It has just hit me that

This is life.

This is all we have,

Every chance, every moment and every day

An opportunity to move closer to what we desire

And yet we waste away our current days,

Wishing for the past, hoping for the future,

Oblivious to our current affairs

And we pay no attention

Until its too late and

We're looking at it in retrospect

When we didn't even appreciate it in the first place.

I lie awake with the night's tranquil motive soothing me.

Usually my brain over thinks as a computer would over heat.

Tonight I lie and think of you.

It's so difficult to be so far away, and I wish there were a less cliche way to word that - but unfortunately, my mind isn't capable.

Your features and phrases are beginning to blur and slip from my lonely mind.

Your lips and the trace of your spine are beginning to dissolve from my weary eyes.

Oh who am I kidding,

We aren't in love.

You don't even know I am writing this.

We are friends.

And so I'll resume my dreaming, maybe I'll see you then.

Love can be compared to sleep.

In deep sleep we dream.

When we are deep in love we dream.

If in deep sleep we are woken, we aren't well adjusted and we wake up tired and longing for tranquility.

If in deep love we are broken, we aren't well adjusted and we break up lonely and longing for peace.

Daydreaming is lust.

We are sleeping when we should not be, when the time is not well suited. Just as lust is not healthy and not always acceptable.

I'm too tired to function, and I'm not sure how I mean that.

it's silly to assign a word to an emotion.

Love.

A two-way street.

A maze.

A roller coaster.

Seemingly, if poetry and literature were people they would obssess  over how next to label love. Every angle is observed and every simile and metaphor is scrutinised.

It was his first day at school
I noticed him amongst a crowd of people
I passed him in the hallway and
I admired his hair
At lunch I spoke and
He told me of his day
He smelt like home and he looked like it too.

It was our second year at school
I noticed him amongst a crowd of new people
I glanced at him in the hallway and
I noticed he altered his hairstyle
At lunch I cried and
He told me it would be okay
He smelt like mystery and he looked mysterious too.

It was our third year at school
I noticed him amongst the crowd that do silly things
I peered at him in the hallway and
I noticed he had covered his hair with a hood
At lunch I spoke and
He sneered and left
He smelt a lot older and he looked it too.

It was our fourth year at school
I noticed him amongst the crowd I'd been warned about
I darted from him in the hallway and
I noticed he had grown his hair to cover his eyes
At lunch I sat in silence and
He ridiculed me
He smelt like cigarettes and he looked like he hadn't a clue.

It was his fifth year at school
He drifted from the crowd every one knows about
People shift away from him in the hallway and
They notice his hair covers his sunken eyes
At lunch he sits in silence and
They ridicule him
He smells like regret, because I left too soon.

People often tell me:

The sun doesn't shine when it's night

Well of course the sun shines at night

It always shines

But we can't see the sun at night

Because it is simply

Shining on somebody else.

ramblers often traipse through depleted and damaged soils, to discover new realms, new places of beauty.

I am a rambler of language.

I often find myself traipsing through discarded and disconsolate thoughts, to discover new expressions, new articulations.

New ways of telling you

Just how I feel.