It is
And it's changing
The wind into summer shower
Into mushrooms and birds mouth
From river to the sewer
It is and it's changing
From dark to light to dim with
Speckles of sun born by the
Mirror in you childlike hand
You are catching dust bunnies
Sneezing and laughing
And the dirt could be followed by magic
And the kiss isn't greased by the notion
Of sin and the sin is only a word from the book
Death and insanity
Are frightening and profound
Your world is built from
No buts but ands
And they flow into peace
Just as well as the film of oil
On the ***** puddle
Astonishes you with
An iridescent rainbow
Duality is born by fear
You split and separate so
Caught up in the survival game
To keep that face and partake
Of wealth and fame
Empty is locked in the dungeon
And the words interlock
In plain patterns
Yet alive as they produce sounds
And the smell of tangerines
On a tree by the coast of Sicily
Reminds you of the day
When you could still enjoy
The warmth of sun
It absorbed into its juicy flesh
And there's no need to run
No need to stay
No need to cut off the ties
When life offers you more
And the heat and cold are feelings
That gets names as they replace each other
As they flow unstoppable
Dripping reactions
Burning like acid and smooth like milk
All in one glass
And when you have no thoughts
Ask questions
And when you feel the pain
Stay present and consider humanity

I've gotten to the point
where I can feel
grateful for

arms that held you
when I couldn't
love that found you
even if it didn't
break through

cradling my lovely
while saving me
the ache

of a try
not ready

and if you
are my future
then they are my past
and I will love them, too

I heard something today.
And it was not like anything I had ever heard.
It wasn't,
The song of a grosbeak,
Or the rustle of spring leaves,
Or the whisper of morning breeze,
Or the deafening silence of the sky above,
Or the patter of rain on a gloomy winter eve,
Or the crackle of that fire,too visible in my eyes,
Or the throbbing of my heart,seeking someone,
Or the static from somewhere unknown,
Or the hush,descending over a crowd;of faces all too alien to me,
Or the echo of familiar voices under that autumn-struck tree,
Or the footsteps of a mother rushing towards her crying child,
Or the Quiet singing to someone in the wild,
Or the beauteous music of the Orient,
Or of the Occident.
All these sounds sound humble
Before what I heard today.
.
I heard your voice!

I don't believe in love
the same way I don't believe in god
how could I put my faith in something I can't hold in the palm of my hand?
maybe that's why I got so tired of my hands always coming up empty when I tried to grasp the idea of love
I still haven't met God
but I imagine your lips and heaven feel pretty similar
and I still don't know if I put my faith in you
whether I should call it love or religion
but I do know that if love is real
it can be molded into the shape of the devil’s smile
and I've yet to learn the difference between your hands and hell
because even burning love leaves behind oozing blisters
and I've yet to find a saving grace to stick around to mend my wounds

if i could give you one thing in life,
i would give you,
the ability,
to see yourself,
through my eyes,
only then will you realize,

how special you are to me.