You learned to give
We learned to die
You learn too quick
We learned to cry
We learned to trust
You turned to rust
Now i am i
And you are your love
We are frozen offerings
In the cold night’s rain
We are the shattering of idols
On an altar of pain
We are the sacrifice
And we are the knife
We are the intervening angels
Who strangle your sight
We are the blood
And we are the flood
We are the fire
We are the love
We are the noises you make in the dark
One more cup of coffee
And we'll be back on the rug
Singing history is a liar
And for now dancing is our drug

It's a symphony of harmonics
Flowers are the architects of desire
We are longing for a multitude of wisdom
So simply listen and all will be sung
An offering among the rosebuds
A little gift from the dandelions
A poem and a portrait of the moon
Hung against the memory
Of our fragile blossoming
We are apparitions
Appearing and disappearing too soon
We fear the indestructible
Has become one more puzzle
For you to unlock
But i am not a part of that prison system
I give my spark and my soul to god
We are forever
And just as we are
We all must eventually come
To touch the gardener’s heart
With our fingers and linger
In the sound of leaves
Rustling to the heartbeat of the wind
We are turning into tulips and hyacinths
We are shining sylphs
Making funny sounds with our mouths
We are lovers entwined
Like deadly vines in your backyard
We are the seeds of the new earth
And we have been reborn
From the chaos of hurt
That was sprinkled
Like compost over everything

We are newly discovered obsidian daggers
Covered in obscene diamonds
We had a great time in our scabbards
Until your archaeologists came and found us
We are accents of rhythm
Extracted from a linguists’ worst nightmare
We are apparently humid if not quite human
Ruminating on our naked dysfunctions
We are content to being secret agents
Masters of arguments in surreptitious suspense
We are sweat and salt upon naked backs
That attract you like the golden hues of slumber
The ochre of the jungle is crisper than a hundred dollar bill
Life-force fueled by something new and leguminous
Quetzals bluer than a waterfall or the sky above an igloo
I chased you to the bottom of a cup of coffee
To overcome the fear of drowning in a melancholy mood

When did fifty shades of grey,
become an accurate description of my face?

We are unstoppable cooperatives
In a house of philanthropic mistrust

Words have a way of speaking to you
As if you could create meaning from objects
That fall like feathers from the tops of buildings
Could we collect the silence and place it in our bodies
Subjective fingers are bringing you eager categories
And seekers of feeling harbor no jealousy
We are those treetops in need of new itineraries
When our airline tickets fit together quite nicely
Could you believe the world is made from mind
While the majority of beings remain hungry
For the shining light which binds us to our spines
Without rhyme we’d all be lost
And rhythm is the cost of our consciousness
But first we must fatten our ducks and turkeys
And take the dog for a good long walk
We saw more than we could ever hope to talk about
And I hear the sound of ambulances and police sirens
Chasing angels through these forests
We seem to always forget who we are
And every time we talk too much about anything  
The world becomes just a little bit more lonely