We all need to play, play is the way
To manifest our quiddity,
Alleviate stress, perform at our best,
Laughter can render lucidity.

But we insist by rational twist
On living in stress and stupidity,
Ignoring our nub and joining the club
That actively sponsors morbidity.

No need to frown or silence the clown
To fake a mature identity,
Success can be won while people have fun
And flourish in spontaneity.

I hold your pictures in my hand,
as if they were life itself.
Some torn, some bent, some broken glass,
where I swept them off the shelf.

But now that anger it has passed,
and tears they fill my eyes.
I know you never meant to go.
I too am dead, inside.

Why could we not have had more time,
together you and I?
Before your sickness came along,
and took you from my side.

You fought so hard to stay with me,
and smiled through the pain.
So beautiful and brave you were,
sunshine amongst the rain.

Always I will remember,
and treasure what we had.
The mem'ry of our time together,
makes me happy, makes me glad.

I wish that I could follow you,
but here for now must stay.
To tell our baby of her mom,
and why she went away.

And tears come now not just to me,
as Rachael starts to cry.
I will kiss and hold her close for you,
goodbye my love, goodbye.

let's go back, you an me
dance with me, i'll twirl with the dust mop
and you'll laugh and pick dust out of my hair and say i'll never be old

let's go back, you an me
record me stealthily when i sing obscenely-loud songs in the shower
and play them over and over and over as i blush different shades of fire

let's go back, you an me
tickle me while i'm tryin' to play hopscotch
as i beg for mercy between gasps and giggles and threaten to wet my pants

let's go back, you an me
take me for never-ending piggy back rides, pretendin' i'm flyin'
then dump me on the dewy grass, make me laugh because you're laughing

let's go back, you an me
i'll push you in the fountain and you'll grin
and pull me in with you, we'll float on our backs
ignorin' the stares
and watch night fall in little pieces, here and here
except for in your eyes, which blind me

let's go back, you an me
paint sloppy, clumsy kisses on my cheeks
and make stupid looking necklaces out of sparkly plastic beads you know ill never wear

let's go back, you an me
whisper in my ear forever
so that now i can hear you in my head
and smile smiles that don't reach my eyes
and dance with the dust mop pretendin' that it's you

They sat on the stoop,
on the rooftop,
on the grass.
They watched,
they saw,
they turned away
in disgust
and disarray;
vowed never to see,
but to be.

Ideas sprayed on parchment:
plans for the future,
true ideals
indestructible,
fit to last.
It was their turn
to undo the past.

They would create change,
destroy order,
and recycle the entrails
into a revolution,
one that would have an outcome;
an outcome not of the worst
but of the best.
They’d pierce straight through
this vanilla-stained vest.

They looked in each others' eyes
and smiled at what they saw,
for within each pupil
glowed a fire;
a fire of the downfall
and revival
of this world
they've come to know
and hate.

They knew one day soon
their hatred would spin
and move in the other direction;
the direction of light,
of true happiness
and peace.
The soothing sparks
rocketing from their eyes
convinced them so.

They knew they would succeed,
unlike others who have tried,
they knew how to win,
knew not to try
but to do.
They would release
their envisioned paradise
from their grasp
and upon the oblivious.

But as they grew older
an event occurred
that would cause a change,
a change that would make sure
to reject any other,
a change that would be the annihilator
of their dystopic utopia.

A small occurrence,
unrecognizable,
a brick thrown
shatters through the window,
triggers a false realization.
The shards succumb them
into the seducing
sepulchral-inducing cage
that keeps them bookmarked
to the same opening page.

Vents crack,
in pours the fog.
The mist once loved,
now loathed,
seeps through the fracture,
smothers their hope,
breathes their air,
air they used to dream,
now nothing more than a theme.

Fear drags them down
like the others,
devours wonders of the unknown,
slashes at their flesh,
shrieks of monotone,
visions escape from the wound,
wounds of which sealed
with reminders of the failed,
never to be reopened,
their appetite remains forever lost.

Now they walk
back and forth,
forth and back,
hands in pockets,
shoulders shrugged.
What's the time?
They've lost track.
All watches are smashed,
big hand frozen on yesterday.

They are the lost,
previous dreams forgotten,
left in the rain,
drifted away
down the drain,
never to regain
their once beloved ambition.
Instead they gather
gritty ammunition
and float towards
certainty, the predictability
of a future that ceases in a puddle.
They are the lost.