment I understand addiction,
for two moments I dwell on it as I watch the
ceiling fold into itself over and over, infinitely
and then it's back to your eyes

reminding myself not to apologize
for the seeming eternity I wasn't looking at you
because it was only a second or two
... only a second or two, right?

sure, move on
move to your hand all of a sudden around my throat
I fly further into space the tighter your grip becomes
and next thing I know I'm sternly being reminded
to breathe
because surely, I would have forgotten

who are you, old friend? why have i gone so long without you,
old friend?
entirely brand new, yet familiar and bright like the oldest, undying flame

was it you whom i kissed under the fireworks for the first time at age fifteen?
no, but it should have been

a passion has risen inside my heart that i didn't know could exist.

we are wonderful and brilliant, and i love you, old friend

embers burning wildly among these old, familiar trees
wind whispers softly, and so do you
intense, slow-burning passion
unexpectedly beautiful, like speeding southbound on an open, mountainous highway, lightly adorned with trees;
every day kissed gently by the sunrise, and zealously by the sunset