I am a binary man
seeing the world simplified
Everything would be so much easier
if it was made of ones and zeros
If all choices were right or wrong
all answers yes and no.
In a binary world there would be no maybes
There would be no what if's


There would also be no love
no passion
no beauty
no creativity
It is the gray area that defines us
It is the unpredicatability that makes us
Its the uncertainty that drives us
giving us hope and pushing us to better ourselves
I don't want my binary world with only two paths
I want the third path
I choose life.

My heart weighed heavy with the decision
that I was about to make.  Here I was
standing outside in the rain...
in front of her house.

Should I or should I not?  
The question bounced
around my head like an
insane man
in a padded room.

I stuck my hands in my pocket
and brushed up against
a quarter.
A sudden strike of simple realization
I can let the universe decide.

Heads, yes. Tails, no.  Simple.

I flipped the coin, saw it spinning
carefree through the air, ready
to simplify my decision.  Every
time the coin flipped, I reflected
on what had brought me
to this point

Tails
How she smashed the dinner plate over
my head during an argument.  The way
she looked at my friend.  How she told
me she could never trust me.  She told me
she never loved me.

Heads
The way she would show up to work
in a sundress and bring me my
favorite food.  The smile that should
be framed up in the Louvre. She told me
she'd always love me

Tails
The blood staining the cold tile floor
in the bathroom.  The locked door
and the sobbing.  The sleepless night
convincing her to stop.  She said that
she didn't want to live

Heads
The way she'd sneak up and hug me
when I was cooking dinner.  The way
she'd sigh as we entwined in sheets.
How she knew my soul.  I'm sure that
she was happy.

Tails
The Lies. The uncertainty
The pent up Anger.
The lonely nights awake
The fear

Heads
The love.  The rapture.
The silly poems.
The feeling of oneness.
The happiness


The coin landed.
I didn't look at it.
I walked to her door
and I told her....

I had questions on death
I had questions on life
I had questions about
poverty
hatred
and strife

I was told I should visit a
particularly peculiar man
who would set me right
who would give me a plan

I ran

I crossed mountains and oceans
and jungles and lagoons
I swam and I hiked and I trekked.

I finally found him in a field
a nondescript field of Indonesia
He sat cross legged within a hut.

A hut not made of mud
A hut not made of sticks

A hut made of hair.

A hut made of his own hair.
Still connected to his head.

He wore no clothes, but his
beard was so long that he
was able to wrap it about
himself as a shawl.

Interspersed throughout
the hair were baubles and
trinkets, folded notes and
photos.  Gifts from those
who had visited him before

It was a sight to behold

I was in awe

I had barely a chance
to utter a syllable when
he opened his eyes

and stared at me
and stared   through   me
as if in a trance

Then he spoke.

The answering of thousands
of questions had clearly taken
a toll on the man's voice, yet
his lilted rasp was somehow
soothing.

"You have questions, my boy?
You wish to know my secrets?
Do you want to know the key
        to life?"

Yes.  Yes I did.

He smiled

"Young man, I have sat here
for seventy-eight years, focusing
         my entire life and all my
conscious thought on that very
thing.  My wife supported me
until her death.  My sons still
support me.  They visit me
often and make sure I stay
     healthy and fed.  I have
weathered famine and storms,
sickness and droughts searching
      for the answer you seek."

He closed his eyes

"I have forgone a life of
passion and comfort and
instead focused within myself
to find this answer.  In all
this time I have only found
one thing to be true."

I waited for the answer

"Life is not meant to be
explained.  It is meant to
be experienced.  There
is no answer, only more
questions.  I swore not
to move from this spot
until I had discovered
what life meant.  My
hair and beard are
constant reminders
of my foolishness."

He smiled

"Go and live"

and surely I did


__
*Acersecomic - n - One whose hair has never been cut

Do you ever have
the strange sensation that a
ninja is watching?

I've come alive
    with the night
young, fresh, and unspoiled

I see the pale, naked moon
    as it peeks at me through
          a window in the wall of clouds

            it basks the streets in ivory hues,
          competing with the sickly yellow
        of the street lights

I'm alive
I feel no desire nor obligation
    to sit quietly, to stare meekly
         my veins trickle with intoxication
             electricity in my fingertips

I'm seeking
allowing my heartbeat
to lead me
                to feed me

             My gaze cuts like diamonds
           my grin gleams like steel

      When you look into my eyes
tell me, what do you feel?

is your heart just like mine?
    Do you feel them beating in time?

We're tripping
   We'll fall
       We're hitting the wall

Your skin tastes like velvet
    My dear
        you have me enthralled


        We have only begun
   We have time 'til the sun
Wait and you'll see

how to be

                   Alive

Just like me

They say they a perfect memory
Is a memory that's never remembered

Strange as that may sound

But if that were true
I'd bury this memory of you

Deep into my brain
Never to be found

Then, someday, many years from now
I could open the lock  and look upon it

savor it

indulge myself in the unmarred recollection

in the final moment between me and infinity

They stared at each other for a very long time.

Such a very long time

He, collecting his thoughts
She, biting her lip

Time slowed like molasses, like settling dust

"Funny, isn't it?" He said

She looked up

"Isn't it amazing how hundreds of thousands of innocent decisions we make from the time we're born mold and shape the people we eventually become?  How one single fluttering thought becomes an unsteady action, which then becomes a rock steady habit?  That habit, repeated over and over again throughout our life until it's merely second nature.  Something that seems so simple to change, so inanely effortless...yet it is not so.  It's become so ingrained in your psyche that your body rejects your attempts to take control and break the mold.  You've become a slave, unable to waiver from the ditch you've dug yourself into.  I'm sorry I can't be the man you wanted me to be.  I'm so very sorry".

She stood there, silently regarding him for a moment.  Her long auburn hair fell across her face as she took a deep breath.

"That's wonderful, dear, but I still don't understand why you can't just learn to put the toilet seat down when you've finished"

I see her at the party
surrounded by her friends. She's clearly busy..

That's OK, I just need time to work out some
incredibly clever and witty banter.  I'm good
with words.  I can weave letters together into
aural silk.  In the meantime....I should get

Another drink

I see her at the window. an inebriated man
is attempting to woo her, unsuccessfully.
He clearly is unaware of his boorish nature

She looks on.  

I know when I talk to her
I will make her heart dance and her ears
will be massaged with the gentle sounds
of love and adoration.  In the meantime
my cup is empty...I need

Another drink

I see her in the hallway.  The night is nearly over
I walk to her, straight as I'm able through blurry vision

She notices me

I open my mouth, ready to spill forth a tidal
wave of intellect, a hurricane of insight.

"mumblecutemumbleprettymumble"

She walks away

sigh

I need another drink.

Open your eyes, child

It's not a dull gray world you live in
See the color of life refracted through curiosity

This world is so much more than a
monotonous day to day existence

Every second of every day there are
mysteries waiting for you to solve

There are questions
burning for answers

What is that star in the night sky?
I'm glad you asked
Keep asking questions
Always ask questions

Never let up in your search for understanding
Ask the same question of different people
Question their answers
Challenge your perceptions
Keep Asking Questions

Can you?
Should you?
Why not?

Don't settle for an answer.
Find more questions.
Questions will shape your life
will alter your course
more than answers ever could

Answers are only questions that no one asks anymore

I've walked as far as my feet can go
through deserts, oceans, and forests of rain
through tundra and mountains and  wide open plains
Searching for a way to keep you here

I have failed

I feel I've reached the end,
as my legs buckle and bend
I fall
to my knees.

This appears as good a place as any
to rest my weary eyes
I look to the sky

I lay on the soft forgiving grass
where the ground embraces me
and all of my past

At last, I am a part of something

On the spot that I existed,
a tree will grow as a testament
it will be what was best in me
branches arching and twisted

Reaching out towards the sun
To find your love

I can only hope that one day
that you'll find my tree
on a warm spring morning
and have your thoughts
turn to me

You'll sit down for a rest and
you'll wonder what happened
to that man you knew
not aware
that even now
I'm here with you,
providing you
with a tree that can shade you
from the afternoon sun

Your eyes will close as you
fall
into a mid-day slumber,
resting in my eden

and I will finally
be at peace

three men standing in a snow-covered field
trying to recapture their youth
these men standing in this snow covered field
haven't a clue what to do

As boys, they owned this domain
It was their land to tame
It was magical, and theirs for the taking

They were crazy, wild, and free
They could not possibly be
the gents who stand here freezing and shaking

Three men standing in a snow covered field
quietly staring in space
These men standing in this snow covered field
they try to remember this place

They indiscriminately shift
they just don't know what's different
about this scene that belongs to their past

they used to slip and slide on the ice
They never thought twice
of these things that were not meant to last

Three men standing in a snow covered field
look at each other and smile
These men standing in this snow covered field
are suddenly kids for awhile

There was a universe.
In this universe...was a galaxy
In this galaxy...was a planet
On this planet...was a man
In this man...was a heart
In this heart...was a cell
In this cell...was a nucleus
In this nucleus...was a proton
In this proton...was a quark
In this quark...was a gluon
In this gluon...was....


Where was I going with this?

Umm....

You're awesome.

They gather 'round
the mountainous pile
it's towering
to them
it's frightening

Books
Books
Cascades of books
Pages upon pages of
ideas
knowledge
They despise these words
they hide them in dark corners
of their minds
Where they do not peer
where the tissue paper of their fantasy world
barely holds back the truth

They've gathered all their fears together
in the square
covered in gasoline.  The fuel of the righteous.
The medium of control and order
Now those are words they can get behind.

They stand for a moment
as if they aren't quite sure
if what they're doing is right

The moment passes
a lone cigarette flips carelessly
through the air
Bouncing off Twain
Rolling past Dickens
Before landing on the esteemed Thompson

Let there be light, indeed.

The heat given off is immense
Why wouldn't it be?
The fire is burning through ideas
A powerful fuel source
freedom of thought evaporates
with the smoke
with the smell
of burning paper
of burning leather

These righteous people
These wise people
with no emotions
but anger and hate
are suddenly alive

They roll their eyes back
into their heads in ecstacy
in hypocricy
it brings them pleasure
to destroy knowledge
and replace it
with falsehood
with lies

The pile is smoldering now
A hill of dead authors
They walk away
smiling
satisfied
satiated

It's a tough job,
defending the world
from free expression
from the burden of choice

but someone's gotta do it
as far as they're concerned
it might as well be them

I arrived at the church at 5:30.
It took me a bit to find the place

  there were only a couple half-inflated baloons
  to mark the occasion.
  Those, and a small sign with an arrow, which led
  
      down some stairs and into a cafeteria.  An
      older lady greeted me.  She had a calm smile
      on her face.  The kind that comes with age, that
      says that you've been there, done that.

"Are you here to give?"

           Of course.  Why else would I be here?

  "Yeah"

She leads me to a table that has a number of tall dividers
set up on it to prevent people from peeking at someone
else's personal life.  Like I care if you've had syphilis in
the last year...well I might if it weren't all men in here.

I start filling out the form.
No, I don't have an STD
No, I haven't spent a time totaling more than 5 years in the UK before 1996
No, I don't use drugs
No, I haven't had a fever in the last 24 hours
No
  No
    No
  No
No

I do admit that I have been out of the country recently.

I hand my sheet to another lady.  "Where did you travel to?"

    "Japan, mostly Tokyo and a few places just outside"

    "Carol, could you check Japan on the list?"

She turns to me.  "I'm almost certain that's OK, but I have to check".  Another contented smile.

I sit down to be interviewed, we go over the questions once more.

    "Alright, I just need a small sample before we begin"

She takes the sample with a small contraption that
fits over my finger and jabs a small hole.  She runs
a quick test with the blood, letting a droplet fall
in a test tube filled with a blue liquid.  

The droplet sinks to the bottom.  She checks a box.

Apparently we're good to go.

  I'm given an empty blood bag and a number of rubber-banded vials
and pointed towards a circle of beds in the middle of the room.

I walk up and a portly gentleman takes my bag and asks me
which arm I'd like it in.

"Right"

I pause.  

I want to be able to check my phone while I'm doing this.

"Actually, let's do left"

He gives a grin.  "Here, hold both your arms out"

I comply.  I immediately notice that my right arm
has a very accessible vein.  We're doing the right arm.

Oh well.

   "Let's go with the Right"

I smile and sit on the plastic seat

He swabs my arm with that wonderful orange/yellow dye
and gives me a stress-ball to squeeze, to help the process go
quicker.  He comes back with the needle.

I look away as I feel the uncomfortable breach of my skin.
It's a small pinch followed by a dull sensation, my body
telling me "That isn't supposed to be there, get it out".

         I hate needles.

I feel a light sweat break and my breathing quickens
ever so slightly.  It's ok because the hard part is over
I squeeze the stress ball every few seconds and I chat
with the man.

His name is Nick, and he's been doing this for a few years.  
He used to work in a restaurant, and then he worked for a
flooring company.  
He remarks
    on the fake grouting that the floor in this room has.  

You  can tell that he loves his job, that he's satisfied with life.

He comments on the t-shirt that I will receive for doing this

(because who would do it if they didn't get a t-shirt, right?)

He says it looks like a blueberry snowcone and tells me a
rather entertaining story from his youth about blueberry
snowcones.  

I pipe in with my memories of the Tropical Sno  shop we had
when I was a kid.  

The bag is filled, the needle is removed.  A bandaid is placed,
and then my arm is wrapped with a smily-face bandage.

I give him a left-hand shake and go sit at the refreshments table

I drink a Pepsi.  I hate trail mix.

After about 10min or so, I get in my car and drive home.
I put on the blueberry snow-cone colored t-shirt and sit
down to read a book.  I think about the people working
at the blood drive, and I think about how happy they
seemed.

I wonder to myself what the difference is between someone
who gives blood and someone who gives time.  I have friends
that travel the world for the Peace Corps, living in third world
countries with no running water, no niceties.  I think of friends
who could sit in blistering heat, helping to build a house for
someone they don't even know.  I think of myself, who thinks
that donating money to the Leukemia foundation and donating
blood to the Red Cross is somehow equivalent to donating sweat
and an able body.

I should really do more
maybe then I'll earn that smile
that those folks wear so proudly

There once was a blues man
as skinny as could be
who went by the moniker
of Boney Bones Dupree

He was the worst singer
I ever had heard
sounded like an alley cat
who done choked on a bird

His guitar wasn't tuned
it whined and it wailed
as he struck it with a
sharp and rusty 'ol nail

His teeth were yellow
his eyes were gray
his hair looked like
stray bits of hay

Still people came
from miles around
to listen to his music,
his haunting sound

He danced on the stage
in jaunty puzzle steps
you could hear the *****
comin' off of his breath

He'd scream one verse
until his face'd turn red
then he'd whisper the next
while he stood on his head

He'd jump up and down
and slam his guitar
throw the **** thing
right over the bar

Then he'd look to the crowd
and playfully smile
and thank us for
sharing his crazy awhile

After taking a shot
and waving goodbye
he went and jumped
back into the sky

He painted those evening
clouds with delight
as we watched him
sail off into the night

Outta sight.

Some bridges we're burning in passionate blazes
Some bridges are collapsing in various stages
Still more fall to causes unknown to the ages

They can be rebuilt with patience and time

I'll span that gap, if you'd just throw me a line

It's that flittery fluttery
legs feeling buttery
     suddenly stuttering
         feeling I'm feeling
that's reeling me in
    I'm falling, quite breathless
and careless
into your arms where I rest
to slowly let the air
back into my chest

There was a time that I found my life
to be boring
inane
bourgeois
some...other fancy sounding word
but that was before I discovered how amazing
life could truly be. That was before I discovered
InsaniFree. I bought it over the phone
for $14.83 and let me tell you

I couldn't be happier now.

You just take a teaspoon a day, and your
annoying
    controlling
        bothersome
sanity just slips away,never to be seen again.
Why within the first day I had quit my job of 25 years.
Just up and quit!
I walked into my boss's office and told him I was done.
Done being underpaid and overworked.

Well...
I might have actually just ran in covered in toner
with my pants tied around my head and tried
to jump through the window only to find it
was reinforced glass...
but it's practically the same thing.

Anyway...

I have a new job now as a "Rodent anxiety theorist".
It's so exhilarating and I've never felt more fulfilled
as a member of the work force. I spend my days
carefully observing the small critters at the park
to see what makes them tick.

Quite literally the best job ever.

Well...
I guess it technically isn't a "job", as I don't really get paid.
I basically run around throwing acorns at squirrels, then write
down what they do on napkins. They generally run away,
but I think they're starting to mobilize. I've got my eye on them.

Isn't it amazing what you can do when you don't let your
stupid
   oppressive
       restrictive
sanity stop you from doing the things you want?


Just a week ago I left my wife of 12 years. I told her
I couldn't stand her unrealistic expectations anymore.
"Dear, you need to spend more time with your son"
"Dear, we don't talk enough"
"Dear, take out the trash"
"Dear, please stop cutting locks of my hair while I'm sleeping"

Women, am I right?

I'm so much happier now. I'm marrying my dream girl next month.
Literally.
As in she's a girl that only exists in my dreams.
The paperwork will be tricky, but I think I can manage.


Now that my goodfornothing sanity is out of the way,
I can focus on lifelong dreams like
traveling the world
learning a new language
or just running through a mall and seeing how many people
I can squirt with ketchup before security tackles me.
I could never do these things before.

Well...
I guess technically I can't do them "now"
since I'm writing this from my padded cell,
but I know it's only a matter of time
before my new wife gets here with the paperwork.

She's great.

I hope she hurries though...I think I saw a squirrel.

Wait for laughter.

Though your curves are entrancing,
I found your personality lacking

If you touch the hot stove.....you will be burned
If you drink the poison...you will get sick
If the candle dies, you will be alone in the dark
If you jump...you will fall


don't jump


If you pull the trigger...someone will get hurt
If you break the glass you will bleed
If you stand in the storm, you will blow away
If you fall for me, your heart will be broken


don't fall


________


When I touch the hot stove
When I drink the poison

I learn from my mistakes

When my candle dies, I will light it again
and push forward

When I fall, I will pick myself up
Because that's what people do


take chances


I pull the trigger because I know where I'm aiming the gun
I break the glass because you placed it between us

I stand in the storm because it's where I always find you

I'm falling for you because we always risk getting hurt
when we fall
but we still have to try


*take the leap

Let me tell you 'bout a man called Chicago Robinson
with eyes like jade and breath smell like Jameson
He dances with girls who have skin taste like Cinnamon
He don't think about life, 'cause he too busy livin' it

He came out of his momma croonin' smooth as Sinatra
His voice makes the noises that'll sure hypnotize ya
The girls they all dance to the beat cause they wanna
they slide up and down like they coated in butter

He don't got many clothes, but he's got his own style
His eyes pierce on through you, he got steel in his smile
When you meet him you might not know how to feel
He'll fix you up quick, and you'll be soarin' with eagles

Chicago does what he does when he do what he do
while he's tellin' his stories in the language of Blues
He don't care where he goes, don't have much to lose
So long as he has women, music, and *****

You like hearin' stories? he gotsa lots of 'em
You want a fight? Best be movin' on, son
He's the best and the worst inside of all of us
There just ain't no one else like Chicago Robinson

I fell off of cloud nine today.

Everyone talks about cloud nine,
but they rarely talk about those
other clouds.

Right now, I'm on cloud thirty-seven,
after making an error in judgement.
Cloud thirty-seven is not quite as enjoyable

Thirty seven is slate tinted and full of regrets.
It's as if everything has been covered in a haze
of negativity.  It reeks of rejection and failure.
The people here look like lifeless shells.  I wonder
what I look like to them.

The worst part, I think, about cloud thirty-seven
is that I can still see cloud nine quite clearly.  I can
still see everyone up there smiling blissfully, save
for the few who are looking down at me with pity.
Faces stare at me almost smirking, as if the same thing
could never happen to them.

I can look up at cloud nine and it seems so far away.
It's not unreachable, mind you, but I know all the
blood and sweat
expended to get up there previously was for nothing.  
I know that to get back up there requires the same
repetitive ******* that I've been through
so many times before.  

Even if I manage to land back on cloud nine, I'm always
just a single mistake from falling from it yet again..
I've been here to thirty-seven enough times where it is
becoming uncomfortably familiar.  
I fear of becoming complacent.

Perhaps I'm fooling myself.  Maybe I need to stop aspiring
for cloud nine and pick a different one.

Cloud 28 might be nice.

I
want something.         I   w a n t
to see your smile,       your skin.  (To)   
love is not simple, but      Your beauty is.....****!
you make me crazy.        All I want is           you

Insanity ended with a shatter
as I laid waste
to
boring unpredictability

I'm looking deep into her eyes

Looking into her eyes...
is like opening a door that leads...
to another door

Wait..really?  OK...I open the door.

This door leads to a long, winding path,
like the winding path of your love.  
The path leads to a third door

O...K. I open the door.

This door leads to a spiral staircase
descending down, down, down,  deep
into her soul.
At the bottom of the staircase is--

A door?

A door.

I open the door

The door is locked.  The key might be under the mat

Seriously?  I check under the mat

Nope, not there.  Maybe try under the small rock next to the door

Oh for the love of...I check the rock

There is a key

Wonderful...I unlock and open the door

Inside this door is a large atrium
the glass ceiling giving way to a
beautiful summer night, the stars
twinkling in the distance.  At the
far end of the Atrium, there is a curtain

Sigh I pull aside the curtain

There is a door

Come on!  I open the ruddy door.

You find yourself in a long hallway,
with fine art hanging along the walls.
Crimson carpet lines the floor.
At the end of the hall is a door  locked
with a combination biometric
fingerprint scanner/retinal scanner

What.

You have 10 seconds to unlock the door
before the hunter-bots de-atomize you

What!?  Ok! I try my fingerprints and eye!

The door unlocks and the hunter-bots stand down.
In the next room are three vials.  Two of them contain
terrible neuro-toxins that will lead to an excruciatingly
painful death.  The third will allow you to continue on
to the next room.  You have 30 seconds to choose before
you are terminated

What the hell is this!?

This is the path to true love hidden deep in her eyes

No, this is insanity!

15 seconds

OK!  Geez!  Umm..Vial Number 2!

You're totally dead

Oh god!

Just kidding.  None of them had poison...was just messing with you

THAT'S IT!  I'M DONE WITH THIS

Really?  There's only one more door.  I swear

...Fine.  What ridiculous thing do I need to do to open it.

It's already open.  You find yourself in a circular room
with a pedestal in the center.  On the pedestal is a hand
written note.  On that note is the key to everlasting happiness

I pick up the note

You smell sweet hints of your beloved's perfume and
notice the care that each word of the note was written.

What does the note say?

My love:

Next Tuesday Only --  Buy One-Get One Free at J.J's Pizza.  Cannot be combined with any other offers/coupons.  Must present coupon upon purchase.  Expires 1/14/14

...An expired coupon for Pizza?

Such a wonderful expression of love!

How do I get out of here...

You see a door
.

This is a formal complaint to one Cupid
on behalf of the population of earth.

We find that you've become somewhat,
how can we put it mildly....
      unsavory
ever since you started drinking.  We've
found that you have not been taking
your job seriously at all since that time

We were understanding at first.  Your
job?  It's not an easy one.  It tolerates
almost no failure, and requires both
physical and mental capacity that is
beyond what most of us can spare.

However...we feel that the alcohol is
affecting your judgement and character
in a way that we can no longer accept.
Below, we've listed the particularly
heinous abuses of your power


1.  Taking bets on what you can make people fall in love with.  John is now smitten with a cactus while Jenny can't stay away from the inflatable Santa Claus on the Morgans' lawn.
2.  Having very attractive women fall in love for your...erm...personal pleasure.  That's just offensive
3.  Having members of the same family fall in love.  The vulgarity of it all is just appalling!  It's an ****** epidemic!
4.  Shooting your arrows at Rhinoceroses and then laughing as they charge a poor unsuspecting person is not funny.
5.  Likewise, shooting an unsuspecting person and having them fall in love with a Rhinoceros who doesn't reciprocate is equally unfunny
6.  Last, but not least...Please fix the Republican Candidates.  Mitt Romney and Rick ******* are trying to get married next week.  While I'm happy that they are now "for" gay marriage, this cannot be tolerated.


So?  Do you have anything to say for
yourself?  Is that alcohol I smell on your
breath?  You don't even care, do you?
Well...we have no choice but to revok---OW!

Oh dear.

left foot
right foot
left foot
left foot.

Face.

******.

Why is it that we fall in love?

Is love a trap, a giant pit that we unsuspectingly trip into?
Do we lie at the bottom peering at the light above?

Is love like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute?
Do we flail helplessly as we plummet to the ground?

Falling is painful, uncertain, and something we try to avoid.
Except in the case of love.

I don't like falling.

I think I'm going to grow into love instead...

They're a normal family
As normal as they can be

The father is a veteran of WWII
He runs a tight ship
but one can tell by
looking into his eyes
(the one that works)
that he loves his wife and children

The mother isn't a homemaker
because she's forced to
she actually loves the challenge
of keeping a household in order
it gives her something
to take pride in

The daughter is sweet sixteen
bright as the stars in the night sky
She wants to be a concert pianist
drawing in crowds of thousands
to listen to sweet melodic
sensations

The son is naught but an infant
slowly learning the benefit
of moving in order to get places
his eyes constantly wander
in wonder at his surroundings
innocence in its true form


They are a normal family

But they're not.

Look closely at the father

You can see the mangled remnants of his chest
Where he fell on top of a grenade
He is, indeed, a veteran of WWII.  
His name is on the large memorial in Washington D.C.
Just another young man willing to sacrifice
for something he believed in

His wife died in 1926 from complications during pregnancy
She never got to see her daughter's face
as the doctors carried her from the room
The mother's pale face and unliving eyes
staring at a nondescript hospital ceiling

The daughter's crushed skull is the byproduct
of a drunk driver who is still haunted by
the vision of teenage dreams sliced
apart by windshield glass in 1985
He drinks alone at home now

The child has a gunshot wound through his neck
a stray bullet from a gang fight that found flesh and blood,
just as the man who pulled the trigger intended it to
every time the infant giggles, one can hear the gurgle shortly after

This family exists somewhere outside our consciousness
They don't go on vacations to Disney World
You won't see them at the corner grocery store
They don't Celebrate the Holidays
They don't have
    a favorite sports team
    a favorite pair of shoes
    a favorite band
  
What they have is eachother
four random souls that found one another
lost in the ether
living their afterlife
the best they can

I once knew a guy who walked a thousand miles

with no shoes on his feet

     to prove his love

When he got there, she turned him down

she had found someone else

while she was waiting for him



I once knew a guy who climbed the tallest mountain

with naught but his hands and his own strength

     to prove his commitment

By the time he returned, she had moved on

she was tired of waiting for him



I once knew a guy who swam 'cross the ocean

with only the breath in his lungs

     to prove his passion

            He was eaten by a shark.

Anyway...

I won't walk across great distances for you
I won't scale rugged mountains for you
I won't swim across large bodies of water for you

But I'll totally give you a back rub later if you want

A Fever.

The kind that consumes you completely
and totally.  The kind that taunts you by
playing with physics.  

You're so hot, yet as you throw off the covers...you shiver
You've been sweating for hours...yet your mouth is barren of moisture

You lie as still as possible.  All movement equals pain.
Don't roll over
Don't scratch that itch
Don't even think about it
Curl into a ball and
Embrace the stillness

You're delerious as you flit
between wakefulness and sleep
never quite sure where you are
at any given time

Your dreams are drawn in the style of Dali
Colors everywhere, bright and vivid.  
The beauty makes you want to cry
To scream at the heavens,
Yell until your voice gives out.
Why?  Why are we forced to live
in such a bleak and dreary world
when such beauty lies
just beyond our eyelids.

The heavens answer.

You wake up in agony.  Your head is
Spinning
Thumping
Pounding so hard that your eyesight vibrates

For a brief moment, everything makes sense
Everything in the universe comes together
into a brilliant cosmic speck of enlightenment

It's wonderful and terrible.  
It's beautiful and disgusting
Your mind is reeling
The comprehension is too much

You love the pain
The pain is freedom

As it envelopes you,
the realization hits you
that you won't remember

You scramble to write it down
As much as you can before the
dullness replaces the fire

It won't matter

You'll read the words that you've
written on the paper much like
an archaeologist reads ancient
heiroglyphics.

Knowing, but not understanding.

Pain wins, you lose.  Unconsciousness

Then you wake up,
still dizzy from the fever.

You
Look around your room
and wonder why you
Feel

Empty

He was definitely dead.  That much could be gathered.  He was standing over his own body, sixty feet away from the car.  fifty-nine feet away from  the telephone pole.  The pool of blood on the blacktop was rippling from the sheets of rain that were piercing it.  The rain bounced off of his lifeless eyes, staring on into the cloudy sky.   His shocked expression was forever frozen on his face.  He walked around the corpse, both fearful and excited.  He was dead....He was DEAD!  He was on the other side!  He looked around, searching for the 'white light',  but all he found  was a man dressed in a ratty  trench coat staring directly at him.  Rotting teeth smiled at him under a grungy  Fedora in a way that reminded him of a jack-o-lantern carved into the likeness of Indiana Jones that had been left out past Thanksgiving.  A withered hand beckoned him.

He was not hesitant.  He was not fearful.  

Those were emotions controlled by a brain that was currently about as useful as a bag full of gelatin.  He strode forward and took the man's hand.  It was neither hot nor cold.  They were no longer in the rain.  They were in a room with a large monitor
sitting in front of a station of various knobs, buttons, and switches.  A large leather chair apathetically awaited use .  He was aware that none of these objects  actually existed, because they were in the place where things don't exist.  Still, he sat down
and turned on the monitor.  He looked at the labels.  Some were obvious, such as P L A Y,  P A U S E, and S T O P.  Others were strange, like the ones labeled F I R S T S and L A S T S.  He pressed the former.  A list appeared with items as simple as "Kiss" to ones as specific as "Sprained Left Ankle in November".

He chose the former.

The screen went blank, then a video appeared.  It was a boy and a girl lying on a hill on a blanket at the onset of dusk.  The boy he instantly recognized as himself. The boy brushed his hand against hers.  She let him.  Fingers now entwined as they stared at each other.  At the time it had felt like hours, but it was less than a
minute before lips pushed apart to make way for tongues.  His first kiss.  It didn't take him long to figure out how the machine worked from that point on.  

He spent years going through every second of his life and reliving it from a new perspective. It didn't matter, he had all the time that never was and never would be.  He saw his mistakes and his triumphs, his loves and his heartbreaks.  Finally, he decided he was
finished.  It was time to go.  The man in the Fedora smiled.  Smiled that Cheshire smile

They were in a hallway.  It seemed to stretch for miles.  Every twenty paces or so, there was a person, standing on a platform, obscured in darkness.  He walked to the first one.
A light flickered on.  It was his mother.  She looked like she did when he was a boy, vibrant and full of life.  She never lost that, even as her body aged and her health declined, she always had something to smile about.  He talked to this apparition of his mother.   They talked for hours about his life, of random topics.  Things they had never had time to talk about when they were both alive.  After some time, she gave him one of her wry
smiles.  He nodded and made his way to the next person.  His father.  

He continued this for quite some time.  He talked to everyone from his brother to a guy he used to get high with in college.  Years passed as he said his final goodbyes to all the people in his life
that he had ever known.  All of them were happy for him.  All of them had something to tell him that he had never known about them in life.  None of them were real.  When he was done, he turned to the man in the fedora.  A smile.  A smile that had a personality all its own, a smile that simultaneously showed compassion and seething hatred.

The last room.  No one said it was the last room, but it had that feeling of finality to it. It was spartan, nothing in it except a marble floor that seemed to stretch for eternity in every direction.  It probably did.  In front of him were two pedestals.  On each of those
pedestals was himself.  The one on the left was wearing a fine tailored suit, had radiating skin and a smile that cameras feasted on.  The one on the right was a stark contrast.  The teeth he had left were hanging lazily from the roots.  His hair that he had left was thin, oily, and ridden with lice.  His mouth turned upwards in an insane grin that was only
matched by his thirsty, bloodshot eyes that seemed to bulge from his pockmarked skin

                                          They both spoke at once.

You were born on                                           You were born on
July 3, 1985.  Your                                           July 3, 1985.  Your
parents fed your                                         mother died when you
curiosity at a young                                     were 4.  Your father
age.  Your passion                                   turned to alcohol.  He
was art.  You painted                                 took his pain out on you.
your first work when                                     You dropped out of    
you were nine.  By the                                high school and moved
time you were 16, you                             as far away from this
were renowned as a                             life as you could.  You
artistic prodigy.  You                      quickly discovered a bad crowd.
attended the Art                                     You met a girl, Cindy.
Institute of Chicago                                       You got her pregnant.
on a full scholarship.                                   You started selling drugs
It was there that you                                     to make ends meet
would meet Claire,                                       for your accidental family
your future wife. By                                       It wasn't long before
the time you completed                                     You made a mistake
your school, every                                             and ended up in jail.
museum wanted a                                        years later, when you
piece of your work                                       were released
hanging in their gallery                               you found that Cindy      
Your work would be                                       had killed herself
remembered for                                                   and your son.
hundreds of years after                                       You had no job          
your death.  You had                                                 no skills
a wonderful family,                                        You spent your days
fame, fortune, and                                          doing odd jobs for
everything that came                                   money.  Money that
with it.  You lived                                           You spent on drugs
until 89, where you                                        Until the age of 45
died peacefully in                                       Where you froze on a
your bed, surrounded                           street corner, surrounded
by loved ones.  This                        by human excrement.  This
is your life's best                                           is your life's worst
possible outcome                                         possible outcome



He nodded, then looked at the man in the fedora.  That smile crept up.  A smile like a hyena. He snapped his fingers.  Two doors appeared.  One was Oaken and battered.  The grains of wood barely visible over years of neglect.  The other door was new and had just been  painted with a fresh coat of sky blue paint.  

The man spoke for the first time.

This is the last decision you shall ever make.  The door on your left will lead you to the  afterlife, and the judgement that awaits you.  Whatever is decided, that is where you will spend eternity.  The door on the right will allow you to be reborn as a new soul.  This one will no longer exist.

He gave it a good long ponder.  Had he been good enough in life to pass the judgement?  What if he ended up in a hellish nightmare for the rest of eternity?  Could he do better
if he started fresh?  The thoughts swirled about him like a whirlwind until finally.

Years later

He chose.

The man in the fedora smiled.

Are you bored?
Do you feel there's no point to the things you do?
Is your life missing an element of excitement?

Fear not, I have just the thing

Put the Awe back in Awesome
Put the back Zing back in Amazing
Put the Fanta back into Fantastic

What?  Fanta is great.

Anyway

It's rather simple.  

The next time you have to do something you find boring, depressing, or unfulfilling, do it FOR SCIENCE!

Some examples:

I'll be out later, I have to do my English homework...FOR SCIENCE
I'm giving the big presentation tomorrow...FOR SCIENCE
I got into a car accident this morning...FOR SCIENCE
I don't feel so well, I need to use the crapper...FOR SCIENCE.  I'll be in there awhile.  For Science.
Someone tried to steal my purse, so I stabbed them...FOR SCIENCE

I guarantee that if you use this handy tip, your self esteem will rise, and people will find you exponentially more interesting!

Or they might think you're crazy

They definitely won't think you're boring, though.

So go out there and show the world what you're made of

For Science!

Bro  ken  Po     ems
a re of  ten  dif   fi cult
to  co   mpr e h en  d


B    ut ..... .... .. .
So ar e
b  ro  k  enh  e  ar  ts
bro ke np r o  mi se s
            a n d
b r ok   end   re am s

When I was but a boy
no older than 4

       I insisted that the number of pickles
       on my sandwich be representative
       of my age.  

4 years.  4 pickles
5 years.  5 pickles
6 years.  6 pickles


This went on for awhile.

    Eventually, though, I felt it was time to end that particular tradition.

28 pickles was getting ridiculous...

There are days when it feels as if the world
is made of glass, and I'm dripping in oil.
Every slick surface reflects back a person
I don't want to see.
I must tread carefully at these times, for
if I'm careless, I will slip
and be shredded by the shattered earth

There are days when it feels as if you are
made of glass, and only I can console you.
I hold you tight, allowing you to
cut through me.
I must not grip too strongly, however...for
if I'm careless, you will shatter
and only shards of you will remain

There are days when it feels as if I am
made of glass, and you can see through me
You see my flaws, and accept me
for who I am
Still, I must be alert for there are
those who would throw stones
leaving you to pick up the pieces

There are days when the world is the world
and we are ourselves.
Those are the days of our lives
worth remembering.

In my mind exists a pit of black quicksand
where memories come to die, slowly
sinking into the deep abyss

You are in a glass box,
sliding down
staring up
begging for rescue

If I rescue you from the depths
I shatter the glass reflecting
the perfection of who I
want to remember

Leaving only reality

So the real question is

Should I forget the goddess?
Or should I remember the devil?

(Warning:  Explicit and mildly disturbing)

The door to the room burst open as two lovers twisted into the
gaudy motel room, causing the roaches to scatter to safety.
His tongue was exploring her mouth as he pushed her up against
the wall.  She wrapped her legs around his waist in anticipation.

They made their way to the bed, ******* as they went.  His brown
leather jacket landed on the back of a chair, followed by his shirt.  Her
blouse fluttered carelessly to the floor.  He pushed against her and then...

a pause

He saw what she was looking at and smiled.  "Don' worry babe, I only use
that on people I don't like.  I like you".  He took the gun out of the waistband
of his pants and set it on the nightstand.  Hesitation, but soon more clothes
were shed until there were no more.   His eyes hungrily explored her body,
preparing for a night to remember.  She smiled and bit her lip as his eyes
looked her over.  "You know what really gets me off?".  He grunted in
response, to which she whispered in his ear.  He laughed.  "**** you're
*****, girl".  He acquiesced, though.  His mouth went on her breast, followed
by a soft bite.  She gasped. He was shocked when liquid trickled onto his tongue.  
He pulled back and looked up.  She was just staring at him, alluring eyes begging him to continue.  He felt slightly light headed.  He stopped.  He tried moving away, but he again found himself at her breast.

Another taste.

That feeling of light-headedness again.  Several times this happened, he tried to start the deed that he had come here for, only to find himself back for more.  He slowly realized that he couldn't move away.  He was trapped.  He now suckled in earnest.  His brain screamed for him to stop, but it was out of his control now.  She stroked his hair, traced her fingers along the scars on his back.  Bullet wounds.  "It's ok, sweetie.  You're a bad man, but we're gonna make it better, aren't we".  His thoughts raced, but there was nothing he could do.  
His body was betraying him.  He was paralyzed.

A shudder

He felt odd, his whole body felt as if he was being wrapped in a warm blanket.  Soothing voices lulling him to sleep.  His body relaxed.  He felt himself slowly shrinking.  He felt all his memories rushing by him, unaware that they were slowly being erased.  He was in his late 30s, yet he now looked to be no older than 17.  He forgot about the first time he'd shot someone in cold blood.  He forgot about his father drunkenly beating him.  He forgot nights in the emergency room.  His body continued to shrink, as his memories left.  He was no older than a toddler now.  He forgot the first woman he struck in anger.
He forgot becoming his father.  He curled into the fetal position. The woman sat
up now, and wrapped him in her arms, rocking him slowly.  "There there...that's better now.  You gonna be a good man this time.  We keep tryin' 'til we get it right, won't we?"

He was an infant.  Newly born.  Finally he released.  He looked up at the woman he would now call mother.  It wasn't the same woman that he had come into the room with. She smiled down at him, earning a yawn from the babe.

"That's right, you go to sleep now.  Things'll be different in the morning"

She kissed his forehead and wrapped him up in his old leather jacket while she dressed.  When she was finished, she looked around the room.  Seeing that everything was accounted for, she picked up the child and vanished into the night, determined to get it right this time.

Max didn't even want to be there.  His coworkers had invited him, and he hadn't had an excuse handy.  

In truth, Max's coworkers didn't want him to be there, either.  They had secretly hoped that he wouldn't come.  Everyone else was going, though, so they felt bad not asking.  Now they wished they hadn't

Here he was, though, sitting around a table in a seedy local pub, waiting for "The great Garbo: Magician and Hypnotist".  Probably just another hack who was filling time between kiddy birthday parties.  The show was supposed to have started ten minutes ago, but hadn't, and now Max was being forced to socialize with people who he spent a great deal of effort trying to avoid most of the time.  It was crap, and he wasn't happy about it.

In truth, Max was very unhappy in general, but in a way that his brain was unable to put into concrete words.  He'd been unhappy for so long, in fact, that he didn't even recognize that he was unhappy.  He had just long ago come to the conclusion that the world was unpleasant, and he was the only person who understood that.  Everyone else was a foolish prat who could barely keep from being distracted long enough by the next shiny toy to notice.

He regarded his mostly empty beer that he had been nursing.  He heard his co-workers talking about some new superhero movie when the lights finally dimmed and a man walked onto the beer-stained stage and threw his cape (the **** had a cape!) dramatically over his shoulder.  "Good evening, my fine ladies and gentlemen!  I, the Great Garbo, welcome you.  You may have seen so called 'magic' before, but I promise you that when you leave here tonight, you will be filled with awe and wonder!"

Max yawned, rather loudly, to glares from his co-workers, as Garbo continued his spiel.  He looked lazily around the room, hoping to catch the eye of the waiter for another drink.  If he was going to be forced to watch this swill, he was going to at least be liquored up.

By the time Max looked back towards the stage, Garbo had wrapped up, and was starting.  He began with a number of standard tricks with rings and never-ending handkerchiefs.  Each time, Max would mumble something under his breath.

"...Obviously had it up his sleeve"
"Trick ring, there's clearly some sort of mechanism there"
"...had that deck set up before"

Meanwhile, his co-workers shushed him as they attempted, in vain, to enjoy the show.

Soon, though, the magician got more creative, juggling a set of ***** that turned into doves, which then flew back into his hands as ***** again.  Then he turned his entire coat from dingy black to a brilliant  red with a wave of his hand.  Max remained steadfast in his desire to remain unimpressed.  Surely this was some sort of electronic trickery.  He stifled another yawn, then decided to go to the restroom.

He got up, and tapped one of his co-workers on the shoulder.  Was it Reed?  Or James.  His co-worker looked at him warily.  "Hey James, I need to take a ****.  Need to get through".  He looked annoyed.  Must've been Reed.  "Can't you wait until the act is over?".  Max rolled his eyes, and then mustered up as much sarcasm as he could (which was quite a lot). "I'm sure the 'Great Garbo' won't miss me.  I'll just be a minute".  Reed (yes, definitely Reed) sighed and got up to pull his chair back so Max could get out.  Max picked his way through the surprisingly large crowd towards the bathrooms, not apologizing on the way, when he heard a voice.  "You sir, you would like to volunteer, would you  not?"

Max turned, and Garbo was looking at him expectantly.  He hadn't heard what Garbo had been talking about. He recovered his wits and responded "Nah, I'm sure one of these simpletons would love to, though".  From the crowd where he had left he heard someone yell "Oh come on, Max, maybe he can hypnotize you into having a sense of ******* humor".  Max gave the finger in the general direction of the voice, earning him a few boos from the crowd.  Garbo put his hand up to calm the crowd.  "Come now...Max, is it?  Surely you've been impressed with some of the show tonight?".  Max scoffed.  "I'm impressed that you're able to make a living off of parlor tricks", he said, before turning back towards the bathroom.

"Max, I think you need to come up here"

Max suddenly stopped.  He felt like he had been going somewhere else...but that couldn't be the case, he was supposed to be going onto the stage.  He turned and amiably made his way up the few stairs

"Now Max seems to be unimpressed with the show.  Shall I show him some real magic?"

The crowd clapped

Max wondered how he'd gotten on stage.  He had been going towards the bathroom....he needed to...

"Max, you seem unhappy to be here.  I think I know what'll cheer you up, though."

Garbo reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small rubber ball.  

Max suddenly came back to himself.  "I don't know what drugs you gave me to convince me to get up here, but this show is over and I'm leaving.  I'll be sure to let the police know that your show relies on your audience being high"

Garbo grinned a toothy grin as Max walked away, and then spoke right before Max got down the first step, dragging each word out carefully.

"Who's...a...good....boy"

Max stopped and considered this.  I mean...he certainly wasn't bad.  There was certainly room for improvement, for sure, but he wasn't bad, so he must be good.  He slowly turned and stared at Garbo, and was surprised as his mouth started moving.

"I am."

Wait. What?  Max's mind reeled and his eyes widened in fear, but he did not run.  His legs didn't want to move.  His eyes seemed to be locked onto the ball.  That looked like a really nice ball.  He wanted it.

Garbo took a step forward.

"Who's a good boy"

This time Max answered more confidently.  "I am.  I'm a good boy"

The crowd clapped and whistled, though they weren't sure what they were seeing.

Garbo moved the ball back and forth, and Max watched it intently.  
He wished Garbo would throw the ball.

"Who's a good boy!"

"Me! I'm a good boy!"

"Whosagoodboy!"

"I am!  I am!  I'm a good boy!"

Max had fallen down on all fours at this point, though he barely noticed.  Everything seemed to be growing in size.

"Who's a good boy!"

I am!  

"Who's a good boy!"

(I am!)
Woof!

"Do you want the ball?!"

(Yes! Yes, throw the ball!)
(Oh god, what's happening?!)
Woof! Woof!

"Do you want it?!"

(Make it stop!)
(Yes! Throw it!)

Max could smell so many things, now.  He smelled the beer, he smelled Reed's aftershave.  He smelled the strangeness that Garbo reeked of.  Garbo scared him, but Garbo also had a ball.

Garbo finally relented and threw the ball, and a yellow streak flashed by him as an excitable Golden Retriever ran to intercept it.

Max picked up the ball in his mouth and stood proudly.  There was still something scratching at his brain, though, and he couldn't figure out what it w--what had happened?  Everything was wrong.  He couldn't stand up.  Max wanted to yell for help, but to do that he would need to drop the...

...ball!  He had the ball!  The man who threw it was calling for him.  He ran back towards the man, who pointed at the ball.  The man wanted the ball, but Max didn't want to give it back.  It was his ball.  Suddenly, the man had a treat.  Max dropped the ball and took the treat.  He heard a loud sound and he turned to see...

..the crowd.  The crowd was up on their feet cheering.  His mind filled with fear again as he realized that something was terribly wrong.  He felt wrong, everything looked and sounded and smelled wrong.  He was a....

"Good boy, Max.  Good boy!"

Max received a pat on the head, and the scratching at the back of his head faded a little.  "Crate, Max", said the man, pointing to a small crate at the edge of the stage that several people in the audience could have sworn wasn't there at the start of the show.  Max ran to the crate, where he found a bone and a squeak toy, which he bit into to hear the satisfying noise that it made.  Laughter echoed from the outside of the crate as the man closed the door.

"Everyone, a round of applause for my assistant Max!"

Suddenly Max resurfaced.  He was acutely aware now that he was in a cage.  Fear gripped him.  Surely his co-workers had noticed!  He strained to look through the bars of the crate.  He spotted them, and they were applauding excitedly.  He saw, with trepidation, that his coat was no longer on the chair where he'd left it.  He had been erased from their memories.  A guttural terror crept up through his stomach which became a frightened whimper as the sound was forced through his new snout.  No one seemed to hear him.

Max lost track of time, but eventually the show ended and everyone left.  They wouldn't remember what happened, only that they were left with a feeling of awe and wonder upon leaving.  They wouldn't remember Max.  At this point, Max was curled up in the back corner of the crate, unwilling to move even as Garbo opened it, reached in, and started scratching his head.  

Suddenly, as if the final structural support of a dam had been breached, the endorphins from the scratch overwhelmed what remained of Max.  He was filled with the warmth of something he had been unable to feel his whole life.  His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he started panting excitedly.

Max was happy.

You ever get that feeling
when you see two people talking
to one another, and you can just tell
by looking into their eyes, that they are
a few simple words away from ripping each
other's clothes off and making passionate, absurd,
raucus, twisting, contorting, upside down, sideways,
vibrating, teeth-rattling,  skin-slapping *** right in front
of anybody and everybody who happens to be walking by?

"Why the hell not?"

Good question.

Little Miss Muffet,
she certainly loved it;
rolling with boys in the hay

She always had company
but now her belly's a bump, you see
The father?  No one could say

You're like a beautiful poem, my dear
it's plain to see
it's plain to see
I'm now caught within your verse, I fear
I'm lost at sea
I can't be free

You've trapped me in your sonnet
each syllable draws me deep
like a lilting lullaby
that carries me to sleep

You've written this beautiful world, my dear
I've fallen in
I've let you win
but the story was never about me, I fear

I'm reading the lines meant for him

Little Jack Horner
On the street corner
His eyes are empty and gray
He hates to bother
but could you spare a dollar?
Everyone has debts that need paid

I'm terribly lost

It seems that every fork
that I encounter
on this road of life
I choose the one
that puts me further from my goal

Everyone else seems to know where they're going
It's really quite frustrating.

Do I really have that bad a sense of direction?

I've been looking for you for years
The one I can give my heart to
It's here
in this box
all *******
with fancy twine and tissue paper.
It has a tag on it that says "From:  Hopelessly in Love"
I haven't filled out the To: yet

I will once I find you

I want to meet you
I want to become your friend
I want to fall in love
I want the feeling of your hand in mine
I want lazy summer days spent laying on the grass with you (just watching the clouds drift by)
I want frosty winter nights curled in a blanket with you (sipping hot cocoa in my arms)
I want to smile for no other reason than because
you are happy
I want to share your fears and sorrows because
no one should have
to bear them alone

I want to find the one
who is worthy of this affection
who is worthy of my time
who is worthy of my love

I will present my heart to you
when I find you

If I find you....

...I hope I find you