i am sincerely ******, in the least literal sense of the word.
standing here, dancing here, steering clear
of your eyes,
catching one at a time.
sharing a feeling, a glance,
a momentous instant that lasts longer than it takes to occur.
realizing, oh this night is like a match,
it's been struck and it's bright,
and one day it will be wet, rained upon in the middle of a city street,
where we will once again meet.


But, until then, we have tonight, and the anticipation of knowing one another.

"we are all you need" he said,
as i joined them in bed.

The most i've seen of you recently, in the past century, was me hanging on the outside of your car.
Five minutes of nothingness, a volleying of words.

If anyone walked past, they would not only think "they are speaking a language unknown to me" but each a language unknown to the other.

I envy some birds, only the ones that can soar.

They have time.
To see, to be. They are the wind.

I envy the wind, silent, overwhelming, in control with no words.
Everyone goes with the wind, they have no choice. No voice no box, no voicebox, no locks.

i wish i were clementine,
so i would no longer know you, of you.
but like her, i'm sure we'd meet again.

eruptive laugher,
hidden by the trees of yesterday,
past the place that's lost it's bridge.
ultimate chuckling,
i think i see smoke.

bananas.
long readings for long classes.
people who sneer.
that scary story i heard when i was little about the man under the bed licking the girl's hand, all the while she thinks it's her pup.
the fact that i cannot draw.
that i ever stopped playing the fiddle.
seeing the **** silhouette of  some unidentifiable female's back and knowing if she was not there, i'd be able to see your face, your nose, your eyes.
that it doesn't rain every day.
flossing.
that i sometimes feel incapable of utilizing my vocal cords.
that i don't sing as loud as i'd like to.
realizing after i've finished my cigarette that i was sitting next to a pregnant friend.
the fact that  i have pregnant friends.
that i tend to feel stuck everywhere i go after just a few short months.
that someone tried convincing me i was missing out because i do not own heels.
that people are mean to each other.
that i want so badly to make something tangible out of my thoughts, my words, but feel comfortable with no one to collaborate.
i can't play the guitar anymore.
that "anymore" was in that statement.
that i feel it is detrimental to my existence to be around certain people that i rarely see and when i do they make me so sad, but i still want them there more than most others.