If I wrote in rhyme,
with satisfying time,
would you like it?

Does it comfort you
seeing stanzas of two,

And is it pleasing
without any meaning?

Do you mind it?

And if I were to stumble
on my own words and
my thoughts crumble
beneath the structure

of beautiful nothingness
and regress

to complexity that resembles more
the disjointed thoughts of our souls
the pain and ugly in our hearts
the way we might actually speak (gasp!)
and think
and hope
and hurt
--is that not beautiful enough
for your poetic sensibilities?

If not, I understand
and will no longer clash
my words like waves that crash
on the unforgiving sand.

You may find much to see,
but this poem means nothing to me.

Don't let this hour pass unnoticed
Don't you dare fall asleep
Don't let your life slip through your fingers
Don't ever stop searching

In these times,
I am.
Unsure of what
I see.

& If
my eyes,
have not betrayed
my heart.

I will, only know you..

As a
monster,
Medusa.

Is your snake hungry?

However long
whatever went wrong
I didn't mean it,
it was just a little mistake
and I mean
I know I'm fickle
I like rushing into things
and my hearts too big for my hands
but it's only because I believe life is a bomb
and we'll all just waiting to explode.
Maybe I'm too emotional
I'm too honest
and I say things at the wrong time
but it's only because I'm afraid of missing the chances
I have to speak.
However long,
whatever went wrong
I didn't mean it,
it was just a little mistake
and I mean
I know I'm not perfect
I like fixing people up
and my judgment is probably a little skewed
but it's only because I believe in finding little beauties
in the oddest of things.
Maybe I like you too much
I'm trying too hard
and I should have just let it go
but I only held on because I know
whatever went wrong
with you is where I belong.

Someone sane.
Who doesn't care too much
Or not enough.
And who is just insane enough
To still be interesting.
But will stay
And won't project
Or invert.
Someone sane
Who isn't depressed
Or anxious
All the time
And who doesn't mind
When I'm depressed
Or anxious
Sometimes.
Someone sane
Who doesn't hate their father
And won't pass undue judgement
On mine.
Someone sane
Who will be honest when I ask
But will have the sense
To share
With sensitivity.
Someone sane
Who can make me laugh
And whom I can make laugh
Someone sane
Who knows the difference
Between treating someone
Like they're important
And reducing them
To a monolith
They feel they cannot climb.
Someone sane
Who trusts and can be trusted.
Someone sane
Someone sane.

Sitting outside there
In your shirt sleeves
With your coffee and your cigarette
Wearing those black Ray Bans
That I'd've hated on just about anybody else
You looked just like Jack Keroac.

I couldn't see your eyes
But I liked to think
That you were thinking
Thoughts and things that I couldn't even imagine.
That to you
The world was like one big tangled ball
Of Christmas lights
To sort through
And fix up a little.

When I turned
You were already gone
Your broad hand
Grasping that cigarette.

He mentioned his mother was getting a hysterectomy
With all of the awkwardness and antsiness I would've expected
And understood absolutely completely
Because I've never had a childhood home
I've never even had a home
At least not in a place but in people I have
But if home is where you come from
Then you're forever homeless
From houses that can be sold
To organs that can be removed
None of us come from anywhere
And everything is subject to change
And terms and conditions
And where I live
The sky is too big.

My mind is no home because I can lose it
My body is no home because it can rot
And people can laugh and question God all they want
But the notion of home is the real ****** of the masses
And where I live
The sky is too big.