constantly torn
between being here and trying to
make the best of it
and wanting to be 3,781.9 km
closer to her.
constantly torn
between not texting you back
and feeling guilty because
you’re drunk and you miss me.
constantly torn between
what I want to say
and what’s preventing me from
saying it.
constantly torn
between dipping my foot in
the ocean of freedom
and then pulling away when
the tide comes rushing in.
constantly torn between
noticing how much I remind myself
of you while also noticing
that I am nothing like you at all
and not knowing if that is good
or bad.
constantly torn between wanting
you to hold my hand every second
of every day, while also wanting
nothing more to do with you
ever again.
constantly torn between
remembering and forgetting
misplacing and replacing
trying and giving up
I’m just sad because I feel like
the word
enough
shouldn’t even exist.

I would try everything
If not for the fact that it's too late.
So I won't bother
It would just be a waste of time.

I strike a hot match against those Front-Porch-Sitting-Mowing Freaks who live across the street.

I'm out there every morning;
Afternoons, too,  
My grass stands tall,
And my fingers dance lightly across my dulcimer.

I'm strumming 'Wildwood Flower', mistakes and all.
I get serious with 'Whiskey Before Breakfast', not well done.
But then I break out with '******* Creek.'
And who can fault me for that one?
It's a happy tune, done well, or poorly.

Those **** neighbors sit across the way.
They don't even bother to stare.

Something has changed.
There is still no sparkle in their eyes,
But I am happy.

*It isn't my job to entertain the world.

I am making noise in the dark but its hard to find out why.
These voices I hear are making words,
words made out of things they've heard.
Things they may have felt or seen
with eyes made out of stars and dreams.
The words they fly and all I hear
is music and pain.
Screams and cheers...

My voice is there of course and it rings the chaos bell,
but sometimes I cannot hear my words and that just means that all is well.

Perhaps this is just a ball floating around with volume turned on high.
Does the cosmic storm give a **** about our blue and cloudy sky?

It may or may not. I'll never know.

But if all I hear until I die are these voices,

...then I am okay with that.

I'll just keep making noise in the dark.

From the high cliffs a rugged landscape swept, dropping to the sea
windy clouds, gray rain soaking tiny flowers, waiting for the sun
smokey town so far off, walking farther on

A weathered, rocky place high above this world, climbs a path to stars
with twinkling eyes of sky, where night collides with sea
a traveler, seeking refuge from the shallows
rests her head, soft upon a grassy pillow

A warm wind to caress, sails away the day
drifts quietly her dreams - slipping underwater
where seaweed clings, to pearly rings of sleepy siren's bells
in echoing shells no darkness dwells
in the heart of forgiveness

I went on a walk today.
A long walk.
I was feeling weird, and I like walking.

But when I don't have anything to distract me from my thoughts
My mind wanders to you.

Then before I know it
I'm turning my head each time a car passes
That looks remotely like yours,
Just wondering if it was you.

I don't think it was.

But I couldn't tell that last time.

I really don't know why you consume my thoughts.
Yes,
You're attractive,
And kind,
And passionate,
And mature,
And pretty much all of the things that I like in a man,

But
I mean,
There's no way I have a chance.
I don't have a chance.
I don't think I have a chance.
But
I guess I could have a chance.
What if I have a chance?
I totally have a chance.

But,
Whatever, because
I'm totally over you,
So it doesn't even matter.

But I really couldn't tell that last time if
It was you driving the car.