My coat doesn't stop the shivering
The fire chills my bones
The sun is useless as always
When I'm standing by myself

My legs are numb
My fingers have lost their color
In the middle of summer
Under two pounds of covers

And I look out the window
At the people grouped together
Warm all of the time
Be it summer or winter

And I shiver alone
Callous and cold

Nothing heats as well as another warm body

There is no more lonely a role than the observer
We sit off to the side, and watch the world away
No promise of immortality could repay us for our duty
No material possessions could reward us for our time

When you can't part take in the wonders of the world
When you can't interact with your fellow man
When you must sit idle as time flows by
You can't help but feel jealous

As they talk
As they laugh
As they fight
As they cry
I watch from a safe distance
Still callous and jaded

Am I complaining?
Yes
Am I going to act on this?
No
Because I have embraced this role
Because I have decided that this is best for me
To remain back
To remain out of reach
To give up the warmth of touch

But I will soldier on
Relenting only to myself
As it is my duty
To observe
To take notes
Like a lecture
So I can pass on my lessons
To those who live in the world

To those who notice me
To those who ignore me
Know this
I am here
Envying the human life of intimacy
That I have given up

A good friend of mine once said:
"This is one of those things that funnier when you're sleep deprived."
I believe it was at 2am
And we couldn't stop laughing
Because that's what sleep deprivation does to you
It's alcohol to the under 21
It's marijuana to the cardless
The world makes perfectly no sense
And you just laugh and laugh

Then the sun comes
And you hear about the crash on the television
And remember why you aren't allowed to drink and drive

You ever just want to lay down
Look up at the stars
You yearn for it all day
And when you finally find the time to do it
It's daytime

You ever just want to stare out into the horizon
Chase the sun at 65 miles per hour
And when you finally think you've caught it
It's still millions of miles away

You ever just want to drill down
There's a bee line to China
You dig in your backyard all day
Until you're stopped by bedrock

And if you answer no
Then there is one thing I know
That everyone has reached for
It's not the stars
It's not the sun
It's not the center of the earth

There's a girl who sits two seats down
You know her name, her hobbies
And that smile you can't stop picturing
You know this girl is out there
(Or guy if you prefer)
You ever just want to reach out
And connect with her?

You know who I'm talking about
And you've probably thought the same
"I should talk to her some time"
And there's only you to blame
For the days
Weeks
Months that pass you by
Because there's a theme amongst these stanzas

That no matter how much you try
You're fingers will only slip through wisps of air.

Don't come near me
My footwork is off
My hands are unsure
I am clumsy

My words come out wrong
As uncoordinated as my movements
Causing me to hurt those around me
I am graceless

I trip over my own voice
As often as I trip over my own feet
And I collapse onto unsuspecting victims
I am inept

A one small step
Causes a wall to fall
And they clutch their heads in pain
I am awkward

I'm sorry
I can't stop my faults
You should just stand back
I am clumsy

The wind blows through your hair
At much higher speeds
Twenty stories up

The world scales down
Like a model
Twenty stories up

Two hundred feet drops off
In a surreal fashion
Twenty stories up

You think you can survive the fall
Landing on a soft pillow of cement
Twenty stories up

I told her not to leave
She never came down the stairs she used to go
Twenty stories up

It feels great to let go
Of both the world and your self
Twenty stories up

My life wouldn't feel as empty
If they wouldn't let you go
Twenty stories up

Poetry is not for the weak
Poetry is not for the dainty
Poetry is for the ones brave enough to put their minds on paper

Poetry is not for the prejudiced
Poetry is not for the close-minded
Poetry is for the ones whose preconceptions are as substantial as vapor

Poetry is not for the smart
Poetry is not for the intelligent
Poetry is for the ones clueless enough to write it

Poetry is not for him
Poetry is not for her
Poetry is for the rest of us

I don't see it very often
But when I do, it looks like this

It looks like red hair
Tied back in a pony tail
With eyes that no one thought could be so blue

It looks like 7:00 at night
As well as 6:30 in the morning
When the sun douses the sky in hue

It looks like the west
Or the east
Depending on where the mountains are

It looks like the girl three seats back
Who keeps tapping the desk nervously
Worrying about the scratch on her car

It looks like the pitch dark
With the small dots glowing
That you see when you look up at night

It looks like the beach
With the people swimming through the waves
Or lounging in the sand, soaking up the light

I never really knew beauty though
Until I first met you
With that confident smile
That you don't see very often
And eyes that no one thought could be so blue

When you can't stop smiling
When you can't stop laughing
When you don't try stopping
When you don't try sleeping
When you just keep writing
When you just keep running
When you don't stop crying
When you don't stop loving
When you keep on trying

Because, as Albert Einstein said:
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results

Prom night
She stood there all alone
Tapping her foot to the beat
In the back left corner pocket

The cue ball decided it was time to end the game of billiards
He spotted the eight ball all alone
Nodding his head to the music
And the cue ball called the shot
Into the back left corner pocket

He rolled forward
Steps calculated
Swagger restrained
Sights set on the back left corner pocket

He conversed with the eight ball
Talking to him
Coaxing him to move
Toward the back left corner pocket

The cue ball watched from a distance
Having already imparted all its momentum
As the eight ball headed
For the back left corner pocket

The eight ball was unsure
Dressed in a black button up shirt
With matching dress pants
But he continued to roll
To the back left corner pocket

He motioned for the girl to follow
And hand in hand
They left for the dance floor together
They left the back left corner pocket

The cue ball sat back and admired his work
The other billiards player left
Having lost to the usual call
The winner always sank that last shot
Into the back left corner pocket

Nothing gets done at 1 AM
No homework is finished
No bolts are tightened
No hearts are broken

Nothing gets started at 1 AM
No opening paragraphs are written
No foundations are laid
No hands are held

Nothing hurts at 1 AM
No cuts bleed
No failure shames
No silence stings

And yet we are alive at 1 AM
We keep plugging uselessly ahead
We smile to keep from frowning
We laugh to keep from crying
Because no one should be awake
At 1 AM

It may happen today
That moment of glory
When we do the impossible
and fade into legend

It might happen tomorrow
As they turn the page
You shout victoriously
and fade into legend

It might happen next week
When you take her hand in yours
Charging deeper into the plotline
and fade into legend

It started on page one
With the opening paragraph
That will enthrall a generation
and fade into legend

We are not here forever
Every story has an end
But the great will be remembered
and fade into legend

It may happen today
It's all up to you
Do it for the story
and fade into Legend