i think about
a lot of things
and most of them
don't stay for long
but if i had to
sum it up,
for you,
i think i'd try.

i think about my memories
and replay laughs
and lessons, kisses
and the first time seeing
people who i now know well.

i think about the near future
and try to tame expectations
and try to focus on the now
but sometimes it
gets tough.

i often feel like
dipping in and
out of life like
something rolling
back and forth
along the wave break
resting now and then.

but mostly i just
think of that
which is before me
like a map or
flower or a shadow
or whatever form i find.

so when you asked me
what i think
it at first seemed
a riddle, for
i'm not sure
i think at all
now that i
think
about it.

If I could change your name
I would
turn it into a sentence.
It would be
"I Think I'm Falling In Love With You"
just like what you said,
half asleep,
from the backseat of my car,
when we had only known each other
for forty-eight hours.
I would call you that,
I Think I'm Falling In Love With You,
any time I needed
your attention.
"I Think I'm Falling In Love With You,
come read this."
"I Think I'm Falling In Love With You,
while you're in there,
could you get me a glass of water?"
"I Think I'm Falling In Love With You,
I think I'm falling in love with you."

I walk the world with thoughts of you
In every place I go
Your voice is on the winter wind
Your footprints in the snow
And every tool I try to use to scrape you from my mind
Cuts your name onto my tongue
And beats me till I'm blind
I layed my head upon your knees and breathed the air you breathed
I cut myself when you were cut to know just how you bleed
Now as I walk this empty earth with nothing but a face
To breathe me and to bleed me
Until I leave this place

i want you if
even for the
shortest moment
of time
even if knowing
our hellos
will also be
goodbye.

i want
you

to hold me.

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

Your lips
Were the first thing I noticed
Gently parted
Breathing in and out

Oh to be your words
Conceived within your mind
Born upon your lips

Poetry.

Your lips are ******* poetry.

I am a miserable ****.

Traffic jam thoughts.
Aimless speech.
Fever dreams,
coffee with no cream,
love with no pulse,
alone at restaurants,
            at grocery stores,
            at parties.

I have no identity.

Shifting shape, black to blue,
trading girls, red hair for Persian skin,
parents and gods,
politicians and lost purpose mobs,
all asking me to be sacred,
                            to be loving,
                            to be trusting,
                            to be active,
                            to have no spine.

All I want is a bit of my own time.

A grenade of change,
to end the coagulation of my brain,
to leave me hungry for anything
other than me,
didn't somebody say I was promised something?
                                            I was going somewhere?
                                            I was unique?

I am the same miserable ****,

As every other miserable ****.

The ******* that cut you off on Highway 62,

The person that complained about too many pickles,
on his precious fast food,

The boy yelling at his baby sister for getting too much attention,

The girl sexting your boyfriend,

The boy sexing your girlfriend,

The generation divorcing everyone it knows so it can fall in love with

itself.

All different,
in exactly the same way.

Traffic jam thoughts. Traffic jam thoughts.
                   Traffic jam thoughts. Traffic jam thoughts.
            trafficjamthoughts. traffic. Traffic Jam Thoughts. Thoughts.
Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Jam.
thoughts. traffic. trafficjam. trafficjam. traffic jam thoughts.traffic.
traffic jam. traffic, traffic, traffic. I am a miserable ****. Traffic jam.