striped sky
floating breeze
March winds
play with Spring again
Comes ravishing,
leaves her spent
An on-off relationship.

A crazy thought
that we need one hundred years
in order to feel as if we’ve fulfilled some prophecy
or a purpose for our once lived lives.
I probably haven’t seen enough under the sun,
Yet
Maybe I have,
Maybe I’ve been to the zoo just enough times.
I’ve seen a zebra once or twice.
I’ve watched the ducks waddle
crossing parks with their posse of friends
The sun;
I’ve seen it rise,
I’ve seen it set
Just enough times for my 17 years of life and light.
How many times have I fallen off of my bed?
Is it good enough
that it wasn’t that often?
I’ve thought about this.
How many times have I done an action?
How many days have I spent alive?
6,250.
How many Saturdays?
I don’t know.
I do know that I don’t really care
and that there are way too many complicated calculations that would have to go into these completely non fascinating and unimportant questions
Maybe if I stay, I’ll grow old, and in a place where the sun doesn’t reach, or shine through.  
I’ll walk
Float,
like a pale ghost. If the sun doesn’t hit me can I turn into a ghost?
or are ghosts only reserved for the dead?
I’d like to be a ghost
But not just like any ghost
The kind of ghost that you’d see in cartoons.
the white sheeted ones with spooky midnight eyes.
and I wouldn’t be noticeable.
but oh so full of madness and trickery.
It seems so fairly Intriguing
And life feels like the punching of numbers into a calculator

Starlight is just a crack in the night sky.
The night is just a cape for the daylight,
a shadow spanning the earth's blue surface.
The earth is just a blue marble spinning  
around the sun, catching a flash of light.
The sun is just a yellow bonfire
roaring in a space without sound or air,
like in your head when you read these lines.
This is just a poem trying to describe
the magic to be glimpsed in the night sky.

You’re not the type
To tap along to the drumbeat I’ve started to embed on your bedroom wall in response to the melody that infuriates the inside of my head
Or the type to laugh at a reenactment I’ve foolishly performed from some commercial that was on the tv last week while we were out at the diner
You put more sugar in your coffee than I do; my coffee looks darker, but the cups themselves, identical

Our eyes both equidistantly tiresome
But thoughts; wandrous
Always on different wavelengths, different pages, different channels
Our thoughts veer off and I am curious to know what you think about
Because sometimes your eyes dig graves
Keeping low to the ground
The mutuality in eye contact faints and gets buried
Tucked under somewhere far,
but always seeking adventure, they meet up again

I don’t mind that you never go under both sheets
even though sometimes it creates space between us two
It doesn’t bother me that you didn’t acknowledge the dream I told you I had last night
Because I understand your eyes still feel like they hadn’t woken up
But I was barely awake too

I tried to get you to wake up
You love the taste of coffee,
But not my coffee.
You like the taste of sugar
Was I not sweet enough to create a sparkle in your eyes?

The day holds on his own
and you hold your own ground as well
You can say everything you want about him
but he will never comeback, and you would yell
"Why?!", "I don't have time!", "I have never had it!"
Yes you did
You just never stood up for it so it could make you imagine!

what is this
the sound of a voice
a faint crackle
over the line
burning icicle dipped
into ink of my dark
zipped in a fracture
           through space
woven in time
the sound of it
           penetrates
a heated
         arctic zing
of light
into the soul
and your words
caress places that
would not be reached
in life's daily hold

I would look into your eyes
my blues to yours
two vast oceans
never ending
This might express
the divinity
of the word "love"
This might express
a fraction of the feeling
                and this alone
could be all consuming
but the real expression
would be my mouth
devouring yours
      my tongue
exploring your lips
and all that's inside
my starlight
infusing your being
as we press into
the silken matter
as the levity of skin
that brushes like silk
as your actual saliva
and ***
are my nourishment,
like heaven's milk
and our cells
ignite in slow movement
as we gasp and sigh
the air around us
invisible velvet
I want beyond
internet
I want beyond
a small, mirrored screen
I need to drink your luster
as we inhale the soft, molten folds
as we break open
and drink deep
inner liquids
as we crack
and the flow of the
      electric river
slides
    through
and within,
intermingling
auras tingling

Just take me,
      already
let me feel the imprint
of your fingers
upon my wrists
let your kisses mark
my secret spaces
Rush into me
as a river
before we
  simultaneously
         combust
for if I have to hear your
vocal chords
one more time
I will
    explode
into
     fragments
of
     crystallized
                  dust

Trust is like a flower;
Every time you break it
You rip off a petal and stamp it into the concrete

Trust is like a butterfly;
Every time you betray it
You break a wing and render it flightless

Trust is like a brick wall;
Every time you crush it
You chip away at the cement
You knock out the cornerstone

I still have petals
I still have wings
I still have mortar
I still have bricks
And here I stand
Albeit unsteady
But I am ready
Yes, I am ready.

we thought that we were juggernauts
astronauts
thoughts we all believed in

when we believed the head of the pin was the ballroom
there was no room for manoeuvre
and then they blew you
away.

Black specs or black ops
madmen or the cops
one and the same.

we thought we were the biz
the wiz'
we were not even the ***.

any one anyway
this wasn't blue ray
just
pay per view
cheap enough for me
and cheap for you too.

and we thought we
were
juggernauts.