I sleep alone, under a cloud of advertisements
trying their hardest to crawl in bed with my hopes and dreams
I cannot fight it

All I can do, is lie there in silence and try not to scream
for fear that they might buy the rights
and try and sell it back to me.

When i put this future in the microwave:
Would you say it pops like popcorn?
Or like kneecaps?
Bottlecaps?

And if i wrapped it in tinfoil
Would it spark?
Or disappear?
Or pop at all?

And if i placed the plug between my lips
And closed my eyes,
Would the door open?
Would time really matter?
Would my mother judge my current life decisions?

And then if the morning after i woke
Electrified, paralyzed and confused
Would wool feel still so itchy?
Would i still be where i stood?
Or there at all?

so again we reach the end of the year
like the end of the line
like a cliffs edge

the ground that we all stood on disappears
and all at once
we jump to our deaths

but we never really die
we just fall until summer is over

and everyone falls in different directions
i fall down
and everyone i wanted to be a fall-buddy with
seems to fall up
and all of us fall of the earth
just in different directions
which leaves me to wonder how on earth
are there so many people on this planet
during the summer
when they've all fallen off?

sometimes when i blink my eyes
i imagine i'll be taken by surprise when they open
attached to a needle and woven through the earth
and in a moment i'd cross an ocean of a distance
to find myself balancing on one foot
soot dusted face
from moving through space and time so
spontaneously
balancing on the edge of a cliff
a balance beam
ready to dive in hold the scream down and breathe

deep breaths
sleeping
no not in bed
or in death
but sleeping while awake
dreaming while standing
closing my eyes and getting wisked away by reality
in only a way a dream has the right to move me so fluidly

******* i want to fight right now,
i have so much free energy,
the rents cheap, i've made ends meet
i got great sleep had great dreams
but i'm not fighting
i'm waiting
But god ****** i've been waiting to fight
fight for my life because my life is worth fighting for so i should always be fighting right?
shouldn't i be acknowledging, that if i don't fight
i'm shouting empty threats and just
well...stalling?
     maybe i'll fight for that first...
swing metaphorical fists at not so metaphorical time
or is time metaphorical too?
     i should fight for that next...
fight for time, and then the time that's being wasted
while fighting for more time in which to spend fighting for time
   and i have no ******* idea how to fight for that
maybe fighting is pointless and we all just look in mirrors
and take freeshots at ourselves, by curling our biceps
and trying to hit our reflection but just end up hitting ourselves
yet you are only your legacy, fighting yourself leaves short trails
only followed by who looks back in the mirror, and that person is finite
until they fight for something else

So bear with me because i'm trying to figure out what life was
     You know
     What it used to be
and what it is now
        and if i'm doing life correctly
like if the sweat on my brow
       is supposed to weigh me down this much

so i asked a couple on a walk
    what is life
and they sarcastically answered that life is a box of chocolates
  You never know what you're going to get
i believe that saying died out
when single flavor boxes of chocolates were invented
so we're left to wonder
and stumble
and realize what life means just before we die
because everyone always told us
    *you're too young to understand this just yet

Subtle waves make similar sounds to the desires
Drowning amid our fascination with the
"What If's" in life

The spastic sensations navigating our spines
Like fingertips navigating a writhing map
Curling as they make their way up and down

And so if we leave the "Ifs" for "thens"
Then they no longer sway but sit still
Our bodies lie dormant, separate and sensationless

Thus a hand in your hand says in silence
That "What If's" occupy no space
Between our clasped palms

Clouds disappear as soon as we find
No need for the moons slight shine
Exploring from behind closed eyes

No space between our lips to contest
The absence of space between our bodies
Nervously sailing above the waters wake

The air was cool no vessels to shield from the wind
For the boats had given us our privacy
To teach each other of music and dance

And music is the melody that drifts lightly
Upon your skin and your legs and your neck
Whispers softly in your ear so you fall victim to its passion
Suddenly pressing yourself against another
Heartbeats swiften and bodies move in unison
Caressing into shimmering heat that strips on every beat
Hands fall safely on chests
And suddenly the song descends into silence
The only sound is made by locked gazes
And breaths of amazement.

So why stray from possibilities
Why think of "What if's"
When one look and one touch
Led to music like this?

I wish i could ask someone this question
"is god so bad?"
without hearing a pre-programmed
yes
or no

i want to hear the gears shifting
and see their eyes lifting towards the sky
with one small tear drop
because they accidentally gazed at the sun

You know
the familiar face of thought spiders
spinning webs until all is said and spun

and i want them to ask me why i asked
a question that has no answer

why i asked a question
whose only purpose is to demonstrate how right i am

why i'm so pompous

i want to be left speechless

Midnight is the best time to make the worst decisions
the worst time to make the best decisions
the only time you realize that

hey
i just went around the earth
cool

but above all it's the time to appreciate the things that won't be there in the morning when you wake up
because we love stars right?

i asked the water for advice
It had me lay on the shore and close my eyes
While its wake licked my heels, speaking slowly
As i listened and took notes on the inside of my eyelids

When i woke, the sky was marble blue
And inside my eyes were hasty scribbles
trying to keep up with the lakes words
The water was weary then
Falling back to still sounds and quiet movement
And i, Only left with the words i had written
Sat back and closed my eyes

The water said...
Her kindness and dedication, for those she loves
and for that which she is passionate
Is a talent of the heart
though it may churn the ocean inside
causing ripples in the tide
She never leaves wanderers alone on stranded ships
Because that is the strife that lingers
coiled in between lonesome tired hands
and she is one who can feel
and truly understand

It's a talent of the heart
That you feel in her voice
And feel in her touch
and see in her face
as she smiles an skips

You are a lucky man
you are in the right place

Then the water rose
And i fled to grandmother tree
and she too spoke to me