how I love you is as far inbetween comfortable and platonic as is possible in this whole made up concept, yet I will love you as is how you want to be loved

Glaring at one person and one only
He silently tells of his secrets, those of his creator
A message bound to draw me in; us in
A centralized herald installed at a dreary post

softly, fleetly
tickle, treat me
new warmth here
that loves me sweetly
what was comfort
now is strange
round two's arrived
please don't change

It's always happy above the clouds
The bluest blues
Heavenly sun blankets the cotton white nimbus
If joy were a royal shade
I would've seen joy
Good thing this cold summer land makes me feel it anyway

.

boys are tricky ones
always creative and fun
but get nothing done

when you turned I didn't ****,
just froze;
maybe you're in there,
who knows?

Though I walk with my head held high,
shoulders back,
smile bright
down that hallway of window lights,
each time I meet your eyes it hurts so much to look up again
To see you walking away
with someone else
rather than feeling your approach behind
me.

A pleasantly bubbling creak murmurs softly, complacently flowing as a creak does, day in and day out
By the crumbling bank stands a strong willow tree, rooted by the prolfic stream
Thoughtlessly taking the water of which it needs, a simple commodity to a tree of such stature and poise
And gracefully, beautifully shivering at the base of his trunk, there lives a daisy, white and pure
The willows roots indulge themselves, thirsting, thirsting for more
Negligent to the flower below who makes its view that much more lovely
Than just a simple stream, and who provides to the animals and children a blustery smile
Beckoning them to the shade where they might play and the daisy might watch over them
And as the roots take and take they choke the misguided flower, leave her to wither
One soft petal falls to the grass rendering her no more than a tainted ****
No child will ever present her to his good mother now
Not now that she is no longer the pure beauty she once was, not with such an imperfection
And though she may beg for mercy, she must weaken and give herself to the strong roots of the willow
Until she is but a dying cause with browned stale edges and though she lay so close to life, stable life
She does not possess the power to take rein so she the sage awaits the logger in silent knowingness

the Dark is so lonely
not a Soul or Soulless roams
there is but a howl of the Wind
though there is worse company than The Stars
so I suppose I should be grateful
to be The Only soul or soulless
Roaming

i go for walks past nine
to see the shine of stars in fireflies
beside the wooded buggy path
carrying the burdensome aftermath
of loves lost, found, and misplaced
oh what i'd do to get out of this state

Always thinking of the people to come
Who will be unconsciously affected by my ghosting traces of life
Never stopping to think of the ghosts
Which surround my pacing feet, and flexing lungs
With each step they take, and breath they gulp

creep, creep up along the carpal
brush, sweep, like a chinook in passing
tempt, taunt, the heart begs for more
collapse, give in, finally at home

a reaction to tears showed sense to a wistful mind
reassurance supersedes laughter
in times when you need to hear
"I am here"
and it's only for you

tomorrow there will be new hours to act as children
amongst music notes and bashful whispers
of what might become

Sat by the windows tall
Grey clouded light hazes through to illuminate the wonders
The irreplaceable structures, swatches, and swiping, scraping of a tireless hand
Surrounded by the obvious subject, yet unlike those who amble, I choose to see  
Paint pots and brushes of many men perch upon easels so used, a coins thickness of murky product builds its height, topped with splashes of clear reds, browns, and whites                        
Yet no art is to be fashioned from what has been once made, made again    
And so, my back in the dark of the pristine portraits and angels flying high, I see      
And what I see becomes my obsession
Frantic strokes upon a canvas rush to convey a fleeting moment of beauty
Colours so alive they cannot be restrained by careful handiwork, feelings so joyous they demand to be felt, untainted
And so I work as to appease them  
And though I live like the sky
Light flirting in and out, captivating my soul, only to hide recluse  behind the clouds and southern hemisphere  
I hope my labour keeps the skies of some souls clear
And that will be enough

I have lost my ******* mind
she wildly yells with tear stained eyes

rolling, flailing; limb and jargon
control is left out of the bargain

cramped from laughing, all is seized
she gasps for breath, there on her knees

sit up straight; smart and refined
I have lost my ******* mind

each smile met with confusion and questions
every compliment of mine is weighed
scrutinzed blindly in dim reflection
for each wears the crooked mask I portray
Dumb-***, Loser, Idiot, Try-Hard, ****!
these are few among many antonyms
of which I cruelly throw and you permit
for what? god knows, be this love a phantom?
one that is so dear I should love dearly.
but as it stands my vice is in my speech
each hot dagger cuts our ties severely
I am sorry to kindle this love's breach
Day One I asked if you would be okay
Day One you knew not how fiercely words slay

when one removes oneself from stillness
undoes the smooth, glossed over wake
and in a sense cannon-***** backwards; out
returning to an unknown, though more known than not
with a queer sort of deja vu; uncertainty
uncertainty in every sense
of intelligence, of humanity, of self
to be stripped of ones right to engage
or better said,
to strip oneself; for what?
why endure such purgatory
only to relearn something otherwise perfected
to expand? to give? to learn a slight suffering?
or perhaps not so slight
as losing ones voice is arguably worse than ones limb
you have a spare arm, as well, two legs
but one soul to share
or is it to grow, to remould oneself
retrofitted to suit the now
a more capable, attentive being
who, upon the next disturbance of the surface,
will choke on fewer salty drops,
will tense her muscles somewhat less,
will not be afraid to open her eyes
to the new,
to the scary,
to the unknown,
to herself

Forehead sore, striving to hold my irises unstrained
I see through the rays, red, blue, and white snapping in the wind
Casting flickering shadows upon the women in frocks of lighter pinks and turquoise
Just like that of the channel waters through which my bow cuts cleanly
Rudders portside, ropes knotted on hand
My lady and I dock, a gentleman all in black ready to oblige her graceful hand
Two cheeks dampened with a kiss’ moment later
A glance welcomes the uniform balconies which wrap around curved corners,
Double windows, and modest roofs that mirror extravagant ceilings
Onward we stride to our night time lodging where the dormant flares shall ignite
We celebrate our ought’ve been loss of virtues
And gain of not one golden band, but two

Hey there gorgeous, flash a smile
  Don’t look back, stand straight, you’re fine
Learn to accept a compliment you ****!
  Face hot in the cold wind, tears threaten to fall
  I move on. I am strong.

With the number of boys I kiss, it doesn’t matter
  (all laugh) but why can’t you kiss whoever you’d like?
Can she really pull off that dress? When she, yaknow, looks like that?
  (she can wear whatever the **** she wants) I don’t know, I think it’s cute
  I compliment that girl. She is strong.

Don’t pick that up! Let a man! You’ll get hurt!
  With my strong thighs that lift better than ripped arms?
Don’t worry; the female body can just shut that whole thing down
  With what pre-installed ****-detector application?
  How are such ridiculous notions passed publicly as truth?
  I overhear a young girl correcting her boyfriend’s slur. We are strong.

in the pink dawn of morn a flight dizzies of restraint
its shapely breast enlightened by the too slow rising sun
behind cheerful demeanor a deft, watchful eye may taint
the gossamer certainty of which the fowl had none

silenced by loss of hope, he stares pointedly from the light
but it would take only the bat of a butterflys wing
to free the sparrow of its woven cage, and let it sing

You know how air is just always around
And if you go swimming
And stay underwater a second too long
You come up gasping, so grateful to have that
Unnoticed necessity back in your lungs
It feels the same when I kiss you
And the moment it stops I thirst
For that same embodiment of warmth
Comfort, safety and that four letter word
That your lips breathe into mine

There's nothing like a warm breeze blanket to wake up wrapped in
Nothing like a rhythmic stomp on sand to be made aware of your strength
There's nothing like a first touch, smile, or warm hand
Nothing like a hope of love or fate

I challenged you to a duel
But you sank as though the concrete were quicksand
Before having drawn your sword

he and she physically miles apart
but always together in terms of their heart
each cuddles a pillow and whispers their mind
leaking their secrets one day at a time
tonight they are bonded, both stressed and relieved                          watching brooklyn 99 to turn a new leaf
the sound of the name rings a homely old bell
one which rings as though there ne'er was a farewell
a smile impedes with good wistful delight
but comes the brash of reality; I deserve no goodnight
................................................................­....................................

Goodnight used to mean closure
It meant I love you; I don't want to leave
But I must
So take this last coin of my affection
"Goodnight"
I haven't forgotten you
And after farewell you still drift in my mind
I earned nothing;
Was handed everything
I don't deserve closure anymore
.........................................................­...........................
or so thought the classically troubled teen
though not gone or high on lean
Her egomania did persist
common amongst these theatrical kids
the truth is this, no word of a lie
an ego is fine just dont be blind
its sound to think highly of yourself,
avoid the complexities of self doubt
players play on, an ancient tale
you deserve self respect, guilt-free; no bail
you earn more than credited, let it be known
you're a force to be reckoned with, even alone
...........................................................­...............................
you are whole

Float, float away does the summer warmth
Which tickles and flirts across paling browned skin
Rustle and sing do the still green branches
Chirping and white noise come from within
Shimmer, quiver, oh! how the man-made pond does quake!
First cold is warm where the wind does not waltz; glimmer does the world where sun fleetingly lingers
Love me! begs the stiff latch, Want me! cries the overgrown green
Circle, circle does life go. Slurp the freshness! Drown in its richness! Burnt is the conscience of quiet singers

i wish i could forget
but when youre not in deep theres no surface to rise to
only a plateau to look back on
lined in landscape with all the moments that will never be the same
because half the perspective has changed
and once youve turned around
marching forward only takes you back
and backwards is a trippy journey
potholes filled with misconceptions
roots of tangled words and intentions
forces united to ensure
that you never feel the heat of a smile rushing through you
that two notes will never hit in time
that you have to realize youre not that special
never mind that, you are not special
you were an idea
ideas are bountiful but deceptive
its better to love from the mountains than the plains
but at least in the plains theres plain sight
no expectations