The inevitable will wait
I will remain whole as I greet,
as I recount my days away,
as the road to home shortens,
as I sit through dinner.
It wont hit me until I'm alone.
My teeth brushed,
good nights are said,
and covers pulled.
That's when it will strike.
When I realize just how large my bed has grown,
or perhaps I've gotten smaller?
Did I drink a rabbit's potion unknowingly?
Maybe I left a limb with you,
and these phantom pains settle in late.
On the verge of sleep
when we are too tired to fight of the gravity of reality.
An ache resides somewhere in me;
     my arms to hold you
     my legs to tangle in yours
     my lips to kiss you
     my heart I've gifted to you.
My blood lacks its motivation in my veins
and therefore, so do I.
Cocooned in my comforter
but to no avail.
These pillows do not hold the warmth of skin
and do not have arms to hug back.
I have grown used to your lullaby,
heart beats sang me to perfect sleep.
Now only stillness and the sound of a busy world
ignoring this pain that I silently bear.

Don't let me sleep, my state is critical.
Keep talking, make me think of better days.
If I stop concentrating, it will take hold.
This gnawing at my brain,
I have a corrupted core.
My defenses cannot maintain stability,
I am sure to shatter by morning.
There is no cure,
because it came from within.
There is no market for this,
no dealers or middle men.
It does not come in powder or pills,
nor can it be injected or smoked.
No, this kind of drug is one of the utmost danger.
Doubt and worry are its street names.
Tailored to each person, it plays on fears.
Weaknesses are its ladder rungs,
climbing ever higher in your conscious.

My dearest love,
I was taken too young, separated from you by some sadistic hand. I wish I could write to tell you that I am in peace, that I am happily floating above you. I cannot. I was admitted into these ethereal gates, but no fruit of this hand nor any amount of time can calm me down. I reside in a luxury spa of torture.
We may have anything our souls desire, but mine is contradictory and rips the fabric of reason.
You see, I only wish for you. I will never ask to end you life, but I cannot live without you. Although, when you think about it, I'm not living in the first place, not anymore.  Live is not the correct word. Survive. Thrive. Grow. The English language has failed me for this synonym.
I wish for you to live forever. To enjoy the sweet earth and to gain all that is offered to you.
I will wait in agony for you, for that is all I can do. I would rather this feeling than be with you in guilt.
Sincerely, Truly, Deeply,
Your tragic love.

My heart is a veritable time bomb
its counter set months in advance.
Now its deadline draws near:
     The weeks,
     The days,
     The hours,
     The minutes.
Ever closer it comes
Now I've entered the same country
                                The same state
                                The same county
                                The same town
                                The same building
and finally,
the same room.
With seconds to spare
you cut the right wire
and your embrace has never felt so comforting
nor your kiss so desired as this moment
I am disabled,
we are finally reunited.

pop pop pop
as my breath reaches the surface
my hair swirls around me
free from the constraints of gravity
my hands too
and feet included
there is no force to hold me down
the world in which I inhabit can float away
like on the tide
but I cannot breath here
my lungs fill with carbon dioxide
soon I must return to the shore

It claws at my mind
scraping at my sanity
clawing at my weary neurons
plucking them like over tightened strings.
the anxiety of my newest situation
and soon it wakes
my grotesque demons
       the blind paranoia
who darts around the room for fear of the shadows' conspiracies
       the nit-picky self-loathing
with its millions of fingers to point at all of my the faults
       the gangly self-doubt
who can't help but look at everything in a depressive, helpless way
       and the wreched memory
which can recall every criticism ever received at the drop of a pin
and many pins drop in this world.

The motion of the speakers in my ears
pulsing with the song.
Tsunami waves flow through my body,
everything is slowed.
Time has lost its meaning.
I cannot concentrate,
first its an itch
next its a sound
following, a couch creak.
This is unreal,
I am raw.
Skinned of any defenses.
If you touch me, you will touch my soul.
you may think it innocent,
but at this moment
I am pealed.
This is my truest form.

We live our darkest moments in the medial state
Between rest and motion our inertia kicks in
Our brightest seconds are shared with others
But our demons wait to catch our ankles alone
So we may trip into their clutches for an evening

The horn
of the train
echoed your inevitable.
In a few short hours,
a similar steel beast
will carry you away.
The thought haunts me.
but for now,
I hold you closer,
tighter.
My face pressed to your chest.
You heard the sound,
you respond in kind.
For now we are together,
for now we can hug,
for now we can touch,
and we can only hope
that the memory of touch
lingers as long as possible,
That they days
that separate us will pass
like sparrows on the wind,
fast and fleeting.

There it is again
the intrusive horn.
Soon to call you away,
soon to leave me alone

Years in fact.
I used to know you well
you were the common thoughts
of my childish mind
I was never perfect with you
but I learned your ways.
With your prose
I found a voice.

Regrettably, we separated
I blame the cruelty of reality,
the brash public eye.
That may just be a cop out
I wasn't strong enough to ignore
any harsh words

What once was my joy
became my shame
I hid you away.
Eventually in your dark corner
you retreated to die
and I only noticed
after the dust had settled in your place.

Now you reawaken,
whether by luck
or by circumstance
How do you know I wouldn't cast you off again,
or rather, reject that part of myself?
Have I finally found a home
where I listen to my own voice again
and not the whispers of others?

I write for you, not for them
I write to feel again
for the fleeting chance
you will return the joy I once attained.
I write out of happiness

What if we are just children playing an adult game?
Our tea sets are cracked, my dear,
and our home is contained within figments of walls

We may have been drunk
we may have been lonely
but as the others took their leave
you remained
I don't know it was exactly when we realized
we stayed for each other
but the mutual decision has brightened my days since

They said we would regret
they said to be careful
our hearts are young
especially mine
it has no cracks to its metaphorical existence
they said that months ago
and I hope we prove them wrong for many months to come

Higher, higher, to the clouds I say!
Dreams of little children's hearts;
so simple,
so pure.
Higher, higher!
Touch the branches,
to the sky with the birds!
We can fly with their freedom
and taste the sweet wind.
No one can catch us
so go higher, higher!

It makes your feet freeze and your fingers tingle.
It makes your chest tight and your mind slow.
When your head just longs to be wrapped up
and your breath speaks in clouds.
In this dead of winter state
we can only hope for the death of the wind.
Its razor sharp bite that slashes to the marrow.
When you can't feel your legs as you walk
and you regret ever leaving the warmth of a bed.
This is when we appreciate every fiber that protects us,
every friend we can embrace,
and every ounce of fat we have built on our bones.
When we have the need of our worldly possessions
is when we understand their true value.